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SELECTIONS   AND    DOCUMENTS 
IN    ECONOMICS 


EDITED    BY 

WILLIAM   Z.   RIPLEY,   PH.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  ECONOMICS,  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 


SELECTIONS  AND  DOCUMENTS 
IN  ECONOMICS 

TRUSTS,  POOLS  AND  CORPORATIONS 
By  William  Z.  Ripley,   Ph.D.,   Professor  of 
Economics,  Harvard  University 

TRADE   UNIONISM  AND  LABOR 
PROBLEMS 

By  John  R.  Commons,  Professor  of  Political 
Economy,  University  of  Wisconsin 

SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

By  Thomas  N.  Carver,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of 
Economics,  Harvard  University 

SELECTED  READINGS  IN  PUBLIC 
FINANCE 

By  Charles  J.  Bullock,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  Economics,  Harvard  University 

RAILWAY  PROBLEMS 

By  William   Z.  Ripley,  Ph.D.,   Professor  of 
Economics,  Harvard  University 

SELECTED  READINGS  IN  ECONOMICS 
By  Charles  J.  Bullock,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor of  Economics,  Harvard  University 

ECONOMIC  HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED 
STATES. 

By  Guy  Stevens  Callender,  Professor  of  Political 
Economy,  Yale  University 


SOCIOLOGY  AND   SOCIAL 
PROGRESS 


A  HANDBOOK  FOR  STUDENTS  OF 
SOCIOLOGY 


COMPILED    BY 


THOMAS    NIXON    CARVER,   PH.D.,  LL.D. 

DAVID  A.  WELLS    PROFESSOR  OF  POLITICAL  ECONOMY 
IN  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 


GINN  &  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •   NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY 
THOMAS  NIXON  CARVER 


ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED 
614.11 


Cbt   gtben«nm 

GINN   &   COMPANY  •  PRO. 
PRIETORS  •  BOSTON  •  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

The  problem  of  human  welfare,  before  which  all  others  seem 
trivial  in  comparison,  is  not  to  be  understood  without  the  widest 
attainable  knowledge  of  things  pertaining  to  man.  Up  to  the 
present  time  the  economist  is  undoubtedly  the  one  who  has  made 
the  most  searching  and  the  most  effective  study  of  this  problem. 
But  other  light  is  needed  and  a  wider  view  is  necessary  than  the 
economist  is  in  the  habit  of  taking.  The  present  volume  is  com- 
piled for  the  purpose  of  presenting  to  the  student,  in  convenient 
form,  material  for  this  wider  view.  It  is  based  upon  twelve  years 
of  college  and  university  teaching.  The  selections  presented  are 
those  which  the  compiler  has  found  by  experience  to  be  the  most 
instructive,  the  most  stimulating,  and  the  most  thought-provok- 
ing. No  attempt  has  been  made  to  select  only  such  passages  as 
embody  the  compiler's  views,  or  even  to  select  such  as  are  inva- 
riably sound  and  accurate.  The  fact  that  a  passage  has  proved 
brilliantly  suggestive  and  provocative  of  serious  inquiry  has,  in 
several  cases,  been  the  chief  reason  for  including  it. 

It  is  the  hope  of  the  compiler  that  this  volume  may  prove  use- 
ful both  to  the  college  student  and  to  the  general  reader.  In 
college  classes  it  is  designed  to  be  used  as  supplementary  to  an 
elementary  text-book,  as  collateral  reading  to  a  course  of  lectures, 
or  as  a  basis  for  class-room  discussions.  The  latter  is  by  far  the 
most  effective  method  yet  devised  for  the  teaching  of  the  social 
sciences,  and  in  connection  with  this  method  the  compiler  ven- 
tures to  hope  that  this  volume  may  prove  especially  useful. 

The  compiler  wishes  to  express  here  his  gratitude  for  the  many 
courtesies  which  he  has  received  from  authors  and  publishers. 
He  is  under  especial  obligation  to  Messrs.  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 


iv  PREFACE 

A.  C.  Armstrong  &  Co.,  Adam  and  Charles  Black,  Albert  Fonte- 
moing,  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  the  Mac- 
millan  Company,  James  Pott  &  Co.,  and  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons ;  also  to  the  editors  of  the  Political  Science  Quarterly,  and 
of  The  Annals  of  the  American  Academy  of  Political  and  Social 
Science,  and  to  the  following  gentlemen  :  Professors  Simon  N. 
Patten,  Lester  F.  Ward,  Edward  Van  Dyke  Robinson,  and  Wil- 
liam Z.  Ripley,  and  Messrs.  A.  Cleveland  Hall  and  D.  MacGregor 
Means. 

He  wishes  also  to  acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  many  of 
his  former  students,  whose  interest  and  enthusiasm,  whose  criti- 
cisms and  suggestions  in  the  regular  class-room  discussions,  and 
whose  stimulating  —  often  puzzling  —  questions,  both  within  and 
without  the  class  room,  have  been  a  guide  in  the  selection  of  the 
material  for  this  book. 

T.  N.  CARVER 
HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 
January,  1906 


CONTENTS 

PAGES 

I.   INTRODUCTION 1-14 

PART  I.   THE   NATURE,   SCOPE,  AND   METHOD 
OF   SOCIOLOGY 

II.   Characteristics  of  the  Positive  Method  in  its  Application  to 

Social  Phenomena,  by  Auguste  Comte 15-64 

III.  Relation  of  Sociology  to  the  Other  Departments  of  Positive 

Philosophy,  by  Auguste  Comte 65-70 

IV.  The  General  Distinction  between  Sociology  and  the  Specific 

Social  Sciences,  by  J.  H.  W.  Stuckenberg 71-87 

PART  II.    SOCIOLOGY  AS   A   STUDY   OF    SOCIAL 

PROGRESS  — THE    DIRECTION   OF 

SOCIAL   PROGRESS 

V.    Social  Dynamics ;  or  Theory  of  the  Natural  Progress  of 

Human  Society,  by  Auguste  Comte 88-115 

VI.   A  Definition  of  Progress,  by  Lester  F.  Ward 116-120 

VII.    The  Evolution  of  Society,  by  John  Fiske 121-126 

VIII.    The  Transition  from  a  Pain  Economy  to  a  Pleasure  Econ- 
omy, by  Simon  N.  Patten 127-132 

IX.   War  and  Economics  in  History  and  in  Theory,  by  Edward 

Van  Dyke  Robinson 1 33-173 

PART  III.    THE   FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 
A.   THE  PHYSICAL  AND  BIOLOGICAL  FACTORS 

X.    Influence  exercised  by  Physical  Laws  over  the  Organiza- 
tion of  Society  and  the   Character  of  Individuals,  by 

Henry  Thomas  Buckle I74_27o 

XI.   The  Zone  of  the  Founders  of  Religion,  by  Oscar  Peschel   •  VI_27c 
XII.    Sexual  Selection  in  Relation  to  Man,  by  Charles  Darwin     276-301 

XIII.  National   Life  from  the  Standpoint  of  Science,  by^ari 

Pearson  •  ...._.  .--r:  .  .  392-409 

XIV.  The  Prolongation  of  Infancy,  by  Joh^jskg  410-4.18 

v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


^XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 


B.  THE  PSYCHICAL  FACTORS 

XV.  Comparison  of  Moral  and  Intellectual  Laws  and  Inquiry 
as  to  the  Influence  of  Each  on  the  Progress  of  Society, 
by  Henry  Thomas  Buckle 

Sympathy,  by  Adam  Smith 

Foresight,  by  John  Fiske 

The  Function  of  Religious  Beliefs  in  the  Evolution  of 
Society,  by  Benjamin  Kidd 

The  Relativity  of  Genius,  by  Thomas  Babington 
Macaulay 

The  Virtues  of  Stupidity,  by  Walter  Bagehot  .... 

Imitation,  by  Gabriel  Tarde 


XX. 

)Cxxi. 


419-471 
472-477 

478-480 
481-497 

498-500 
501-502 

503-52 I 


C.   THE  SOCIAL  AND  ECONOMIC  FACTORS 


XXII.    Inquiry  into  the  Influence  exercised  by  Religion,  Liter- 
ature, and  Government,  by  Henry  Thomas  Buckle     .  522-576 

XXIII.  The  Sociological  View  of  Morals,  by  Herbert  Spencer  577-592 

XXIV.  The  Struggle  for  the  Life  of  Others,  by  Henry  Drum- 

mond 593-630 

XXV.    Influences  that  affect  the  Natural  Ability  of  Nations,  by 

1-rancis  Gallon 631-646 

XXVI.    Natural  Selection  and  Social  Selection,  by  G.  Vacher 

de  Lapouge     647-653 

XXVII.    The  Evolutionary  Function  and  Usefulness  of  Crime 

and  Punishment,  by  A.  Cleveland  Hall 654-673 

XXVIII.    Male  Sexual  Selection,  by  Lester  F.  Ward       .     .     .     .674-675 
XXIX.    Ethnic  Stratification  and  Urban  Selection,  by  William 

Z.  Ripley 676-696 

XXX.    Degeneration,  by  Max  Nordau 697-7 1 5 

D.  THE  POLITICAL  AND  LEGAL  FACTORS 

XXXI.  Talk,  by  Edward  Lawrence  Godkin 716-717 

XXXII.  The  Age  of  Discussion,  by  Walter  Bagehot     ....  718-749 

XXXIII.  The  Forms  of  Government,  by  Aristotle 750-763 

XXXIV.  The  Prince,  by  Nicholas  Machiavelli 764-781 

XXXV.  The  Boss,  by  "  Henry  Champernowne  " 782-787 

XXXVI.    Of  the  Limits  to  the  Authority  of   Society  over  the 

Ind'viH'.a^  by  John  Stuart  Mill 788-808 

INDEX ^  ^~< 809-810 


SOCIOLOGY  AND    SOCIAL 
PROGRESS 


i 

INTRODUCTION 

It  is  only  partially  true  that  sociology  is  a  new  science.  It  is 
true  that  the  name  has  only  recently  been  applied  to  a  definite 
body  of  knowledge,  and  it  is  still  more  recently  that  there  has 
been  a  group  of  scholars  devoting  themselves  exclusively  to  this 
subject  and  going  by  the  name  of  sociologists.  But  it  is  not  true 
that  human  society,  the  subject  of  sociological  study,  has  only 
recently  attracted  the  attention  of  students.  On  the  contrary, 
it  is  one  of  the  oldest  subjects  of  inquiry  and  speculation.  The 
philosopher,  the  theologian,  the  moralist,  the  man  of  science,  and 
the  economist  have  all  devoted  time  to  this  subject,  and  each 
has  made  his  contribution  to  it.  Indeed,  it  is  the  opinion  of  many 
students  in  this  field  that  some  of  the  most  significant  contribu- 
tions to  our  knowledge  of  society  have  been  made  not  by  writers 
who  profess  to  be  sociologists  but  by  men  who  have  turned 
their  attention  to  those  phases  of  social  life  which  lie  nearest 
their  special  fields  of  inquiry.  Such  writers  have  not  occupied 
themselves  with  problems  of  nomenclature  and  classification,  but 
have  saved  their  energies  for  matters  of  more  vital  concern, 
whereas  many  of  our  formal  treatises  on  sociology  have  been 
largely  concerned  with  matters  more  formal  than  vital. 

This  is  not  to  belittle  the  importance  of  the  formalities  of 
science.  Classification,  nomenclature,  and  description  have  their 
value ;  nevertheless,  the  student  of  society  is  only  incidentally 
interested  in  such  matters.  His  knowledge  is  not  materially 


2  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

increased  by  attempts  to  explain  what  society  is  like.  He  has  a 
fairly  definite  idea  already,  though  he  may  not  be  able  to  state 
his  idea  in  specific  terms.  But,  as  Professor  Marshall  reminds  us, 
our  most  familiar  concepts  are  frequently  the  most  difficult  to 
define.  It  is  very  difficult  to  define  a  house,  yet  most  of  us  have 
a  fairly  clear  idea  as  to  what  a  house  is.  One  might  add  that, 
even  if  a  house  could  be  defined,  the  definition  would  add  little 
or  nothing  to  our  knowledge.  The  same  may  be  said  of  a  defini- 
tion of  society.  Since  our  science  deals  with  a  subject  which  is 
so  familiar,  at  least  in  its  superficial  aspects,  to  every  student  of 
mature  mind,  its  formalities  are  rather  less  important  than  those 
of  some  of  the  other  sciences  where  the  subject-matter  lies  out- 
side the  experience  and  observation  of  everyday  life. 

After  all,  the  student  of  sociology  is  most  vitally  interested  in 
gaining  a  knowledge  of  the  social  processes  and  the  relations  of 
cause  and  effect  among  social  phenomena.  This  knowledge  is 
absolutely  essential  to  any  intelligent  effort  at  social  improve- 
ment, and  social  improvement  is  the  only  worthy  aim  of  the 
student:  Even  the  early  history  of  society  and  the  origin  oi 
social  institutions,  interesting  as  these  subjects  are  to  the  scien- 
tifically curious,  derive  their  chief  value  from  the  light  which 
they  may  throw  on  the  problem  of  social  improvement.  But 
more  valuable  even  than  historical  study  is  the  analytical  study 
of  the  social  processes  and  the  social  forces  which  are  at  work  in 
the  society  of  the  present,  and  which  may  be  assumed  to  be 
shaping  the  society  of  the  future.  Any  attempt  to  improve  the 
society  of  the  future  must  manifestly  work  in  harmony  with 
these  forces. 

It  is  probably  safe  to  say  that  the  economist  is  the  only  one 
of  the  various  students  of  society  who  has  accomplished  much  in 
the  way  of  perfecting  this  analysis.  On  the  purely  economic 
side  of  social  life  considerable  progress  has  been  made  in  this 
direction,  and  it  therefore  seems  probable  that  the  method  of 
sociology  will  be  an  expansion  of  the  method  of  economics.  The 
success  with  which  the  science  of  economics  has  been  developed 
has  been  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  economists  have  strictly 
limited  the  scope  of  their  inquiry.  This  was  a  necessary  feature 


INTRODUCTION  3 

of  their  method,  at  least  in  the  early  stages  of  the  science  ;  but 
the  interest  of  the  public  in  some  of  the  broader  aspects  of  social 
science  is  increasing  day  by  day,  and  it  is  proper  therefore  to 
raise  the  question  whether  the  time  is  not  ripe  for  an  expan- 
sion of  the  method  of  economics  into  the  general  field  of  social 
science. 

It  is  a  favorable  sign  that  economists  are  already  showing  a 
tendency  to  take  the  broad  view,  or  to  consider  the  bearings  of 
economic  facts  and  principles  upon  the  broader  questions  of 
human  progress  and  social  development.  In  so  far  as  sociology 
has  as  yet  justified  "its  existence,  it  is  because  sociologists  have 
emphasized  these  broader  questions  more  than  economists  have 
seen  fit  to  do.  However,  the  chief  danger  is  that  if  sociology  is 
to  be  developed  from  the  economic  standpoint,  and  by  an  expan- 
sion of  the  method  of  economics,  the  purely  economic  factors 
will  be  overemphasized.  This  seems  to  have  been  the  result  of 
most  attempts  at  what  is  called  the  "economic  interpretation 
of  history." 

One  who  is  acquainted  with  the  ordinary  meaning  of  words, 
but  unacquainted  with  the  way  this  particular  expression  has 
actually  been  used,  would  probably  infer  that  the  "  economic 
interpretation  of  history  "  meant  the  interpretation  of  historical 
development  in  the  light  of  economic  knowledge,  just  as  the  his- 
torical interpretation  of  economics  means  the  interpretation  of 
economic  conditions  in  the  light  of  historical  knowledge.  But  a 
brief  examination  of  those  works  which  have  attempted  the  eco- 
nomic interpretation  of  history  reveals  the  fact  that  this  expression 
means  that  economic  factors  have  largely  determined  the  course 
of  history.  This  is  the  dogma,  for  example,  to  which  Professor 
Seligman J  applies  the  following  thesis. 

The  existence  of  man  depends  upon  his  ability  to  sustain  himself; 
the  economic  life  is  therefore  the  fundamental  condition  of  all  life. 
Since  human  life,  however,  is  the  life  of  man  in  society,  individual  exist- 
ence moves  within  the  framework  of  the  social  structure  and  is  modified 

1  Edwin  R.  A.  Seligman,  The  Economic  Interpretation  of  History,  New  York, 
Columbia  University  Press,  1902. 


4  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

by  it.  What  the  conditions  are  to  the  individual,  the  similar  relations 
of  production  and  consumption  are  to  the  community.  To  economic 
causes,  therefore,  must  be  traced,  in  the  last  instance,  those  transforma- 
tions in  Ihe  structure  of  society  which  themselves  condition  the  rela- 
tions of  social  classes  and  the  various  manifestations  of  social  life. 

In  so  far  as  this  statement  of  the  thesis  foreshadows  the  sub- 
sequent argument  it  occurs  to  one  as  being  singularly  incon- 
clusive. One  might  as  well  say  the  existence  of  man  depends 
upon  his  ability  to  reproduce  himself,  and  family  life  is  therefore, 
etc.;  or  the  existence  of  man  depends  upon  his  ability  to  defend 
himself,  and  military  life  is  therefore,  etc.  Thus  one  might  go 
on  indefinitely  adding  to  the  number  of  causes  which  "in  the 
last  instance  "  determine  the  forms  of  social  development.  If  it 
be  retorted  that  the  methods  of  gaining  subsistence  largely  de- 
termine the  forms  of  family  and  military  life,  the  reply  is  that 
the  forms  of  military  and  family  life  and  the  necessities  of  mili- 
tary defense  also  largely  determine  the  forms  of  industry.  The 
sexual  impulse  is  quite  as  elementary  as  the  desire  for  food,  and 
it  is  to  this  elementary  impulse  that  we  owe  the  existence  of  the 
family,  though  its  form  is  more  or  less  modified  by  the  conditions 
of  subsistence,  as  well  as  by  the  spiritual,  the  moral,  and  the 
military  conditions  of  the  community.  As  to  which  precedes  in 
point  of  time,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  and  the  answer  would 
be  of  no  value  even  if  it  could  be  found  out.  The  necessities  of 
military  defense,  as  Spencer  has  well  brought  out  in  his  antith- 
esis between  the  industrial  and  the  militant  types  of  society,  are 
quite  as  potent  in  the  determination  of  social  forms  and  usages, 
and  religious  and  moral  ideas  and  conceptions,  as  the  necessities 
of  subsistence  can  possibly  be.  Here  again  the  question  as  to 
which  precedes  in  point  of  time  —  the  necessity  for  subsistence 
or  the  necessity  for  defense  —  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence. 

Whatever  merit  there  may  be  in  the  dogma  that  the  economic 
factors  have  the  leading  part  in  shaping  social  development  and 
in  determining  the  course  of  history,  and  whatever  the  emphasis 
that  may  properly  be  laid  upon  this  dogma,  there  is  another 
aspect  of  the  "  economic  interpretation  of  history  "  which  deserves 
especial  consideration,  and  which  has  been  largely  neglected  in 


INTRODUCTION  5 

discussions  of  this  topic.  As  has  already  been  suggested,  the 
"economic  interpretation  of  history"  would  seem,  at  first  sight, 
to  mean  the  interpretation  of  historical  facts  in  the  light  of  one's 
economic  knowledge.  If  for  the  term  "economic  knowledge " 
could  be  substituted  "knowledge  of  human  society, "this  statement 
of  the  doctrine  would  clear  up  much  of  the  obscurity  which  exists 
regarding  the  relation  of  the  study  of  economic  and  social  condi- 
tions to  the  study  of  history.  Hitherto  the  field  has  been  left 
practically  in  the  hands  of  the  historian  or  the  historical  econo- 
mist, who  has  claimed  that  a  knowledge  of  history  was  essential 
to  the  understanding  of  the  present  economic  conditions.  It  is 
true  in  a  much  stricter  sense  that  a  knowledge  of  the  present 
economic  and  social  conditions  is  essential  to  even  the  most 
elementary  knowledge  of  history.  What  has  been  overlooked  in 
the  modern  evolutionary  theory  of  history  is  the  fundamental 
principle  which  formed  the  basis  of  the  whole  evolutionary  theory 
of  modern  science,  namely,  the  principle  that  all  past  develop- 
ment, whether  in  the  field  of  geology  or  biology,  must  be  accounted 
for  on  the  ground  of  forces  and  factors  now  at  work,  and  which 
can  be  observed  at  first  hand  by  the  student.  Thus  a  preliminary 
study  of  dynamical  geology,  since  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  must  precede 
any  attempt  at  tracing  geological  history.  If  we  accept  the  anti- 
cataclysmic  theory  of  history  as  the  basis  of  a  theory  of  histor- 
ical development,  we  must  likewise  conclude  that  a  study  of  the 
social  factors  and  forces  as  they  exist  in  the  world  about  us  must 
precede  any  attempt  at  the  explanation  of  historical  development. 
One  might  as  well  undertake  the  study  of  paleontology  without 
some  preliminary  knowledge  of  biology  as  to  undertake  the  study 
of  history  without  some  preliminary  knowledge  of  economics  or 
sociology.  It  is  in  this  study  of  first-hand  materials,  in  the  observa- 
tion of  social  activities  about  us,  that  we  must  get  our  clue  to  the 
relation  of  cause  and  effect  in  social  and  political  affairs  ;  and 
until  we  have  this  clue,  historical  facts  are  merely  so  many  isolated 
and  unconnected  events.  The  only  thing  that  has  saved  history 
in  the  past  from  being  a  mere  collection  of  accidental,  unrelated 
events  is  the  fact  that  historians,  even  without  special  training, 
have  had  some  ideas  regarding  causation  in  social  and  political 


6  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

affairs.  But  this  general  knowledge  which  we  call  common  sense, 
and  which  belongs  within  certain  limits  to  every  intelligent  person, 
cannot  take  the  place  of  trained  observation  and  scientific  meth- 
ods of  investigation.  A  student  of  paleontology  might,  from  the 
few  general  and  elementary  facts  which  he  had  gathered  by  un- 
scientific observation,  do  something  in  this  field,  but  he  could 
by  no  means  expect  to  compete  with  the  student  who  had  made 
a  study  of  biology  according  to  scientific  methods,  and  who  had 
some  training  in  scientific  observation  and  reasoning.  This  is 
the  theory  of  the  economic  or  social  interpretation  of  history  to 
which  we  must  finally  come  if  we  would  deserve  to  be  put  in  the 
same  class  with  scientists  working  in  other  fields.  The  study  of 
sociology  must  therefore  be  the  study  of  the  social  factors  and 
forces  as  they  are  found  in  the  world  about  us ;  and  this  study 
will  bear  the  same  relation  to  history  that  the  study  of  dynamical 
geology  bears  to  historical  geology,  or  as  the  study  of  biology 
bears  to  paleontology.  To  be  sure,  historical  geology  and  pale- 
ontology again  throw  new  light  upon  dynamical  geology  and  upon 
biology,  but  it  is  perfectly  clear  where  the  study  must  begin. 
The  same  principle  will  apply  to  sociology  and  history,  and  to 
theoretical  and  historical  economics. 

That  line  of  study  which  is  ordinarily  called  economic  theory 
differs  from  economic  history  not  in  the  methods  of  reasoning 
employed  but  in  the  source  of  information.  The  one  goes  directly 
to  the  facts  of  the  social  and  economic  life  of  the  surrounding 
world,  while  the  other  goes  to  historical  documents.  The  one 
observes  phenomena  at  first  hand,  the  other  through  the  media 
of  historical  records  of  all  kinds.  The  distinction  between  the 
theoretical  and  the  descriptive  economist  is  that  the  one  tries  to 
find  the  causal  connection  between  economic  facts  which  come 
under  his  observation,  while  the  other  merely  tries  to  describe 
them.  Until  one  has  some  elementary  notions  regarding  economic 
causation  he  is  not  in  a  position  even  to  begin  the  study  of  eco- 
nomic history.  He  would  see  no  more  connection  between  a  rise  of 
British  consols  and  Napolean's  defeat  at  Waterloo  than  he  would 
see  between  Napoleon's  defeat  and  an  eclipse  of  the  moon.  But 
an  opinion  regarding  economic  causation  is  an  economic  theory. 


INTRODUCTION  7 

What  economists  and  historians  need,  therefore,  is  not  an 
opinion  as  to  the  relative  importance  of  the  various  factors  which 
have  determined  the  course  of  history,  but  a  clear  perception  of 
the  importance  of  a  first-hand  study  of  the  factors  and  forces  in 
the  contemporary  social  world.  Following  the  suggestion  of  the 
anti-cataclysmic  theory  of  geological  and  biological  development, 
the  present  writer  would  like  to  lay  down  the  following  thesis  as 
a  challenge. 

Every  great  historical  epoch  and  every  variety  of  social  organi- 
zation must  be  explained  on  the  basis  of  factors  and  forces  now 
at  work,  and  which  ttie  student  may  study  at  first  hand.1 

Our  conclusion  as  to  the  relation  of  sociology  to  economics  is, 
therefore,  that  sociology  is  merely  an  expansion  of  the  method 
of  economics  to  include  a  study  of  many  factors  in  social  devel- 
opment which  are  not  ordinarily  considered  by  the  economist ; 
while  the  relation  of  sociology  to  history  is  the  same  as  that 
between  dynamical  geology  and  historical  geology,  or  between 
biology  and  paleontology.  Sociology  is  a  study  at  first  hand  of 
those  factors  and  forces  which  govern  social  phenomena  and  the 
relation  of  cause  and  effect  among  them,  whereas  history  is  an 
attempt  to  trace  the  actual  course  of  social  development  in  the 
past.  Though  the  study  of  history  is  highly  essential  to  a  thorough 
understanding  of  the  principles  of  sociology,  a  knowledge  of  the 
principles  of  sociology  is  vastly  more  essential  to  any  thorough 
understanding  of  history. 

It  is  the  opinion  of  the  present  writer  that  whatever  aid  the 
study  of  sociology  may  furnish  to  the  study  of  the  history  of  the 
past,  it  can  hardly  justify  its  existence  unless  it  furnishes  us  a 
theory  of  progress  which  will  enable  us  to  shape  the  policies 
of  society  with  a  view  to  future  improvement.  In  other  words, 
the  fundamental  task  of  the  sociologist  is  to  furnish  a  theory  of 
social  progress. 

The  first  difficulty  in  the  way  of  the  student  bent  upon 
the  performance  of  that  task  is  that  of  defining  progress  itself. 
Generally  speaking  the  idea  of  human  progress  carries  with  it 

1  Cf.  the  author's  article  on  the  "  Economic  Interpretation  of  History,"  Journal 
of  Political  Economy,  Vol.  II,  No.  I,  pp.  93-99. 


8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  idea  of  human  well-being.  Social  progress  and  social  ir 
provement,  from  the  standpoint  of  human  happiness,  are  ideas  so 
closely  connected  in  the  popular  mind  that  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  separate  them.  However,  the  late  Herbert  Spencer1  combats 
this  conception  as  being  shifting  and  indefinite,  and  denies  that 
the  improvement  in  the  well-being  of  the  people  is  necessarily 
a  mark  of  progress.  "  Sociaj  progress,"  says  he,  "  is  supposed  to 
consist  in  the  making  of  a  greater  quantity  and  variety  of  the 
articles  required  for  satisfying  men's  wants,  in  the  increasing 
security  of  person  and  property,  in  widening  freedom  and  action  ; 
whereas,  rightly  understood,  social  progress  consists  in  those 
changes  of  structure  in  the  social  organism  which  have  entailed 
these  consequences.  The  current  conception  is  a  teleological 
one.  But  rightly  to  understand  progress  we  must  understand 
the  nature  of  these  changes  considered  apart  from  our  interests ; 
cease,  for  example,  to  regard  the  geological  modifications  which 
take  place  in  the  earth  as  modifications  which  fit  it  for  the  habi- 
tation of  man,  and  as  therefore  constituting  geological  progress. 
We  must  ascertain  the  character  common  to  these  modifications, 
whether  in  the  physical,  the  biological,  or  the  social  world,  — 
the  law  to  which  they  all  conform."  His  idea  therefore  is  that 
there  must  be  one  universal  law  of  progress  which  dominates  the 
development  of  the  physical  universe  out  of  primeval  chaos,  the 
development  of  the  present  highly  diversified  forms  of  animal  and 
vegetable  life  out  of  the  primordial  cell  or  protoplasm,  and  the 
development  of  the  present  highly  organized  human  societies  out 
of  the  primitive  horde  of  human  beings.  This  universal  principle 
of  progress  is  simply  the  change  from  homogeneity  to  heteroge- 
neity. "  From  the  earliest  traceable  cosmical  changes  down  to 
the  latest  results  of  civilization  we  shall  find  that  the  transfor- 
mation of  the  homogeneous  into  the  heterogeneous  is  that  in 
which  progress  essentially  consists  "  (page  10,  op.  cit.). 

That  a  universal  principle  of  development  is  desirable,  in 
fact  essential,  as  a  basis  for  a  theory  of  social  progress  must 
be  admitted.  But  it  seems  that  such  a  principle  can  be  found 

1  Progress,  Its  Law  and  Cause,  Vol.  I,  "  Essays  Scientific,  Political,  and  Specu- 
lative," pp.  8-62. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

without  sacrificing  the  idea  of  well-being  as  a  mark  of  progress. 
Back  of  this  change  from  homogeneity  to  heterogeneity  lies  the 
principle  of  adaptation  so  familiar  to  all  students  of  evolution. 
Now  adaptation  in  human  society  is  necessarily  connected  with 
well-being.  A  society  which  has  undergone  such  modifications 
internally  and  externally  as  adapt  it  to  its  conditions  is  a  society 
which  enjoys  a  high  degree  of  well-being ;  and  the  society  which 
is  ill-adapted  to  its  conditions  is  a  society  which  does  not  enjoy 
a  high  degree  of  well-being.  While  the  term  "  well-being  "  can  be 
applied  only  within  the  field  of  sentient  life,  "  adaptation  "  is  a 
term  which  may  apply  to  all  existence,  sentient  or  nonsentient. 
But  within  the  sphere  of  sentient  existence  adaptation  and  well- 
being  are  so  inseparably  connected  that  they  may  almost  be  said 
to  mean  the  same  thing.  Therefore  it  is  assumed  in  this  work 
that  well-being  is  a  mark  of  progress,  though  progress  is  defined 
in  terms  of  adaptation. 

This  adaptation  which  takes  place  in  human  society  is  either 
passive  or  active.  By  passive  adaptation  is  meant  the  modifi- 
cation of  the  species  itself  to  suit  the  conditions  under  which  it 
lives  ;  and  by  active  adaptation  is  meant  the  modification  of  the 
conditions  to  suit  the  species.  Man  has  been  defined  as  a  being 
who  adapts  his  surroundings  to  himself,  whereas  other  animals 
are  adapted  to  their  surroundings.  If,  for  example,  the  climate 
is  cold,  other  animals  must  develop  fur,  or  blubber,  or  feathers, 
or  some  other  means  of  withstanding  cold  or  protecting  them- 
selves from  it ;  whereas  man  manufactures  clothing,  builds  a  fire, 
or  constructs  a  house.  If  food  is  to  be  obtained  from  the  sea, 
other  animals  must  develop  webfeet,  or  flippers,  or  some  other 
means  of  propelling  themselves  through  the  water  ;  whereas  man 
builds  a  boat  and  makes  fishing  tackle.  If  food  is  to  be  trans- 
ported long  distances,  other  animals  must,  like  the  pelican,  develop 
a  pouch,  or  like  the  camel,  develop  a  hump  .and  a  stomach  lined 
with  cisterns ;  whereas  man  learns  to  cure  his  food  and  to  build 
transportation  systems.  If  the  opposite  sex  is  to  be  won,  other 
animals  must  develop  brilliant  plumage,  or  antlers,  or  a  mane ; 
whereas  man  substitutes  the  barber's  and  the  haberdasher's  arts, 
clothes  himself  in  fine  raiment,  or  furnishes  economic  support. 


10  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

In  a  multitude  of  other  ways  man,  by  taking  thought,  —  by 
various  ingenious  devices,  —  avoids  the  necessity  of  being  him- 
self physiologically  modified  to  suit  his  conditions.  However, 
this  difference,  great  as  it  is,  is  a  difference  of  degree,  for  within 
narrow  limits  other  animals  also  modify  their  surroundings,  as 
when  birds  build  nests  or  beavers  construct  dams  or  mud  houses, 
and  even  where  certain  animals  dig  their  own  burrows  instead  of 
depending  upon  natural  caves.  But  the  efforts  which  the  most 
ingenious  and  intelligent  of  the  animals  make  in  this  direction 
are  unworthy  of  comparison  with  the  magnificent  results  of  the 
genius  of  civilized  man.  On  the  other  hand,  men  themselves 
have  to  undergo  certain  modifications.  Races  dwelling  in  high 
altitudes,  who  must  breathe  a  rarified  atmosphere,  develop  larger 
lung  capacity.  Those  dwelling  in  cold  climates  develop  better 
circulation  and  greater  power  of  withstanding  cold.  Similarly, 
inhabitants  of  malarial  regions  develop  a  kind  of  immunity  from 
malaria.  But  the  degree  of  modification  which  takes  place  in  the 
human  organism  is  vastly  reduced  by  man's  power  over  his  envi- 
ronment. If  he  were  unable  to  construct  shelters,  build  fires,  and 
manufacture  clothing,  he  would  have  to  undergo  vastly  greater 
modification  than  is  now  necessary  in  order  to  live  in  such  cold 
climates  as  are  actually  inhabited.  Again,  it  might  be  urged  with 
some  degree  of  fairness  that  it  is  due  to  a  kind  of  passive  adap- 
tation that  man  is  enabled  to  assume  the  active  role  ;  that  is,  it  is 
due  to  a  larger  brain  development,  and  therefore  he  is  passively 
modified  in  one  direction,  namely,  in  the  direction  of  larger  men- 
tality, in  order  to  avoid  passive  modification  in  other  directions. 
However,  the  meaning  of  the  term  "active  adaptation"  is  probably 
well  enough  understood  to  answer  the  purposes  of  this  discussion. 

In  the  analysis  of  the  factors  of  social  progress  it  seems  wise 
to  subdivide  the  work  on  the  basis  of  a  classification  of  those  fac- 
tors. We  shall  therefore  group  the  selections  included  in  this 
part  of  the  work  under  four  heads  :  ( i )  the  physical  and  biologi- 
cal factors;  (2)  the  psychic  factors  ;  (3)  the  social  and  economic 
factors;  (4)  the  political  and  legal  factors. 

Under  the  first  group  of  factors  we  are  able  to  supply  a  list  of 
selections  which  cover  the  ground  fairly  well.  Under  the  second 


INTRODUCTION  1 1 

group,  namely  the  psychic  factors,  the  material  is  fairly  com- 
plete, except  that  no  very  satisfactory  selection  was  found  cover- 
ing a  most  important  psychic  factor,  namely,  the  power  of 
idealization.  This  may  be  defined  not  very  inaccurately  as  the 
power  of  making  believe,  —  a  factor  which  sociologists  have 
scarcely  appreciated  as  yet.  We  have  such  popular  expressions  as 
"making  a  virtue  of  necessity,"  which  indicate  that  there  is  a 
certain  popular  appreciation  of  the  real  significance  of  this  power, 
but  we  have  very  little  in  the  way  of  a  scientific  appreciation  of  it. 

One  of  the  greatest  resources  of  the  human  mind  is  its  ability 
to  persuade  itself  that  what  is  necessary  is  noble,  or  dignified, 
or  honorable,  or  pleasant.  For  example,  the  greater  part  of  the 
human  race  has  been  forced  to  live  under  conditions  of  almost 
incessant  warfare.  War  being  a  necessity  from  which  there  was 
no  escape,  it  was  a  great  advantage  to  be  able  to  glorify  it,  to 
persuade  themselves  that  it  was  a  noble  calling,  —  in  other  words, 
a  good  in  itself.  In  the  first  place,  this  tended  to  relieve  the 
mental  distress  which  must  otherwise  have  been  the  lot  of  those 
living  in  constant  apprehension  of  so  hideous  and  in  every  way 
loathsome  a  thing  as  war.  Again,  the  strength  of  any  given  tribe 
in  warfare  would  be  greatly  increased  by  the  fact  that  war  had 
been  glorified  and  the  warrior  held  in  high  honor  and  esteem. 
This  would  make  better  warriors  of  its  honor-loving  men.  It 
would  make  war  the  goal  and  ambition  of  its  youth.  While  for 
the  human  race  as  a  whole  this  doubtless  worked  incalculable 
harm,  yet  for  each  individual  tribe,  being  unable  to  free  itself 
from  the  necessities  of  war,  this  was  a  great  resource. 

Another  example  is  found  in  the  case  of  work.  Work  is  still 
a  necessity  as  imperious  as  war  ever  was.  Looked  at  frankly  and 
truthfully  work  is  a  disagreeable  necessity  and  not  a  good  in 
itself.  Yet  by  persuading  ourselves  that  work  is  a  blessing,  that 
it  is  dignified  and  honorable,  our  willingness  to  work  is  materially 
increased,  and  therefore  the  process  of  adaptation  is  facilitated  ; 
in  other  words,  progress  is  accelerated.  Among  the  most  effect- 
ive agencies  for  the  promotion  of  progress,  therefore,  must  be 
included  those  which  stimulate  this  power  of  idealization.  He 
who  in  a  warlike  age  can  glorify  war  materially  increases  the 


12  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

military  strength  of  his  nation.  He  who  in  an  industrial  age  can 
glorify  work  materially  increases  the  industrial  strength  of  his 
nation.  In  short,  he  who  in  any  age  helps  to  idealize  those  fac- 
tors and  forces  upon  which  the  progress  of  his  age  depends,  is 
perhaps  the  most  useful  man,  the  most  powerful  agent,  in  the 
promotion  of  human  well-being,  even  though  from  the  strictly 
realistic  point  of  view  he  only  succeeds  in  making  things  appear 
other  than  they  really  are.  From  the  sociological  point  of  view 
this  is  the  mission  of  art  and  preaching  of  all  kinds. 

Under  the  social  and  economic  factors  the  greatest  difficulty 
was  the  absence  of  any  satisfactory  selection  covering  what  may 
be  called  the  storing  of  surplus  energy.  It  is  well  known  that 
nature  everywhere  seems  intent  on  producing  a  kind  of  equilib- 
rium or  balance.  Grass  tends  to  grow  as  thick  as  the  conditions 
of  soil  and  moisture  will  permit.  If  for  any  reason  it  becomes  too 
thick,  nature  restores  the  equilibrium  by  the  destruction  of  the 
surplus.  If  it  becomes  too  thin,  the  powers  of  reproduction  are 
so  great  that  nature  again  speedily  restores  the  equilibrium  by 
rapid  multiplication.  This  is  virtually  true  of  all  forms  of  animate 
as  well  as  inanimate  life,  and  man  is  no  exception.  In  a  state  of 
nature  the  tendency  is  for  as  many  men  to  live  in  any  habitat  as 
the  conditions  of  soil  and  climate  and  the  depredations  of  enemies 
will  permit.  Now  civilization  is  essentially  a  storing  of  surplus 
energy,  and  is  due  to  the  fact  that  men  have  had  more  energy 
to  expend  than  was  necessary  to  procure  subsistence.  The  first 
step  in  civilization,  from  this  point  of  view,  cannot  be  accounted 
for,  unless  it  is  explained  how  this  accumulation  took  place  and 
nature's  universal  law  of  equilibrium  was  defeated.  It  seems 
probable  that  some  kind  of  despotism  was  a  necessary  first  step. 
The  primitive  despot,  the  strong  man,  the  brutal  oppressor 
though  he  may  have  been,  yet  succeeded  in  wresting  from  the 
people  by  the  strength  of  his  arm  or  the  weight  of  his  fist  a 
share  of  their  subsistence.  If  they  could  not  live  on  what  was 
left  to  them,  enough  of  them  must  die  to  restore  the  equilibrium. 
He,  however,  secured  a  surplus.  Though  in  most  cases  he  prob- 
ably consumed  his  surplus  in  gluttony  and  riotous  living,  yet  in 
a  few  cases  the  whim  seized  him  to  erect  a  monumental  tomb  to 


INTRODUCTION  1 3 

his  ancestors,  a  temple  to  his  god,  or  a  palace  for  himself.  This 
may  not  have  been  worth  doing,  for  it  was  done  at  the  cost  of 
despotism  and  oppression,  and  these  are  odious.  Nevertheless 
something  was  done ;  something  was  saved  from  the  universal 
process  of  dissipation.  We  may  have  our  opinion  as  to  which 
alternative  we  prefer.  If  this  had  not  been  done,  the  life  history 
of  that  tribe  would  probably  have  continued,  as  it  had  been  for 
ages  before,  to  be  written  in  these  brief  terms  :  They  were  born, 
they  bred  and  died,  generation  after  generation  in  endless  suc- 
cession. Human  life  under  such  conditions  is  not  worth  much ; 
but  if  at  the  cost  of  despotism,  oppression,  and  injustice  some- 
thing else  is  added  to  their  achievements,  it  may  have  been  worth 
while  after  all.  This  view  is  no  defense  of  despotism  in  itself, 
especially  under  conditions  in  which  there  are  other  agencies  for 
the  accumulation  and  storing  of  surplus  energy.  Slavery,  reli- 
gious fear,  aristocracy,  —  these  have  all  doubtless  been  agencies 
for  the  accomplishment  of  the  same  purpose ;  and  though  they 
are  all  equally  odious  in  themselves,  they  may  have  been  means 
of  saving  the  race  from  a  worse  alternative.  However,  when  the 
conception  of  social  justice  had  reached  a  point  where  it  could 
distinguish  between  individual  rights  and  guarantee  to  each  in- 
dividual the  results  of  his  own  labor,  instead  of  placing  him  at 
the  mercy  of  those  members  of  his  tribe  who  were  most  glutton- 
ous or  the  most  rapid  breeders,  despotism,  aristocracy,  slavery, 
paternalism  of  all  kinds  ceased  to  be  necessary  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  this  result,  namely,  the  storing  of  surplus  energy, 
and  they  therefore  have  no  longer  any  justification  for  their 
existence. 

The  political  and  legal  factors  have  been  divided  into  two 
heads:  (i)  the  problem  as  dealt  with,  How  may  the  governor 
or  ruler  win  and  retain  the  power  of  ruling ;  (2)  how  far  and 
under  what  conditions  ought  that  power  to  be  exercised.  Under 
the  first  head  in  Machiavelli's  chapters  and  in  the  admirable  para- 
phrase by  the  writer  who  goes  under  the  name  of  Henry  Cham- 
pernowne  are  discussed  the  arts  and  devices  by  which  the  ruler 
or  the  would-be  ruler  may  obtain  his  power.  Under  the  second 
head  are  discussed  the  questions  of  state  interference, — the  limits 


14  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  the  rightful  authority  of  the  state  over  the  individual.  This 
distinction  is  not  usually  made,  and  the  compiler  gives  as  his 
reasons  the  belief  that  the  essential  differences  between  democ- 
racy and  autocracy  are  not  so  great  as  are  popularly  imagined. 
It  is  a  pure  fiction  that  under  a  democracy  the  people  rule  them- 
selves. They  are  governed  by  rulers  as  truly  as  they  are  in  an 
autocracy.  But  there  is  this  very  important  difference,  —  impor- 
tant enough,  it  would  seem,  to  make  even  the  most  pessimistic 
highly  pleased  with  the  results  of  democracy,  —  that  in  a  democ- 
racy the  people  who  are  governed  have  constitutional  methods 
of  giving  or  withholding  their  consent,  whereas  in  an  autoc- 
racy their  only  method  of  withholding  consent  is  revolution. 
We  in  America  are  as  truly  governed  by  our  leaders  as  are  the 
inhabitants  of  Russia  or  Turkey,  but  we  have  the  incalculable 
advantage  of  being  able  legally,  through  regularly  constituted 
channels,  to  express  our  assent  or  dissent  to  the  acts  of  our  gov- 
ernors ;  whereas  the  citizens  of  the  other  countries  named  have 
no  means  except  through  the  administration  of  poison  or  the 
use  of  the  dynamite  bomb.  Holding  this  view  of  democracy, 
it  seemed  to  the  compiler  that  the  first  problem  of  the  student 
of  government  is  to  find  out  how  rulers  or  governors  manage 
to  secure  their  power.  He  also  recognizes  that  in  democratic 
countries  the  boss  is  a  factor  to  be  reckoned  with  as  truly  as  the 
monarch  is  in  a  monarchical  country.  In  fact,  they  are  very 
much  alike ;  they  are  apt  to  be  the  same  kind  of  men,  though 
we  may  thank  our  stars  that  our  bosses  have  not  become 
hereditary. 

Throughout  the  work  the  compiler  has  avoided  over-emphasis 
upon  the  organic  concept  of  society.  This  is  a  concept  which  is 
so  familiar  that  the  labored  attempts  of  writers  in  recent  years 
to  perfect  the  analogy  between  society  and  an  organism  seem 
wasted  energy.  The  old  fable  of  the  "  belly  and  the  members  " 
and  St.  Paul's  argument  beginning,  "  For  as  the  body  is  one 
and  hath  many  members,"  etc.  (First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians 
xii.  12-28),  show  clearly  enough  that  the  comparison  between 
society  and  an  organism  has  been  familiar  for  a  long  time. 


PART  I --THE  NATURE,  SCOPE,  AND 
METHOD   OF  SOCIOLOGY 


II 

CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD  IN 
ITS  APPLICATION  TO  SOCIAL  PHENOMENA1 

In  every  science  conceptions  which  relate  to  method  are 
inseparable  from  those  which  relate  to  the  doctrine  under  con- 
sideration. The  method  has  to  be  so  varied  in  its  application, 
and  so  largely  modified  by  the  complexity  and  special  nature 
of  the  phenomena,  in  each  case,  that  any  general  notions  of 
method  would  be  too  indefinite  for  actual  use.  If,  therefore, 
we  have  not  separated  the  method  from  the  doctrine  in  the 
simpler  department  of  science,  much  less  should  we  think  of 
doing  so  when  treating  of  the  complex  phenomena  of  social  life, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  great  feature  of  this  last  case,  —  its  want 
of  positivity.  In  the  formation  of  a  new  science  the  general  spirit 
of  it  must  be  seized  before  its  particular  parts  can  be  investigated  ; 
that  is,  we  must  have  some  notion  of  the  doctrine  before  examin- 
ing the  method,  and  then  the  method  cannot  be  estimated  in  any 
other  way  than  by  its  use.  Thus,  I  have  not  to  offer  a  logical 
exposition  of  method  in  social  physics  before  proceeding  to  the 
science  itself  ;  but  I  must  follow  the  same  plan  here  as  in  the  case 
of  the  anterior  sciences,  —  ascertaining  its  general  spirit,  and 
what  are  the' collective  resources  proper  to  it.  Though  these  sub- 
jects may  be  said  to  belong  to  the  science  itself,  we  may  consider 
them  as  belonging  to  the  method,  as  they  are  absolutely  necessary 
to  direct  our  understandings  in  the  pursuit  of  this  difficult  study. 

1  From  The  Positive  Philosophy  of  Auguste  Comte,  translated  by  Harriet 
Martineau,  Vol.  II,  chap.  Hi,  London  and  New  York,  1853. 

15 


i6 

In  the  higher  order  of  sciences  —  in  those  which  are  the 
simplest  and  most  advanced  —  the  philosophical  definition  of 
each  was  almost  sufficient  to  characterize  their  condition  and 
general  resources,  to  which  no  doubt  could  attach.  But  the  case 
is  otherwise  with  a  recent  and  extremely  complex  study,  the 
very  nature  of  which  has  to  be  settled  by  laborious  discussions, 
which  are  happily  needless  in  regard  to  the  preceding  sciences. 
In  treating  of  biology  we  found  it  necessary  to  dwell  upon  pre- 
paratory explanations  which  would  have  seemed  puerile  in  any  of 
the  foregoing  departments,  because  the  chief  bases  of  a  science 
about  which  there  were  still  so  many  disputes  must  be  indis- 
putably settled  before  it  could  take  rank  in  the  positive  series. 
It  is  evident  that  the  same  process  is  even  more  needful,  and 
must  be  more  laborious,  in  the  case  of  the  science  of  social 
development,  which  has  hitherto  had  no  character  of  positivity 
at  all,  and  which  some  df  the  ablest  minds  of  our  time  sentence 
never  to  have  any.  We  must  not  be  surprised  then  if,  after 
applying  here  the  simplest  and  most  radical  ideas  of  positive 
philosophy,  such  as  would  indeed  appear  trivial  in  their  formal 
application  to  the  more  advanced  sciences,  the  result  would 
appear  to  many,  even  among  the  enlightened,  to  constitute  too 
bold  an  innovation,  though  the  conditions  may  be  no  more  than 
the  barest  equivalent  of  those  which  are  admitted  in  every  other 
case. 


If  we  look  with  a  philosophical  eye  upon  the  present  state  of 
social  science,  we  cannot  but  recognize  in  it  the  combination  of 
all  the  features  of  that  theologico-metaphysical  infancy  which  all 
the  other  sciences  have  had  to  pass  through.  The  present  condi- 
tion of  political  science  revives  before  our  eyes  the  analogy  of 
what  astrology  was  to  astronomy,  alchemy  to  chemistry,  and  the 
search  for  the  universal  panacea  to  the*  system  of  medical  studies. 
We  may,  for  our  present  purpose,  consider  the  theological  and 
metaphysical  polities  together,  —  the  second  being  only  a  modifi- 
cation of  the  first  in  its  relation  to  social  science.  Their  attributes 
are  the  same,  consisting,  in  regard  to  method,  in  the  preponderance 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD       17 

of  imagination  over  observation ;  and,  in  regard  to  doctrine,  in 
the  exclusive  investigation  of  absolute  ideas ;  the  result  of  both 
of  which  is  an  inevitable  tendency  to  exercise  an  arbitrary  and 
indefinite  action  over  phenomena  which  are  not  regarded  as 
subject  to  invariable  natural  laws.  In  short,  the  general  spirit 
of  all  speculation  at  that  stage  is  at  once  ideal  in  its  course, 
absolute  in  its  conception,  and  arbitrary  in  its  application  ;  and 
these  are  unquestionably  the  prevailing  characteristics  of  social 
speculation  at  present,  regarded  from  any  point  of  view  whatever. 
If  we  reverse  all  the  three  aspects,  we  shall  have  precisely  the 
spirit  which  must  actuate  the  formation  of  positive  sociology,  and 
which  must  afterwards  direct  its  continuous  development.  The 
scientific  spirit  is  radically  distinguished  from  the  theological  and 
metaphysical  by  the  steady  subordination  of  the  imagination  to 
observation  ;  and  though  the  positive  philosophy  offers  the  vastest 
and  richest  field  to  human  imagination,  it  restricts  it  to  discover- 
ing and  perfecting  the  coordination  of  observed  facts,  and  the 
means  of  effecting  new  researches  ;  and  it  is  this  habit  of 
subjecting  scientific  conceptions  to  the  facts  whose  connection 
has  to  be  disclosed,  which  it  is  above  all  things  necessary  to 
introduce  into  social  researches ;  for  the  observations  hitherto 
made  have  been  vague  and  ill-circumscribed,  so  as  to  afford  no 
adequate  foundation  for  scientific  reasoning ;  and  they  are  usually 
modified  themselves  at  the  pleasure  of  an  imagination  stimulated 
by  the  most  fluctuating  passions.  From  their  complexity  and 
their  closer  connection  with  human  passions,  political  specula- 
tions must  be  detained  longer  than  any  others  in  this  deplorable 
philosophical  condition  in  which  they  are  still  involved,  while 
simpler  and  less  stimulating  sciences  have  successively  obtained 
emancipation  ;  but  we  must  remember  that  all  other  kinds  of 
scientific  conception  have  gone  through  the  same  stage,  from 
which  they  have  issued  with  the  more  difficulty  and  delay 
exactly  in  proportion  to  their  complexity  and  special  nature. 
It  is,  indeed,  only  in  our  own  day  that  the  more  complex  have 
issued  from  that  condition  at  all,  as  we  saw  to  be  the  case  with  the 
intellectual  and  moral  phenomena  of  individual  life,  which  are  still 
studied  in  a  way  almost  as  anti-scientific  as  political  phenomena 


1 8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

themselves.  We  must  not,  then,  consider  that  uncertainty  and 
vagueness  in  observation  are  proper  to  political  subjects.  It  is 
only  that  the  same  imperfection  which  has  had  its  day  through- 
out the  whole  range  of  speculation  is  here  more  intense  and  pro- 
tracted ;  and  the  same  theory  which  shows  how  this  must  be  the 
case  gives  us  full  assurance  of  a  philosophical  regeneration  in  this 
department  of  science  analogous  to  that  which  has  taken  place 
in  the  rest,  though  by  means  of  severer  intellectual  difficulty, 
and  the  embarrassment  which  may  arise  from  collision  with  the 
predominant  passions  of  men  —  a  liability  which  cannot  but 
stimulate  the  endeavors  of  real  thinkers. 

THE  RELATIVE  SUPERSEDING  THE  ABSOLUTE 

If  we  contemplate  the  positive  spirit  in  its  relation  to  scientific 
conception  rather  than  the  mode  of  procedure,  we  shall  find  that 
this  philosophy  is  distinguished  from  the  theologico-metaphysical 
by  its  tendency  to  render  relative  the  ideas  which  were  at  first 
absolute.  This  inevitable  passage  from  the  absolute  to  the  rela- 
tive is  one  of  the  most  important  philosophical  results  of  each  of 
the  intellectual  revolutions  which  has  carried  on  every  kind  of 
speculation  from  the  theological  or  metaphysical  to  the  scientific 
state.  In  a  scientific  view  this  contrast  between  the  relative  and 
the  absolute  may  be  regarded  as  .the  most  decisive  manifestation 
of  the  antipathy  between  the  modern  philosophy  and  the  ancient. 
All  investigation  into  the  nature  of  beings,  and  their  first  and 
final  causes,  must  always  be  absolute  ;  whereas  the  study  of  the 
laws  of  phenomena  must  be  relative,  since  it  supposes  a  continu- 
ous progress  of  speculation  subject  to  the  gradual  improvement 
of  observation,  without  the  precise  reality  being  ever  fully  dis- 
closed :  so  that  the  relative  character  of  scientific  conceptions  is 
inseparable  from  the  true  idea  of  natural  laws,  just  as  the  chimer- 
ical inclination  for  absolute  knowledge  accompanies  every  use  of 
theological  fictions  and  metaphysical  entities.  Now  it  is  obvious 
that  the  absolute  spirit  characterizes  social  speculation  now 
wherever  it  exists,  as  the  different  schools  are  all  agreed  in  look- 
ing for  an  immutable  political  type,  which  makes  no  allowance 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      19 

for  the  regular  modification  of  political  conceptions  according  to 
the  variable  state  of  civilization.  This  absolute  spirit,  having 
prevailed  through  all  social  changes,  and  their  corresponding 
philosophical  divergences,  is  now  so  inherent  in  existing  politi- 
cal science  that  it  affords,  amidst  all  its  enormous  evils,  the  only 
means  of  restraining  individual  eccentricities,  and  excluding  the 
influx  of  arbitrarily  variable  opinions.  Thus,  such  philosophers 
as  have  desired  to  emancipate  themselves  from  this  absolutism, 
without  having  risen  to  the  conception  of  a  positive  social  philos- 
ophy, have  justly  incurred  the  reproach  of  representing  political 
ideas  as  uncertain  and  even  arbitrary  in  their  nature,  because  they 
have  deprived  them  of  whatever  character  of  consistency  they 
had  without  substituting  any  other.  They  have  even  cast  a  sort 
of  discredit  upon  all  philosophical  enterprise  in  the  direction  of 
political  science,  which,  losing  its  absolutism,  seemed  to  lose  its 
stability,  and  therefore  its  morality.  A  positive  sociology,  how- 
ever, would  put  to  flight  all  these  natural  though  empirical  fears  ; 
for  all  antecedent  experience  shows  that  in  other  departments  of 
natural  philosophy  scientific  ideas  have  not  become  arbitrary  by 
becoming  relative,  but  have,  on  the  contrary,  acquired  a  new  con- 
sistence and  stability  by  being  implicated  in  a  system  of  relations 
which  is  ever  extending  and  strengthening,  and  more  and  more 
restraining  all  serious  aberration.  There  is,  therefore,  no  fear  of 
falling  into  a  dangerous  skepticism  by  destroying  the  absolute 
spirit,  if  it  is  done  in  the  natural  course  of  passing  on  towards 
the  positive  state.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  it  is  characteristic  of  the 
positive  philosophy  to  destroy  no  means  of  intellectual  coordina- 
tion without  substituting  one  more  effectual  and  more  extended  ; 
and  it  is  evident  that  this  transition  from  the  absolute  to  the  rel- 
ative offers  the  only  existing  means  of  attaining  to  political  con- 
ceptions that  can  gradually  secure  a  unanimous  and  permanent 
assent.1 

1  It  is  in  harmony  with  the  positive  spirit  to  begin  by  tracing  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect  among  the  social  phenomena  of  one's  own  time  and  place,  leaving 
the  task  of  finding  principles  of  universal  application,  if  there  are  any,  for  more 
advanced  study,  when  historical  investigation  is  brought  to  the  aid  of  scientific 
analysis.  —  ED. 


20  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

PRESUMPTUOUS  CHARACTER  OF  THE  EXISTING 
POLITICAL  SPIRIT 

The  importance  and  soundness  of  these  conditions  are  less  con- 
spicuous than  they  might  be,  on  account  of  the  too  close  connec- 
tion which,  in  social  science  more  than  any  other,  still  exists 
between  theory  and  practice,  in  consequence  of  which  all  specu- 
lative and  abstract  appreciation,  however  supremely  important, 
excites  only  a  feeble  interest  and  inadequate  attention.  To  show 
how  this  confusion  results  from  the  imperfection  of  social  science, 
as  the  most  complex  of  all,  we  must  look  at  the  existing  political 
spirit  in  relation  to  its  general  application,  and  not  for  the  moment 
in  relation  to  the  science  itself.  In  this  view  we  see  that  the  exist- 
ing political  spirit  is  marked  by  its  disposition  to  exercise  an  illim- 
itable action  over  the  corresponding  phenomena,  as  it  was  once 
supposed  possible  to  do  in  other  departments  of  philosophy.  Men 
were  long  in  learning  that  man's  power  of  modifying  phenomena 
can  result  only  from  his  knowledge  of  their  natural  laws  ;  and  in 
the  infancy  of  each  science  they  believed  themselves  able  to  exert 
an  unbounded  influence  over  the  phenomena  of  that  science.  As 
this  happened  precisely  at  the  period  when  they  had  the  least 
power  over  phenomena,  from  ignorance  of  their  laws,  they  rested 
their  confidence  on  expectations  of  aid  from  supernatural  agents, 
or  mysterious  forces  supposed  to  be  inherent  in  all  that  they  saw. 
The  delusion  was  protracted  and  the  growth  of  true  science  hin- 
dered in  proportion  by  the  increasing  complexity  of  the  descend- 
ing sciences,  as  each  order  of  phenomena  exhibited  less  generality 
than  the  last  and  obscured  the  perception  as  to  what  the  modify- 
ing power  of  man  really  is.  Social  phenomena  are,  of  course, 
from  their  extreme  complexity,  the  last  to  be  freed  from  this  pre- 
tension ;  but  it  is,  therefore,  only  the  more  necessary  to  remember 
that  the  pretension  existed  with  regard  to  all  the  rest,  in  their  ear- 
liest stage,  and  to  anticipate,  therefore,  that  social  science  will,  in 
its  turn,  be  emancipated  from  the  delusion.  It  still  hangs  about 
the  class  of  intellectual  and  moral  phenomena  ;  but  otherwise  it  is 
now  confined  to  social  subjects.  There,  amidst  the  dawning  of  a 
sounder  philosophy,  we  see  statesmen  and  politicians  still  supposing 


that  social  phenomena  can  be  modified  at  will,  the  human  race 
having,  in  their  view,  no  spontaneous  impulsion,  but  being  always 
ready  to  yield  to  any  influence  of  the  legislator,  spiritual  or  tem- 
poral, provided  he  is  invested  with  a  sufficient  authority.  We  see 
the  theological  polity,  as  before,  more  consistent  than  the  meta- 
physical, explaining  the  monstrous  disproportion  between  slight 
causes  and  vast  effects  by  regarding  the  legislator  as  merely  the 
organ  of  a  supernatural  and  absolute  power ;  and  again,  we  see 
the  metaphysical  school  following  the  same  course,  merely  substi- 
tuting for  Providence  its  unintelligible  entities,  and  especially  its 
grand  entity,  Nature,  which  comprehends  all  the  rest,  and  is  evi- 
dently only  an  abstract  deterioration  of  the  theological  principle. 
Going  further  than  the  theological  school  in  its  disdain  of  the  sub- 
jection of  effects  to  causes,  it  escapes  from  difficulty  by  attributing 
observed  events  to  chance,  and  sometimes,  when  that  method  is 
too  obviously  absurd,  exaggerating  ridiculously  the  influence  of 
the  individual  mind  upon  the  course  of  human  affairs.  The  result 
is  the  same  in  both  cases.  It  represents  the  social  action  of  man 
to  be  indefinite  and  arbitrary,  as  was  once  thought  in  regard  to 
biological,  chemical,  physical,  and  even  astronomical  phenomena, 
in  the  earlier  stages  of  their  respective  sciences.  It  is  easy  to  see 
that  true  political  science  would  be  unacceptable,  because  it  must 
impose  limits  on  political  action,  by  dissipating  forever  the  preten- 
sion of  governing  at  will  this  class  of  phenomena,  and  withdrawing 
them  from  human  or  superhuman  caprice.  In  close  connection 
with  the  tendency  to  absolute  conceptions,  we  must  recognize  in 
this  delusion  the  chief  intellectual  cause  of  the  social  disturbance 
which  now  exists  ;  for  the  human  race  finds  itself  delivered  over, 
without  logical  protection,  to  the  ill-regulated  experimentation  of 
the  various  political  schools,  each  one  of  which  strives  to  set  up, 
for  all  future  time,  its  own  immutable  type  of  government.  We 
have  seen  what  are  the  chaotic  results  of  such  a  strife,  and  we 
shall  find  that  there  is  no  chance  of  order  and  agreement  but  in 
subjecting  social  phenomena,  like  all  others,  to  invariable  natural 
laws,  which  shall,  as  a  whole,  prescribe  for  each  period,  with  entire 
certainty,  the  limits  and  character  of  political  action,  —  in  other 
words,  introducing  into  the  study  of  social  phenomena  the  same 


22 

positive  spirit  which  has  regenerated  every  other  branch  of  human 
speculation.  Such  a  procedure  is  the  true  scientific  basis  of  human 
dignity,  as  the  chief  tendencies  of  man's  nature  thus  acquire  a 
solemn  character  of  authority  which  must  be  always  respected  by 
rational  legislation  ;  whereas  the  existing  belief  in  the  indefinite 
power  of  political  combinations,  which  seems  at  first  to  exalt  the 
importance  of  man,  issues  in  attributing  to  him  a  sort  of  social 
automatism  passively  directed  by  some  supremacy  of  either  Provi- 
dence or  the  human  ruler.  I  have  said  enough  to  show  that  the 
central  difficulty  in  the  task  of  regenerating  political  science  is  to 
rectify  such  an  error  of  conception,  at  a  time  when  our  prevailing 
intellectual  habits  render  it  difficult  to  seize  social  conceptions  in 
any  other  than  their  practical  aspect,  and  when  their  scientific  and, 
yet  more,  their  logical  relations  are  obscured  by  the  prepossessions 
of  the  general  mind. 

PREVISION  OF  SOCIAL  PHENOMENA 

The  last  of  the  preliminary  considerations  that  we  have  to 
review  is  that  of  the  scientific  prevision  of  phenomena,  which,  as 
the  test  of  true  science,  includes  all  the  rest.  We  have  to  con- 
template social  phenomena  as  susceptible  of  prevision,  like  all 
other  classes,  within  the  limits  of  exactness  compatible  with  their 
higher  complexity.  Comprehending  the  three  characteristics  of 
political  science  which  we  have  been  examining,  prevision  of  social 
phenomena  supposes,  first,  that  we  have  abandoned  the  region  of 
metaphysical  idealities  to  assume  the  ground  of  observed  realities 
by  a  systematic  subordination  of  imagination  to  observation  ;  sec- 
ondly, that  political  conceptions  have  ceased  to  be  absolute,  and 
have  become  relative  to  the  variable  state  of  civilization,  so  that 
theories,  following  the  natural  course  of  facts,  may  admit  of  our 
foreseeing  them  ;  and,  thirdly,  that  permanent  political  action  is 
limited  by  determinate  laws,  since,  if  social  events  were  always 
exposed  to  disturbance  by  the  accidental  intervention  of  the  legis- 
lator, human  or  divine,  no  scientific  prevision  of  them  would  be 
possible.  Thus,  we  may  concentrate  the  conditions  of  the  spirit  of 
positive  social  philosophy  on  this  one  great  attribute  of  scientific 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD 


23 


prevision.  This  concentration  is  all  the  more  apt  for  the  pur- 
pose of  our  inquiry,  because  there  is  no  other  view  in  which  the 
new  social  philosophy  is  so  clearly  distinguished  from  the  old. 
Events  ordered  by  a  supernatural  will  may  leave  room  for  a  sup- 
position of  revelation ;  but  the  very  thought  of  prevision  in  that 
case  is  sacrilegious,  and  the  case  is  essentially  the  same  when  the 
direction  of  events  is  assigned  to  metaphysical  entities,  except  that 
it  leaves  the  chance  of  revelation,  the  existence  of  which  chance 
shows  that  the  metaphysical  conception  is  a  mere  modification  of 
the  theological.  The  old  conceptions  may  evidently  be  applied  to 
explain  opposite  facts  equally  well ;  and  they  can  never  afford  the 
slightest  indication  of  those  which  are  yet  future.  And,  if  it  be 
objected  that,  at  all  times,  a  great  number  of  secondary  political 
facts  have  been  considered  susceptible  of  prevision,  this  only 
proves  that  the  old  philosophy  has  never  been  strictly  universal, 
but  has  always  been  tempered  by  an  admixture  of  feeble  and 
imperfect  positivism,  without  more  or  less  of  which  society  could 
not  have  held  on  its  course.  This  admixture  has,  however,  been 
hitherto  insufficient  to  allow  anything  worthy  the  name  of  pre- 
vision, —  anything  more  than  a  sort  of  popular  forecast  of  some 
secondary  and  partial  matters,  —  never  rising  above  an  uncertain 
and  rough  empiricism,  which  might  be  of  some  provisional  use, 
but  could  not  in  any  degree  supply  the  need  of  a  true  political 
philosophy. 

Having  now  ascertained  the  fundamental  position  of  the  prob- 
lems of  political  philosophy,  and  thus  obtained  guidance  as  to 
the  scientific  aim  to  be  attained,  the  next  step  is  to  exhibit  the 
general  spirit  of  social  physics,  whose  conditions  we  have  been 
deciding. 

SPIRIT  OF  SOCIAL  SCIENCE 

The  philosophical  principle  of  the  science  being  that  social 
phenomena  are  subject  to  natural  laws,  admitting  of  rational  pre- 
vision, we  have  to  ascertain  what  is  the  precise  subject  and  what 
the  peculiar  character  of  those  laws.  The  distinction  between 
the  statical  and  dynamical  conditions  of  the  subject  must  be 
extended  to  social  science  ;  and  I  shall  treat  of  the  conditions  of 


social  existence,  as  in  biology  I  treated  of  organization  under  the 
head  of  anatomy  ;  and  then  of  the  laws  of  social  movement,  as  in 
biology  of  those  of  life  under  the  head  of  physiology.  This  divi- 
sion, necessary  for  exploratory  purposes,  must  not  be  stretched 
beyond  that  use  ;  and  as  we  saw  in  biology  that  the  distinction 
becomes  weaker  with  the  advance  of  science,  so  shall  we  see  that 
when  the  science  of  social  physics  is  fully  constituted,  this  division 
will  remain  for  analytical  purposes,  but  not  as  a  real  separation 
of  the  science  into  two  parts.  The  distinction  is  not  between  two 
classes  of  facts,  but  between  two  aspects  of  a  theory.  It  corre- 
sponds with  the  double  conception  of  order  and  progress ;  for  order 
consists  (in  a  positive  sense)  in  a  permanent  harmony  among  the 
conditions  of  social  existence,  and  progress  consists  in  social  devel- 
opment ;  and  the  conditions  in  the  one  case  and  the  laws  of  move- 
ment in  the  other  constitute  the  statics  and  dynamics  of  social 
physics.1  And  here  we  find  again  the  constant  relation  between 
the  science  and  the  art, — the  theory  and  the  practice.  A  science 
which  proposes  a  positive  study  of  the  laws  of  order  and  of  prog- 
ress cannot  be  regarded  with  speculative  rashness  by  practical 
men  of  any  intelligence,  since  it  offers  the  only  rational  basis  for 
the  practical  means  of  satisfying  the  needs  of  society  as  to  order 
and  progress ;  and  the  correspondence  in  this  case  will  be  found 
to  be  analogous  to  that  which  we  have  seen  to  exist  between  bio- 
logical science  and  the  arts  which  relate  to  it,  —  the  medical  art 
especially.  One  view  of  the  deepest  interest  in  this  connection  is 
that  the  ideas  of  order  and  progress  which  are  in  perpetual  con- 
flict in  existing  society,  occasioning  infinite  disturbance,  are  thus 
reconciled  and  made  necessary  to  each  other,  becoming  as  truly 
inseparable  as  the  ideas  of  organization  and  life  in  the  individual 
being.  The  further  we  go  in  the  study  of  the  conditions  of  human 
society,  the  more  clearly  will  the  organizing  and  progressive  spirit 
of  the  positive  philosophy  become  manifest. 

1  The  present  tendency  among  students  is  to  question  the  utility  of  a  static  study 
of  society.  Sociology  is  coming  to  be  a  study  of  activities  and  processes,  of  mani- 
festations of  social  energy.  Therefore  the  distinction  between  statical  and  dynam- 
ical sociology,  while  logically  possible,  is  practically  of  little  value.  —  ED. 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD       25 

STATICAL  STUDY 

The  statical  study  of  sociology  consists  in  the  investigation  of 
laws  of  action  and  reaction  of  the  different  parts  of  the  social  sys- 
tem, apart,  for  the  occasion,  from  the  fundamental  movement  which 
is  always  gradually  modifying  them.  In  this  view,  sociological  pre- 
vision, founded  upon  the  exact  general  knowledge  of  those  rela- 
tions, acts  by  judging  by  each  other  the  various  statical  indica- 
tions of  each  mode  of  social  existence  in  conformity  with  direct 
observation,  just  as  is  done  daily  in  the  case  of  anatomy.  This  view 
condemns  the  existing  philosophical  practice  of  contemplating 
social  elements  separately,  as  if  they  had  an  independent  exist- 
ence, and  it  leads  us  to  regard  them  as  in  mutual  relation  and 
forming  a  whole,  which  compels  us  to  treat  them  in  combination. 
By  this  method  not  only  are  we  furnished  with  the  only  possible 
basis  for  the  study  of  social  movement,  but  we  are  put  in  posses- 
sion of  an  important  aid  to  direct  observation,  since  many  social 
elements  which  cannot  be  investigated  by  immediate  observa- 
tion may  be  estimated  by  their  scientific  relation  to  others  already 
known.  When  we  have  a  scientific  knowledge  of  the  interior 
relation  of  the  parts  of  any  science  or  art,  and  again  of  the  rela- 
tion of  the  sciences  to  each  other,  and  again  of  the  relations  of 
the  arts  to  their  respective  sciences,  the  observation  of  certain 
portions  of  the  scheme  enables  us  to  pronounce  on  the  state 
of  other  portions  with  a  true  philosophical  security.  The  case 
is  the  same  when,  instead  of  studying  the  collective  social  phe- 
nomena of  a  single  nation,  we  include  in  the  study  those  of 
contemporary  nations  whose  reciprocal  influence  cannot  be  dis- 
puted, though  it  is  much  reduced  in  modern  times,  and,  as  in 
the  instance  of  western  Europe  and  eastern  Asia,  apparently 
almost  effaced. 

SOCIAL  ORGANIZATION 

The  only  essential  case  in  which  this  fundamental  relation  is 
misconceived  or  neglected  is  that  which  is  the  most  important 
of  all,  involving,  as  it  does,  social  organization,  properly  so 
called.  The  theory  of  social  organization  is  still  conceived  of 


26  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

as  absolute  and  isolated,  independent  altogether  of  the  general 
analysis  of  the  corresponding  civilization,  of  which  it  can,  in  fact, 
constitute  only  one  of  the  principal  elements.  This  vice  is  charge- 
able in  an  almost  equal  degree  upon  the  most  opposite  political 
schools,  which  agree  in  abstract  discussions  of  political  systems, 
without  thinking  of  the  coexisting  state  of  civilization,  and  usu- 
ally conclude  with  making  their  immutable  political  type  coincide 
with  an  infantile  state  of  human  development.  If  we  ascend  to 
the  philosophical  source  of  this  error,  we  shall  find  it,  I  think, 
in  the  great  theological  dogma  of  the  fall  of  man.1  This  funda- 
mental dogma,  which  reappears,  in  one  form  or  another,  in  all 
religions,  and  which  is  supported  in  its  intellectual  influence  by 
the  natural  propensity  of  men  to  admire  the  past,  tends,  directly 
and  necessarily,  to  make  the  continuous  deterioration  of  society 
coincide  with  the  extension  of  civilization.  We  have  noticed 
before  how,  when  it  passes  from  the  theological  into  the  meta- 
physical state,  this  dogma  takes  the  form  of  the  celebrated 
hypothesis  of  a  chimerical  state  of  nature  superior  to  the  social 
state,  and  the  more  remote,  the  further  we  advance  in  civiliza- 
tion. We  cannot  fail  to  perceive  the  extreme  seriousness,  in  a 
political  as  well  as  a  philosophical  sense,  of  an  error  so  com- 
pletely incorporated  with  existing  doctrines,  and  so  deeply  influ- 
encing, in  an  unconscious  way,  our  collective  social  speculations, 
—  the  more  disastrously,  perhaps,  for  not  being  expressly  main- 
tained as  a  general  principle.  If  it  were  so  presented  it  must 
immediately  give  way  before  sound  philosophical  discussion,  for 
it  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  many  ideas  in  political  philos- 
ophy which,  without  having  attained  any  scientific  consistency, 
are  obtaining  some  intellectual  ascendency  through  the  natural 
course  of  events  or  the  expansion  of  the  general  mind.  For 
instance,  all  enlightened  political  writers  acknowledge  more  or 
less  mutual  relation  between  political  institutions  ;  and  this  is 
the  first  direct  step  towards  the  rational  conception  of  the  agree- 
ment of  the  special  system  of  institutions  with  the  total  system 
of  civilization 

1  This  is  only  an  attempt  to  explain  the  obvious  lack  of  harmony  between  man 
and  his  environment.  —  ED. 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      27 

POLITICAL  AND   SOCIAL  CONCURRENCE 

We  now  see  the  best  thinkers  admitting  a  constant  mutual 
connection  between  the  political  and  the  civil  power :  which 
means,  in  scientific  language,  that  preponderating  social  forces 
always  end  in  assuming  the  direction  of  society.  Such  partial 
advances  towards  a  right  view  —  such  fortunate  feeling  after 
the  right  path  —  must  not,  however,  induce  us  to  relax  in  our 
requirements  of  a  true  philosophical  conception  of  that  general 
social  agreement  which  can  alone  constitute  organization.  Desul- 
tory indications,  more  literary  than  scientific,  can  never  supply 
the  place  of  a  strict  philosophical  doctrine,  as  we  may  see  from 
the  fact  that,  from  Aristotle  downwards  (and  even  from  an  ear- 
lier period),  the  greater  number  of  philosophers  have  constantly 
reproduced  the  famous  aphorism  of  the  necessary  subordination 
of  laws  to  manners,  without  this  germ  of  sound  philosophy  hav- 
ing had  any  effect  on  the  general  habit  of  regarding  institutions 
as  independent  of  the  coexisting  state  of  civilization,  however 
strange  it  may  seem  that  such  a  contradiction  should  live  through 
twenty  centuries.  This  is,  however,  the  natural  course  with 
intellectual  principles  and  philosophical  opinions  as  well  as  with 
social  manners  and  political  institutions.  When  once  they  have 
obtained  possession  of  men's  minds,  they  live  on,  notwithstand- 
ing their  admitted  impotence  and  inconvenience,  giving  occasion 
to  more  and  more  serious  inconsistencies,  till  the  expansion  of 
human  reason  originates  new  principles,  of  equivalent  generality 
and  superior  rationality.  We  must  not,  therefore,  take  for  more 
than  their  worth  the  desultory  attempts  that  we  see  made  in  the 
right  direction,  but  must  insist  on  the  principle  which  lies  at  the 
heart  of  every  scheme  of  social  organization,  —  the  necessary 
participation  of  the  collective  political  regime  in  the  universal 
.consensus  of  the  social  body. 

The  scientific  principle  of  the  relation  between  the  political 
and  the  social  condition  is  simply  this  :  that  there  must  always 
be  a  spontaneous  harmony  between  the  whole  and  the  par^ts  of 
the  social  system,  the  elements  of  which  must  inevitably  be 
sooner  or  later  combined  in  a  mode  entirely  conformable  to  their 


28  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

nature.  It  is  evident  that  not  only  must  political  institutions  and 
social  manners  on  the  one  hand,  and  manners  and  ideas  on  the 
other,  be  always  mutually  connected,  but,  further,  that  this  con- 
solidated whole  must  be  always  connected,  by  its  nature,  with 
the  corresponding  state  of  the  integral  development  of  humanity, 
considered  in  all  its  aspects,  of  intellectual,  moral,  and  physical 
activity ;  and  the  only  object  of  any  political  system  whatever, 
temporal  or  spiritual,  is  to  regulate  the  spontaneous  expansion 
so  as  to  best  direct  it  towards  its  determinate  end.  Even  during 
revolutionary  periods,  when  the  harmony  appears  furthest  from 
being  duly  realized,  it  still  exists ;  for  without  it  there  would  be 
a  total  dissolution  of  the  social  organism.  During  those  excep- 
tional seasons  the  political  regime  is  still,  in  the  long  run,  in 
conformity  with  the  corresponding  state  of  civilization,  as  the 
disturbances  which  are  manifest  in  the  one  proceed  from  equiva- 
lent derangements  in  the  other.  It  is  observable  that  when  the 
popular  theory  attributes  to  the  legislator  the  permanent  power 
of  infringing  the  harmony  we  are  speaking  of,  it  supposes  him 
to  be  armed  with  a  sufficient  authority.  But  every  social  power, 
whether  called  authority  or  anything  else,  is  constituted  by 
a  corresponding  assent,  spontaneous  or  deliberate,  explicit  or 
implicit,  of  various  individual  wills,  resolved,  from  certain  pre- 
paratory convictions,  to  concur  in  a  common  action  of  which  this 
power  is  first  the  organ  and  then  the  regulator.  Thus  authority 
is  derived  from  concurrence,  and  not  concurrence  from  authority 
(setting  aside  the  necessary  reaction),  so  that  no  great  power 
can  arise  otherwise  than  from  the  strongly  prevalent  disposition 
of  the  society  in  which  it  exists ;  and  when  there  is  no  strong 
preponderance,  such  powers  as  exist  are  weak  accordingly ;  and 
the  more  extensive  the  society  the  more  irresistible  is  the  cor- 
respondence. On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  denying  the  influ- 
ence which,  by  a  necessary  reaction,  the  political  system  as  a 
whole  exercises  over  the  general  system  of  civilization,  and  which 
is  so  often  exhibited  in  the  action,  fortunate  or  disastrous,  of 
institutions,  measures,  or  purely  political  events,  even  upon  the 
course  of  the  sciences  and  arts,  in  all  ages  of  society,  and 
especially  the  earliest.  We  need  not  dwell  on  this,  for  no  one 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE   POSITIVE  METHOD      29 

denies  it.  The  common  error,  indeed,  is  to  exaggerate  it,  so  as  to 
place  the  reaction  before  the  primary  action.  It  is  evident,  con- 
sidering their  scientific  relation  to  each  other,  that  both  concur 
in  creating  that  fundamental  agreement  of  the  social  organism 
which  I  propose  to  set  forth  in  a  brief  manner  as  the  philo- 
sophical principle  of  statical  sociology.  We  shall  have  to  advert 
repeatedly  to  the  subject  of  the  general  correspondence  between 
the  political  regime  and  the  contemporary  state  of  civilization, 
in  connection  with  the  question  of  the  necessary  limits  of  politi- 
cal action,  and  in  the  chapter  which  I  must  devote  to  social 
statics ;  but  I  did  not  think  fit  to  wait  for  these  explanations 
before  pointing  out  that  the  political  system  ought  always  to  be 
regarded  as  relative.  The  relative  point  of  view,  substituted  for 
the  absolute  tendency  of  the  ordinary  theories,  certainly  con- 
stitutes the  chief  scientific  character  of  the  positive  philosophy 
in  its  political  application.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  the  conception  of 
this  connection  between  government  and  civilization  presents 
all  ideas  of  political  good  or  evil  as  necessarily  relative  and  vari- 
able (which  is  quite  another  thing  than  being  arbitrary),  on  the 
other  hand  it  provides  a  rational  basis  for  a  positive  theory  of 
the  spontaneous  order  of  human  society,  already  vaguely  per- 
ceived in  regard  to  some  minor  relations,  by  that  part  of  the 
metaphysical  polity  which  we  call  political  economy ;  for  if  the 
value  of  any  political  system  can  consist  in  nothing  but  its  har- 
mony with  the  corresponding  social  state,  it  follows  that  in  the 
natural  course  of  events,  and  in  the  absence  of  intervention, 
such  a  harmony  must  necessarily  be  established. 

INTERCONNECTION  OF  THE  SOCIAL  ORGANISM 

There  are  two  principal  considerations  which  induce  me  to 
insist  on  this  elementary  idea  of  the  radical  consensus  proper 
to  the  social  organism  :  ( i )  the  extreme  philosophical  impor- 
tance of  this  master  thought  of  social  statics,  which  must,  from 
its  nature,  constitute  the  rational  basis  of  any  new  political 
philosophy ;  (2)  in  an  accessory  way,  that  dynamical  consid- 
erations of  sociology  must  prevail  throughout  the  rest  of  this 


30  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

work,  as  being  at  present  more  interesting  and  therefore  better 
understood  ;  and  it  is  on  that  account  the  more  necessary  to 
characterize  now  the  general  spirit  of  social  statics,  which  will 
henceforth  be  treated  only  in  an  indirect  and  implicit  way.  As 
all  artificial  and  voluntary  order  is  simply  a  prolongation  of  the 
natural  and  involuntary  order  to  which  all  human  society  tends, 
every  rational  political  institution  must  rest  upon  an  exact  pre- 
paratory analysis  of  corresponding  spontaneous  tendencies,  which 
alone  can  furnish  a  sufficiently  solid  basis.  In  brief,  it  is  our 
business  to  contemplate  order  that  we  may  perfect  it,  and  not 
to  create  it,  which  would  be  impossible.  In  a  scientific  view  this 
master  thought  of  universal  social  interconnection  becomes  the 
consequence  and  complement  of  a  fundamental  idea  established, 
in  our  view  of  biology,  as  eminently  proper  to  the  study  of  living 
bodies  ;  not  that  this  idea  of  interconnection  is  peculiar  to  that 
study  ;  it  is  necessarily  common  to  all  phenomena,  but  amidst 
immense  differences  in  intensity  and  variety,  and  therefore  in 
philosophical  importance.  It  is,  in  fact,  true  that  wherever  there 
is  any  system  whatever,  a  certain  interconnection  must  exist. 
The  purely  mechanical  phenomena  of  astronomy  offer  the  first 
suggestion  of  it,  for  the  perturbations  of  one  planet  may  sensibly 
affect  another  through  a  modified  gravitation  ;  but  the  relation 
becomes  closer  and  more  marked  in  proportion  to  the  complexity 
and  diminished  generality  of  the  phenomena,  and  thus  it  is  in 
organic  systems  that  we  must  look  for  the  fullest  mutual  con- 
nection. Hitherto  it  had  been  merely  an  accessory  idea,  but 
then  it  became  the  basis  of  positive  conceptions  ;  and  it  becomes 
more  marked,  the  more  compound  are  the  organisms  and  the 
more  complex  the  phenomena  in  question,  —  the  animal  inter- 
connection being  more  complete  than  the  vegetable,  and  the 
human  more  than  the  brute,  the  nervous  system  being  the  chief 
seat  of  the  biological  interconnection.  The  idea  must  therefore 
be  scientifically  preponderant  in  social  physics,  even  more  than 
in  biology,  where  it  is  so  decisively  recognized  by  the  best  order 
of  students.  But  the  existing  political  philosophy  supposes  the 
absence  of  any  such  interconnection  among  the  aspects  of  society, 
and  it  is  this  which  has  rendered  it  necessary  for  me  now  to 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      31 

establish  the  point,  leaving  the  illustration  of  it  to  a  future  por- 
tion of  the  volume.  Its  consideration  is,  in  fact,  as  indispensable 
in  assigning  its  encyclopedic  rank  to  social  science  as  we  before 
saw  it  to  be  in  instituting  social  physics  a  science  at  all. 

It  follows  from  this  attribute  that  there  can  be  no  scientific 
study  of  society  either  in  its  conditions  or  its  movements,  if  it 
is  separated  into  portions  and  its  divisions  are  studied  apart. 
I  have  already  remarked  upon  this  in  regard  to  what  is  called 
political  economy.  Materials  may  be  furnished  by  the  obser- 
vation of  different  departments  ;  and  such  observation  may  be 
necessary  for  that  object,  but  it  cannot  be  called  science.  The 
methodical  division  of  studies  which  takes  place  in  the  simple 
inorganic  sciences  is  thoroughly  irrational  in  the  recent  and 
complex  science  of  society,  and  can  produce  no  results.  The 
day  may  come  when  some  sort  of  subdivision  may  be  practicable 
and  desirable,  but  it  is  impossible  for  us  now  to  anticipate  what 
the  principle  of  distribution  may  be  ;  for  the  principle  itself  must 
arise  from  the  development  of  the  science,  and  that  develop- 
ment can  take  place  no  otherwise  than  by  our  formation  of  the 
science  as  a  whole.  The  complete  body  will  indicate  for  itself, 
at  the  right  season,  the  particular  points  which  need  investiga- 
tion, and  then  will  be  the  time  for  such  special  study  as  may  be 
required.  By  any  other  method  of  proceeding  we  shall  only  find 
ourselves  encumbered  with  special  discussions  badly  instituted, 
worse  pursued,  and  accomplishing  no  other  purpose  than  that  of 
impeding  the  formation  of  real  science.  It  is  no  easy  matter  to 
study  social  phenomena  in  the  only  right  way,  —  viewing  each 
element  in  the  light  of  the  whole  system.  It  is  no  easy  matter 
to  exercise  such  vigilance  that  no  one  of  the  number  of  con- 
temporary aspects  shall  be  lost  sight  of,  but  it  is  the  right  and 
the  only  way,  and  we  may  perceive  in  it  a  clear  suggestion  that 
this  lofty  study  should  be  reserved  for  the  highest  order  of  sci- 
entific minds,  better  prepared  than  others,  by  wise  educational 
discipline,  for  sustained  speculative  efforts,  aided  by  an  habitual 
subordination  of  the  passions  to  the  reason.  There  is  no  need 
to  draw  out  any  lengthened  comparison  between  this  state  of 
things  as  it  should  be  and  that  which  is ;  and  no  existing 


32 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


degree  of  social  disturbance  can  surprise  us  when  we  consider 
how  intellectual  anarchy  is  at  the  bottom  of  such  disturbance, 
and  see  how  anarchical  our  intellectual  condition  appears  in  the 
presence  of  the  principle  I  have  laid  down. 

ORDER  OF  STATICAL  STUDY 

Before  we  go  on  to  the  subject  of  social  dynamics  I  will  just 
remark  that  the  prominent  interconnection  we  have  been  con- 
sidering prescribes  a  procedure  in  organic  studies  different  from 
that  which  suits  inorganic.  The  metaphysicians  announce  as  an 
aphorism  that  we  should  always,  in  every  kind  of  study,  proceed 
from  the  simple  to  the  compound  ;  whereas  it  appears  most 
rational  to  suppose  that  we  should  follow  that  or  the  reverse 
method,  as  may  best  suit  our  subject.  There  can  be  no  absolute 
merit  in  the  method  enjoined,  apart  from  its  suitableness.  The 
rule  should  rather  be  (and  there  probably  was  a  time  when  the 
two  rules  were  one)  that  we  must  proceed  from  the  more  known 
to  the  less.  Now  in  the  inorganic  sciences  the  elements  are  much 
better  known  to  us  than  the  whole  which  they  constitute ;  so 
that  in  that  case  we  must  proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
pound. But  the  reverse  method  is  necessary  in  the  study  of 
man  and  of  society  ;  man  and  society,  as-  a  whole,  being  better 
known  to  us,  and  more  accessible  subjects  of  study,  than  the 
parts  which  constitute  them.  In  exploring  the  universe  it  is  as 
a  whole  that  it  is  inaccessible  to  us,  whereas  in  investigating 
man  or  society  our  difficulty  is  in  penetrating  the  details.  We 
have  seen  in  our  survey  of  biology  that  the  general  idea  of  animal 
nature  is  more  distinct  to  our  minds  than  the  simpler  notion  of 
vegetable  nature,  and  that  man  is  the  biological  unity ;  the  idea 
of  man  being  at  once  the  most  compound  and  the  starting  point 
of  speculation  in  regard  to  vital  existence.  Thus  if  we  compare 
the  two  halves  of  natural  philosophy,  we  shall  find  that  in  the 
one  case  it  is  the  last  degree  of  composition,  and  in  the  other 
the  last  degree  of  simplicity,  that  is  beyond  the  scope  of  our 
research.  As  for  the  rest,  it  may  obviate  some  danger  of  idle 
discussions  to  say  that  the  positive  philosophy,  subordinating 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      33 

all  fancies  to  reality,  excludes  logical  controversies  about  the 
absolute  value  of  this  or  that  method,  apart  from  its  scientific 
application.  The  only  ground  of  preference  being  the  superior 
adaptation  of  any  means  to  the  proposed  end,  this  philosophy 
may,  without  any  inconsistency,  change  its  order  of  proceeding 
when  the  one  first  tried  is  found  to  be  inferior  to  its  converse,  — 
a  discovery  of  which  there  is  no  fear  in  regard  to  the  question 
we  have  now  been  examining. 

DYNAMICAL  STUDY 

Passing  on  from  statical  to  dynamical  sociology,  we  will  con- 
template the  philosophical  conception  which  should  govern  our 
study  of  the  movement  of  society.  Part  of  this  subject  is  already 
dispatched,  because  the  explanations  made  in  connection  with 
statics  have  simplified  the  chief  difficulties  of  the  case ;  and 
social  dynamics  will  be  so  prominent  throughout  the  rest  of  this 
work  that  I  may  reduce  within  very  small  compass  what  I  have 
to  say  now  under  that  head. 

Though  the  statical  view  of  society  is  the  basis  of  sociology, 
the  dynamical  view  is  not  only  the  more  interesting  of  the  two 
but  the  more  marked  in  its  philosophical  character,  from  its 
being  more  distinguished  from  biology  by  the  master  thought 
of  continuous  progress,  or  rather  of  the  gradual  development  of 
humanity.  If  I  were  writing  a  methodical  treatise  on  political 
philosophy,  it  would  be  necessary  to  offer  a  preliminary  analysis 
of  the  individual  impulsions  which  make  up  the  progressive  force 
of  the  human  race,  by  referring  them  to  that  instinct  which 
results  from  the  concurrence  of  all  our  natural  tendencies,  and 
which  urges  man  to  develop  the  whole  of  his  life,  physical,  moral, 
and  intellectual,  as  far  as  his  circumstances  allow.  But  this  view 
is  admitted  by  all  enlightened  philosophers,  so  that  I  may  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  consider  the  continuous  succession  of  human 
development  regarded  in  the  whole  race,  as  if  humanity  were 
one.  For  clearness  we  may  take  advantage  of  Condorcet's  device 
of  supposing  a  single  nation  to  which  we  may  refer  all  the  con- 
secutive social  modifications  actually  witnessed  among  distinct 


34  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

peoples.  This  rational  fiction  is  nearer  the  reality  than  we  are 
accustomed  to  suppose ;  for,  in  a  political  view,  the  true  suc- 
cessors of  such  or  such  a  people  are  certainly  those  who,  taking 
up  and  carrying  out  their  primitive  endeavors,  have  prolonged 
their  social  progress,  whatever  may  be  the  soil  which  they 
inhabit,  or  even  the  race  from  which  they  spring.  In  brief,  it 
is  political  continuity  which  regulates  sociological  succession, 
though  the  having  a  common  country  must  usually  affect  this 
continuity  in  a  high  degree.  As  a  scientific  artifice  merely,  how- 
ever, I  shall  employ  this  hypothesis,  and  on  the  ground  of  its 
manifest  utility. 

SOCIAL  CONTINUITY 

The  true  general  spirit  of  social  dynamics,  then,  consists  in 
conceiving  of  each  of  these  consecutive  social  states  as  the 
necessary  result  of  the  preceding  and  the  indispensable  mover  of 
the  following,  according  to  the  axiom  of  Leibnitz,  —  the  present 
is  big-  with  the  future.  In  this  view  the  object  of  science  is  to 
discover  the  laws  which  govern  this  continuity,  and  the  aggre- 
gate of  which  determines  the  course  of  human  development. 
In  short,  social  dynamics  studies  the  laws  of  succession,  while 
social  statics  inquires  into  those  of  coexistence  ;  so  that  the  use 
of  the  first  is  to  furnish  the  true  theory  of  progress  to  political 
practice,  while  the  second  performs  the  same  service  in  regard 
to  order ;  and  this  suitability  to  the  needs  of  modern  society  is 
a  strong  confirmation  of  the  philosophical  character  of  such  a 
combination. 

PRODUCED  BY  NATURAL  LAWS 

If  the  existence  of  sociological  laws  has  been  established  in 
the  more  difficult  and  uncertain  case  of  the  statical  condition, 
we  may  assume  that  they  will  not  be  questioned  in  the  dynamical 
province.  In  all  times  and  places  the  ordinary  course  of  even 
our  brief  individual  life  has  disclosed  certain  remarkable  modifi- 
cations which  have  occurred  in  various  ways  in  the  social  state  ; 
and  all  the  most  ancient  representations  of  human  life  bear 
unconscious  and  most  interesting  testimony  to  this,  apart  from 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      35 

all  systematic  estimate  of  the  fact.  Now  it  is  the  slow,  contin- 
uous accumulation  of  these  successive  changes  which  gradu- 
ally constitutes  the  social  movement  whose  steps  are  ordinarily 
marked  by  generations,  as  the  most  appreciable  elementary 
variations  are  wrought  by  the  constant  renewal  of  adults.  At 
a  time  when  the  average  rapidity  of  this  progression  seems  to 
all  eyes  to  be  remarkably  accelerated,  the  reality  of  the  move- 
ment cannot  be  disputed,  even  by  those  who  most  abhor  it. 
The  only  question  is  about  the  constant  subjection  of  these  great 
dynamical  phenomena  to  invariable  natural  laws,  —  a  proposition 
about  \vhich  there  is  no  question  to  any  one  who  takes  his  stand 
on  positive  philosophy.  It  is  easy,  however,  to  establish  from 
any  point  of  view  that  the  successive  modifications  of  society 
have  always  taken  place  in  a  determinate  order,  the  rational 
explanation  of  which  is  already  possible  in  so  many  cases  that 
we  may  confidently  hope  to  recognize  it  ultimately  in  all  the 
rest.  So  remarkable  is  the  steadiness  of  this  order,  moreover, 
that  it  exhibits  an  exact  parallelism  of  development  among  dis- 
tinct and  independent  populations,  as  we  shall  see  when  we  come 
to  the  historical  portion  of  this  volume.  Since,  then,  the  exist- 
ence of  the  social  movement  is  unquestionable,  on  the  one  hand, 
and,  on  the  other,  the  succession  of  social  states  is  never  arbi- 
trary, we  cannot  but  regard  this  continuous  phenomenon  as  sub- 
ject to  natural  laws  as  positive  as  those  which  govern  all  other 
phenomena,  though  more  complex.  There  is,  in  fact,  no  intel- 
lectual alternative,  and  thus  it  is  evident  that  it  is  on  the  ground 
of  social  science  that  the  great  conflict  must  soon  terminate 
which  has  gone  on  for  three  centuries  between  the  positive  and 
the  theologico-metaphysical  spirit.  Banished  forever  from  all 
other  classes  of  speculation,  in  principle  at  least,  the  old  philos- 
ophies now  prevail  in  social  science  alone ;  and  it  is  from  this 
domain  that  they  have  to  be  excluded,  by  the  conception  of  the 
social  movement  being  subject  to  invariable  natural  laws  instead 
of  to  any  will  whatever. 

Though  the  fundamental  laws  of  social  interconnection  are 
especially  verified  in  this  condition  of  movement,  and  though 
there  is  a  necessary  unity  in  this  phenomenon,  it  may  be  usefully 


36  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

applied,  for  preparatory  purposes,  to  the  separate  elementary 
aspects  of  human  existence,  —  physical,  moral,  intellectual,  and 
finally  political,  —  their  mutual  relation  being  kept  in  view. 
Now  in  whichever  of  these  ways  we  regard,  as  a  whole,  the 
movement  of  humanity  from  the  earliest  periods  till  now,  we 
shall  find  that  the  various  steps  are  connected  in  a  determinate 
order,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see  when  we  investigate  the  laws  of 
this  succession.  I  need  refer  here  only  to  the  intellectual  evolu- 
tion, which  is  the  most  distinct  and  unquestionable  of  all,  as  it 
has  been  the  least  impeded  and  most  advanced  of  any,  and  has 
therefore  been  usually  taken  for  guidance.  The  chief  part  of 
this  evolution,  and  that  which  has  most  influenced  the  general 
progression,  is  no  doubt  the  development  of  the  scientific  spirit, 
from  the  primitive  labors  of  such  philosophers  as  Thales  and 
Pythagoras  to  those  of  men  like  Lagrange  and  Bichat.  Now 
no  enlightened  man  can  doubt  that  in  this  long  succession  of 
efforts  and  discoveries  the  human  mind  has  pursued  a  determi- 
nate course,  the  exact  preparatory  knowledge  of  which  might 
have  allowed  a  cultivated  reason  to  foresee  the  progress  proper 
to  each  period.  Though  the  historical -considerations  cited  in 
my  former  volume  were  only  incidental,  any  one  may  recognize 
in  them  numerous  and  indisputable  examples  of  this  necessary 
succession,  more  complex  perhaps,  but  not  more  arbitrary,  than 
any  natural  law,  whether  in  regard  to  the  development  of  each 
separate  science  or  to  the  mutual  influence  of  the  different 
branches  of  natural  philosophy.  In  accordance  with  the  prin- 
ciples laid  down  at  the  beginning  of  this  work,  we  have  already 
seen  in  various  signal  instances  that  the  chief  progress  of  each 
period,  and  even  of  each  generation,  was  a  necessary  result  of 
the  immediately  preceding  state ;  so  that  the  men  of  genius,  to 
whom  such  progression  has  been  too  exclusively  attributed,  are 
essentially  only  the  proper  organs  of  a  predetermined  movement, 
which  would  in  their  absence  have  found  other  issues.  We 
find  a  verification  of  this  in  history,  which  shows  that  various 
eminent  men  were  ready  to  make  the  same  great  discovery  at  the 
same  time,  while  the  discovery  required  only  one  organ.  All  the 
parts  of  the  human  evolution  admit  of  analogous  observations, 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      37 

as  we  shall  presently  see,  though  they  are  more  complex  and 
less  obvious  than  that  which  I  have  just  cited.  The  natural  pro- 
gression of  the  arts  of  life  is  abundantly  evident ;  and  in  our 
direct  study  of  social  dynamics  we  shall  find  an  explanation  of 
the  apparent  exception  of  the  fine  arts,  which  will  be  found  to 
oppose  no  contradiction  to  the  general  course  of  human  progres- 
sion. As  to  that  part  of  the  movement  which  appears  at  present 
to  be  least  reducible  to  natural  laws,  —  the  political  movement 
(still  supposed  to  be  governed  by  wills  of  adequate  power),  —  it 
is  as  clear  as  in  any  other  case  that  political  systems  have 
exhibited  an  historical  succession,  according  to  a  traceable  filia- 
tion, in  a  determinate  order,  which  I  am  prepared  to  show  to  be 
even  more  inevitable  than  that  of  the  different  states  of  human 
intelligence. 

The  interconnection  which  we  have  examined  and  established 
in  a  statical  view  may  aid  us  in  developing  the  conception  of  the 
existence  of  positive  laws  in  social  dynamics.  Unless  the  move- 
ment was  determined  by  those  laws  it  would  occasion  the  entire 
destruction  of  the  social  system.  Now,  that  interconnection  sim- 
plifies and  strengthens  the  preparatory  indications  of  dynamic 
order ;  for  when  it  has  once  been  shown  in  any  relation  we  are 
authorized  to  extend  it  to  all  others,  and  this  unites  all  the  par- 
tial proofs  that  we  can  successively  obtain  of  the  reality  of  this 
scientific  conception.  In  the  choice  and  the  application  of  these 
verifications  we  must  remember  that  the  laws  of  social  dynamics 
are  most  recognizable  when  they  relate  to  the  largest  societies, 
in  which  secondary  disturbances  have  the  smallest  effect.  Again, 
these  fundamental  laws  become  the  more  irresistible,  and  there- 
fore the  more  appreciable,  in  proportion  to  the  advancement  of 
the  civilization  upon  which  they  operate,  because  the  social  move- 
ment becomes  more  distinct  and  certain  with  every  conquest 
over  accidental  influences.  As  for  the  philosophical  coordina- 
tion of  these  preparatory  evidences,  the  combination  of  which 
is  important  to  science,  it  is  clear  that  the  social  evolution  must 
be  more  inevitably  subject  to  natural  laws,  the  more  compound 
are  the  phenomena,  and  the  less  perceptible,  therefore,  the  irregu- 
larities which  arise  from  individual  influences.  This  shows  how 


38  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

inconsistent  it  is,  for  instance,  to  suppose  the  scientific  move- 
ment to  be  subject  to  positive  laws,  while  the  political  movement 
is  regarded  as  arbitrary ;  for  the  latter,  being  more  composite, 
must  overrule  individual  disturbances,  and  be  therefore  more  evi- 
dently predetermined  than  the  former,  in  which  individual  genius 
must  have  more  power.  Any  paradoxical  appearance  which  this 
statement  may  exhibit  will  disappear  in  the  course  of  further 
examination. 

If  I  confined  myself  strictly  to  a  scientific  view,  I  might  satisfy 
myself  with  proving  the  fact  of  social  progression,  without  taking 
any  notice  of  the  question  of  human  perfectibility ;  but  so  much 
time  and  effort  are  wasted  in  groundless  speculation  on  that 
interesting  question,  argued  as  it  is  on  the  supposition  that  politi- 
cal events  are  arbitrarily  determined,  that  it  may  be  as  well  to 
notice  it  in  passing,  —  and  the  more  because  it  may  serve  as  a 
natural  transition  to  the  estimate  of  the  limits  of  political  action. 

NOTION  OF  HUMAN  PERFECTIBILITY 

We  have  nothing  to  do  here  with  the  metaphysical  contro- 
versy about  the  absolute  happiness  of  man  at  different  stages 
of  civilization.  As  the  happiness  of  every  man  depends  on  the 
harmony  between  the  development  of  his  various  faculties  and 
the  entire  system  of  the  circumstances  which  govern  his  life, 
and  as,  on  the  other  hand,  this  equilibrium  always  establishes 
itself  spontaneously  to  a  certain  extent,  it  is  impossible  to  com- 
pare in  a  positive  way,  either  by  sentiment  or  reasoning,  the 
individual  welfare  which  belongs  to  social  situations  that  can 
never  be  brought-  into  direct  comparison  ;  and  therefore  the 
question  of  the  happiness  of  different  animal  organisms,  or  of 
their  two  sexes,  is  merely  impracticable  and  unintelligible.  The 
only  question,  therefore,  is  of  the  effect  of  the  social  evolution, 
which  is  so  undeniable  that  there  is  no  reasoning  with  any  one 
who  does  not  admit  it  as  the  basis  of  the  inquiry.  The  only 
ground  of  discussion  is  whether  development  and  improvement, 
—  the  theoretical  and  the  practical  aspect,  - —  are  one  ;  whether 
the  development  is  necessarily  accompanied  by  a  corresponding 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      39 

amelioration,  or  progress,  properly  so  called.  To  me  it  appears 
that  the  amelioration  is  as  unquestionable  as  the  development 
from  which  it  proceeds,  provided  we  regard  it  as  subject,  like 
the  development  itself,  to  limits,  general  and  special,  which  sci- 
ence will  be  found  to  prescribe.  The  chimerical  notion  of  unlim- 
ited perfectibility  is  thus  at  once  excluded.  Taking  the  human 
race  as  a  whole,  and  not  any  one  people,  it  appears  that  human 
development  brings  after  it,  in  two  ways,  an  ever-growing  amel- 
ioration, first  in  the  radical  condition  of  man,  which  no  one  dis- 
putes, and  next  in  his  corresponding  faculties,  which  is  a  view 
much  less  attended  to.  There  is  no  need  to  dwell  upon  the 
improvement  in  the  conditions  of  human  existence,  both  by 
the  increasing  action  of  man  on  his  environment  through  the 
advancement  of  the  sciences  and  arts,  and  by  the  constant  amel- 
ioration of  his  customs  and  manners,  and  again  by  the  gradual 
improvement  in  social  organization.  We  shall  presently  see  that 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  which  are  charged  with  political  retrogres- 
sion, the  progress  was  more  political  than  any  other.  One  fact 
is  enough  to  silence  sophistical  declamation  on  this  subject,  — 
the  continuous  increase  of  population  all  over  the  globe,  as  a 
consequence  of  civilization,  while  the  wants  of  individuals  are, 
as  a  whole,  better  satisfied  at  the  same  time.  The  tendency 
to  improvement  must  be  highly  spontaneous  and  irresistible  to 
have  persevered  notwithstanding  the  enormous  faults, — political 
faults  especially,  —  which  have  at  all  times  absorbed  or  neutral- 
ized the  greater  part  of  our  social  forces.  Even  throughout  the 
revolutionary  period,  in  spite  of  the  marked  discordance  between 
the  political  system  and  the  general  state  of  civilization,  the 
improvement  has  proceeded  not  only  in  physical  and  intel- 
lectual but  also  in  moral  respects,  though  the  transient  disor- 
ganization could  not  but  disturb  the  natural  evolution.  As  for 
the  other  aspect  of  the  question,  —  the  gradual  and  slow  improve- 
ment of  human  nature  within  narrow  limits,  —  it  seems  to  me 
impossible  to  reject  altogether  the  principle  proposed  (with  great 
exaggeration,  however)  by  Lamarck,  of  the  necessary  influence 
of  a  homogeneous  and  continuous  exercise  in  producing,  in  every 
animal  organism  and  especially  in  man,  an  organic  improvement 


40  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

susceptible  of  being  established  in  the  race,  after  a  sufficient 
persistence.  If  we  take  the  best  marked  case,  —  that  of  intel- 
lectual development,  —  it  seems  to  be  unquestionable  that  there 
is  a  superior  aptitude  for  mental  combinations,  independent  of 
all  culture,  among  highly  civilized  people ;  or,  what  comes  to 
the  same  thing,  an  inferior  aptitude  among  nations  that  are 
less  advanced,  —  the  average  intellect  of  the  members  of  those 
societies  being  taken  for  observation.  The  intellectual  faculties 
are,  it  is  true,  more  modified  than  the  others  by  the  social  evo- 
lution ;  but  then  they  have  the  smallest  relative  effect  in  the 
individual  human  constitution,  so  that  we  are  authorized  to 
infer  from  their  amelioration  a  proportionate  improvement  in 
aptitudes  that  are  more  marked  and  equally  exercised.  In  regard 
to  morals  particularly,  I  think  it  indisputable  that  the  gradual 
development  of  humanity  favors  a  growing  preponderance  of 
the  noblest  tendencies  of  our  nature,  as  I  hope  to  prove  fur- 
ther on.  The  lower  instincts  continue  to  manifest  themselves 
in  modified  action,  but  their  less  sustained  and  more  repressed 
exercise  must  tend  to  debilitate  them  by  degrees,  and  their 
increasing  regulation  certainly  brings  them  into  involuntary  con- 
currence in  the  maintenance  of  a  good  social  economy,  and 
especially  in  the  case  of  the  least  marked  organisms,  which  con- 
stitute a  vast  majority.  These  two  aspects  of  social  evolution, 
then,  —  the  development  which  brings  after  it  the  improvement, 
—  we  may  consider  to  be  admitted  as  facts. 

Adhering  to  our  relative  in  opposition  to  the  absolute  view, 
we  must  conclude  the  social  state,  regarded  as  a  whole,  to  have 
been  as  perfect  in  each  period  as  the  coexisting  condition  of 
humanity  and  of  its  environment  would  allow.  Without  this 
view,  history  would  be  incomprehensible ;  and  the  relative  view 
is  as  indispensable  in  regard  to  progress  as,  in  considering  social 
statics,  we  saw  it  to  be  in  regard  to  order.  If,  in  a  statical 
view,  the  various  social  elements  cannot  but  maintain  a  sponta- 
neous harmony,  which  is  the  first  principle  of  order,  neither 
can  any  of  them  help  being  as  advanced  at  any  period  as  the 
whole  system  of  influences  permits.  In  either  case  the  harmony 
and  the  movement  are  the  result  of  invariable  natural  laws  which 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD     41 

produce  all  phenomena  whatever,  and  are  more  obscure  in  social 
science  merely  on  account  of  the  greater  complexity  of  the 
phenomena  concerned. 


LIMITS  OF  POLITICAL  ACTION 

And  now  occurs,  as  the  last  aspect  of  social  dynamics,  the 
question  of  the  general  limits  of  political  action.  No  enlightened 
man  can  be  blind  to  the  necessary  existence  of  such  limits,  which 
can  be  ignored  only  on  the  old  theological  supposition  of  the 
legislator  being  merely  the  organ  of  a  direct  and  continuous 
providence,  which  admits  of  no  limits.  We  need  not  stop  to 
confute  that  hypothesis,  which  has  no  existence  but  in  virtue 
of  ancient  habits  of  thought.  In  any  case  human  action  is  very 
limited  in  spite  of  all  aids  from  concurrence  and  ingenious 
methods ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  perceive  why  social  action  should 
be  exempt  from  this  restriction,  which  is  an  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  the  existence  of  natural  laws.  Through  all  the  self- 
assertions  of  human  pride  every  statesman  of  experience  knows 
well  the  reality  of  the  bounds  prescribed  to  political  action  by 
the  aggregate  of  social  influences,  to  which  he  must  attribute 
the  failure  of  the  greater  number  of  the  projects  which  he  had 
secretly  cherished  ;  and  perhaps  the  conviction  is  most  thorough, 
while  most  carefully  hidden,  in  the  mind  of  the  most  powerful 
of  statesmen,  because  his  inability  to  struggle  against  natural 
laws  must  be  decisive  in  proportion  to  his  implication  with  them. 
Seeing  that  social  science  would  be  impossible  in  the  absence  of 
this  principle,  we  need  not  dwell  further  upon  it,  but  may  pro- 
ceed to  ascertain  the  fitness  of  the  new  political  philosophy  to 
determine,  with  all  the  precision  that  the  subject  admits,  what 
is  the  nature  of  these  limits,  general  or  special,  permanent  or 
temporary. 

Two  questions  are  concerned  here  :  first,  in  what  way  the 
course  of  human  development  may  be  affected  by  the  aggregate 
of  causes  of  variation  which  may  be  applied  to  it ;  and  next, 
what  share  the  voluntary  and  calculated  action  of  our  political 
combinations  may  have  among  these  modifying  influences.  The 


42  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL   PROGRESS 

first  question  is  by  far  the  most  important,  both  because  it  is  a 
general  principle,  which  the  second  is  not,  and  because  it  is  fully 
accessible,  which  again  the  second  is  not. 


SOCIAL   PHENOMENA   MODIFIABLE 

We  must  observe,  in  the  first  place,  that  social  phenomena 
may,  from  their  complexity,  be  more  easily  modified  than  any 
others,  according  to  the  law  which  was  established  to  that  effect 
in  my  first  volume.  Thus,  the  limits  of  variation  are  wider  in 
regard  to  sociological  than  to  any  other  laws.  If,  then,  human 
intervention  holds  the  same  proportionate  rank  among  modifying 
influences  as  it  is  natural  at  first  to  suppose,  its  influence  must 
be  more  considerable  in  the  first  case  than  in  any  other,  all 
appearances  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  This  is  the  first 
scientific  foundation  of  all  rational  hopes  of  a  systematic  refor- 
mation of  humanity ;  and  on  this  ground  illusions  of  this  sort 
certainly  appear  more  excusable  than  on  any  other  subject.  But 
though  modifications  from  all  causes  are  greater  in  the  case  of 
political  than  of  simpler  phenomena,  still  they  can  never  be  more 
than  modifications ;  that  is,  they  will  always  be  in  subjection  to 
those  fundamental  laws,  whether  statical  or  dynamical,  which 
regulate  the  harmony  of  the  social  elements  and  the  filiation  of 
their  successive  variations.  There  is  no  disturbing  influence, 
exterior  or  human,  which  can  make  incompatible  elements  co- 
exist in  the  political  system,  or  change  in  any  way  the  natural 
laws  of  the  development  of  humanity.  The  inevitable  gradual 
preponderance  of  continuous  influences,  however  imperceptible 
their  power  may  be  at  first,  is  now  admitted  with  regard  to  all 
natural  phenomena ;  and  it  must  be  applied  to  social  phenomena 
whenever  the  same  method  of  philosophizing  is  extended,  to  them. 
What,  then,  are  the  modifications  of  which  the  social  organism 
and  the  social  life  are  susceptible,  if  nothing  can  alter  the  laws 
either  of  harmony  or  of  succession  ?  The  answer  is  that  modi- 
fications act  upon  the  intensity  and  secondary  operation  of  phe- 
nomena, but  without  affecting  their  nature  or  filiation.  To 
suppose  that  they  could,  would  be  to  exalt  the  disturbing  above 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      43 

the  fundamental  cause,  and  would  destroy  the  whole  economy  of 
laws.  In  the  political  system  this  principle  of  positive  philosophy 
shows  that,  in  a  statical  view,  any  possible  variations  can  affect 
only  the  intensity  of  the  different  tendencies  belonging  to  each 
social  situation,  without  in  any  way  hindering  or  producing,  or, 
in  a  word,  changing  the  nature  of  those  tendencies  ;  and  in  the 
same  way,  in  a  dynamical  view,  the  progress  of  the  race  must  be 
considered  susceptible  of  modification  only  with  regard  to  its 
speed,  and  without  any  reversal  in  the  order  of  development,  or 
any  interval  of  any  importance  being  overleaped.  These  varia- 
tions are  analogous  to  those  in  the  animal  organism,  with  the 
one  difference  that  in  sociology  they  are  more  complex ;  and,  as 
we  saw  that  the  limits  of  variation  remain  to  be  established  in 
biology,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  sociology  should  be  more 
advanced.  But  all  we  want  here  is  to  obtain  a  notion  of  the 
general  spirit  of  the  law  in  regard  both  to  social  statics  and 
dynamics  ;  and  looking  at  it  from  both  points  of  view,  it  seems 
to  me  impossible  to  question  its  truth.  In  the  intellectual  order 
of  phenomena,  for  instance,  there  is  no  accidental  influence  nor 
any  individual  superiority  which  can  transfer  to  one  period  the 
discoveries  reserved  for  a  subsequent  age,  in  the  natural  course 
of  the  human  mind  ;  nor  can  there  be  the  reverse  case  of  post- 
ponement. The  history  of  the  sciences  settles  the  question  of 
the  close  dependence  of  even  the  most  eminent  individual  genius 
on  the  contemporary  state  of  the  human  mind  ;  and  this  is  above 
all  remarkable  in  regard  to  the  improvement  of  methods  of  inves- 
tigation, either  in  the  way  of  reasoning  or  experiment.  The  same 
thing  happens  in  regard  to  the  arts  ;  and  especially  in  whatever 
depends  on  mechanical  means  in  substitution  for  human  action. 
And  there  is  not,  in  reality,  any  more  room  for  doubt  in  the  case 
of  moral  development,  the  character  of  which  is  certainly  deter- 
mined in  each  period  by  the  corresponding  state  of  the  social  evo- 
lution, whatever  may  be  the  modifications  caused  by  education  or 
individual  organization.  Each  of  the  leading  modes  of  social  exist- 
ence determines  for  itself  a  certain  system  of  morals  and  manners, 
the  common  aspect  of  which  is  easily  recognized  in  all  individuals, 
in  the  midst  of  their  characteristic  differences  ;  for  instance,  there 


44 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


is  a  state  of  human  life  in  which  the  best  individual  natures  con- 
tract a  habit  of  ferocity,  from  which  very  inferior  natures  easily 
emancipate  themselves  in  a  better  state  of  society.  The  case 
is  the  same  in  a  political  view,  as  our  historical  analysis  will 
hereafter  show.  And  in  fact,  if  we  were  to  review  all  the  facts 
and  reflections  which  establish  the  existence  of  the  limits  of 
variation,  whose  principle  I  have  just  laid  down,  we  should  find 
ourselves  reproducing  in  succession  all  the  proofs  of  the  subjec- 
tion of  social  phenomena  to  invariable  laws  ;  because  the  prin- 
ciple is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  strict  application  of  the 
philosophical  conception. 

ORDER  OF   MODIFYING   INFLUENCES 

We  cannot  enlarge  upon  the  second  head,  —  that  is,  the  clas- 
sification of  modifying  influences  according  to  their  respective 
importance.  If  such  a  classification  is  not  yet  established  in  biol- 
ogy, it  would  be  premature  indeed  to  attempt  it  in  social  science. 
Thus,  if  the  three  chief  causes  of  social  variation  appear  to  me  to 
result  first,  from  race  ;  secondly,  from  climate  ;  thirdly,  from  polit- 
ical action  in  its  whole  scientific  extent,  it  would  answer  none  of 
our  present  purposes  to  inquire  here  whether  this  or  some  other 
is  the  real  order  of  their  importance.  The  political  influences 
are  the  only  ones  really  open  to  our  intervention ;  and  to  that 
head  general  attention  must  be  directed,  though  with  great  care 
to  avoid  the  conclusion  that  that  class  of  influences  must  be  the 
most  important  because  it  is  the  most  immediately  interesting 
to  us.  It  is  owing  to  such  an  illusion  as  this  that  observers  who 
believe  themselves  emancipated  from  old  prejudices  cannot  obtain 
sociological  knowledge,  because  they  enormously  exaggerate  the 
power  of  political  action.  Because  political  operations,  temporal 
or  spiritual,  can  have  no  social  efficacy  but  in  as  far  as  they  are 
in  accordance  with  the  corresponding  tendencies  of  the  human 
mind,  they  are  supposed  to  have  produced  what  is  in  reality 
occasioned  by  a  spontaneous  evolution,  which  is  less  conspicu- 
ous and  easily  overlooked.  Such  a  mistake  proceeds  in  neglect 
of  numerous  and  marked  cases  in  history,  in  which  the  most 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      45 

prodigious  political  authority  has  left  no  lasting  traces  of  its  well- 
sustained  development,  because  it  moved  in  a  contrary  direction 
to  modern  civilization, — as  in  the  instances  of  Julian,  of  Philip  II, 
of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  etc.  The  inverse  cases,  unhappily  too  few, 
are  still  more  decisive, — those  cases  in  which  political  action,  sus- 
tained by  an  equally  powerful  authority,  has  nevertheless  failed 
in  the  pursuit  of  ameliorations  that  were  premature,  though  in 
accordance  with  the  social  movement  of  the  time.  Intellectual 
history,  as  well  as  political,  furnishes  examples  of  this  kind  in 
abundance.  It  has  been  sensibly  remarked  by  Fergusson  that 
even  the  action  of  one  nation  upon  another,  whether  by  conquest 
or  otherwise,  though  the  most  intense  of  all  social  forces,  can 
effect  merely  such  modifications  as  are  in  accordance  with  its 
existing  tendencies  ;  so  that,  in  fact,  the  action  merely  acceler- 
ates or  extends  a  development  which  would  have  taken  place 
without  it.  In  politics,  as  in  science,  opportuneness  is  always  the 
main  condition  of  all  great  and  durable  influence,  whatever  may 
be  the  personal  value  of  the  superior  man  to  whom  the  multitude 
attribute  social  action  of  which  he  is  merely  the  fortunate  organ. 
The  power  of  the  individual  over  the  race  is  subject  to  these 
general  limits,  even  when  the  effects,  for  good  or  for  evil,  are  as 
easy  as  possible  to  produce.  In  revolutionary  times,  for  instance, 
those  who  are  proud  of  having  aroused  anarchical  passions  in 
their  contemporaries  do  not  see  that  their  miserable  triumph  is 
due  to  a  spontaneous  disposition,  determined  by  the  aggregate 
of  the  corresponding  social  state,  which  has  produced  a  provi- 
sional and  partial  relaxation  of  the  general  harmony.  As  for  the 
rest,  it  being  ascertained  that  there  are  limits  of  variation  among 
social  phenomena,  and  modifications  dependent  on  systematic 
political  action,  and  as  the  scientific  principle  which  is  to  describe 
such  modifications  is  now  known,  the  influence  and  scope  of  that 
principle  must  be  determined  in  each  case  by  the  direct  develop- 
ment of  social  science  applied  to  the  appreciation  of  the  corre- 
sponding state  of  circumstances.  It  is  by  such  estimates,  empir- 
ically attempted,  that  men  of  genius  have  been  guided  in  all  great 
and  profound  action  upon  humanity  in  any  way  whatever ;  and 
it  is  only  thus  that  they  have  been  able  to  rectify  in  a  rough 


46  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

way  the  illusory  suggestions  of  the  irrational  doctrines  in  which 
they  were  educated.  Everywhere,  as  I  have  so  often  said,  fore- 
sight is  the  true  source  of  action. 

The  inaccurate  intellectual  habits  which  as  yet  prevail  in  polit- 
ical philosophy  may  induce  an  apprehension  that,  according  to 
such  considerations  as  those  just  presented,  the  new  science  of 
social  physics  may  reduce  us  to  mere  observation  of  human 
events,  excluding  all  continuous  intervention.  It  is,  however, 
certain  that,  while  dissipating  all  ambitious  illusions  about  the 
indefinite  action  of  man  on  civilization,  the  principle  of  rational 
limits  to  political  action  establishes,  in  the  most  exact  and  unques- 
tionable manner,  the  true  point  of  contact  between  social  theory 
and  practice.  It  is  by  this  principle  only  that  political  art  can 
assume  a  systematic  character,  by  its  release  from  arbitrary  prin- 
ciples mingled  with  empirical  notions.  It  is  thus  only  that  politi- 
cal art  can.  pass  upwards  as  medical  art  has  done,  the  two  cases 
being  strongly  analogous.  As  political  intervention  can  have  no 
efficacy  unless  it  rests  on  corresponding  tendencies  of  the  political 
organism  or  life,  so  as  to  aid  its  spontaneous  development,  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  understand  the  natural  laws  of  harmony 
and  succession  which  determine,  in  every  period  and  under  every 
social  aspect,  what  the  human  evolution  is  prepared  to  produce, 
pointing  out  at  the  same  time  the  chief  obstacles  which  may  be 
got  rid  of.  It  would  be  exaggerating  the  scope  of  such  an  art  to 
suppose  it  capable  of  obviating  in  all  cases  the  violent  disturb- 
ances which  are  occasioned  by  impediments  to  the  natural  evolu- 
tion. In  the  highly  complex  social  organism  maladies  and  crises 
are  necessarily  even  more  inevitable  than  in  the  individual  organ- 
ism. But  though  science  is  powerless  for  the  moment  amidst 
wild  disorder  and  extravagance,  it  may  palliate  and  abridge  the 
crises  by  understanding  their  character  and  foreseeing  their  issue, 
and  by  more  or  less  intervention,  where  any  is  possible.  Here, 
as  in  other  cases,  and  more  than  in  other  cases,  the  office  of 
science  is  not  to  govern  but  to  modify  phenomena, — and  to  do 
this  it  is  necessary  to  understand  their  laws. 

Thus,  then,  we  see  what  is  the  function  of  social  science. 
Without  extolling  or  condemning  political  facts,  science  regards 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      47 

them  as  subjects  of  observation ;  it  contemplates  each  phenome- 
non in  its  harmony  with  coexisting  phenomena  and  in  its  con- 
nection with  the  foregoing  and  the  following  state  of  human 
development ;  it  endeavors  to  discover,  from  both  points  of  view, 
the  general  relations  which  connect  all  social  phenomena ;  and 
each  of  them  is  explained,  in  the  scientific  sense  of  the  word, 
when  it  has  been  connected  with  the  whole  of  the  existing  situ- 
ation and  the  whole  of  the  preceding  movement.  Favoring  the 
social  sentiment  in  the  highest  degree,  this  science  fulfills  the 
famous  suggestion  of  Pascal  by  representing  the  whole  human 
race,  past,  present,  and  future,  as  constituting  a  vast  and  eter- 
nal social  unit  whose  different  organs,  individual  and  national, 
concur,  in  their  various  modes  and  degrees,  in  the  evolution  of 
humanity.  Leading  us  on,  like  every  other  science,  with  as  much 
exactness  as  the  extreme  complexity  of  its  phenomena  allows,  to 
a  systematic  prevision  of  the  events  which  must  result  from 
either  a  given  situation  or  a  given  aggregate  of  antecedents, 
political  science  enlightens  political  art  not  only  in  regard  to  the 
tendencies  which  should  be  aided  but  also  as  to  the  chief  means 
that  should  be  employed,  so  as  to  avoid  all  useless  or  ephemeral 
and  therefore  dangerous  action  ;  in  short,  all  waste  of  any  kind 
of  social  force. 

MEANS  OF   INVESTIGATION 

This  examination  of  the  general  spirit  of  political  philosophy 
has  been  much  more  difficult  than  the  same  process  in  regard  to 
any  established  science.  The  next  step,  now  that  this  is  accom- 
plished, is  to  examine,  according  to  my  usual  method,  the  means  of 
investigation  proper  to  social  science.  In  virtue  of  a  law  before 
recognized,  we  may  expect  to  find  in  sociology  a  more  varied 
and  developed  system  of  resources  than  in  any  other  science,  in 
proportion  to  the  complexity  of  the  phenomena,  while  yet  this 
extension  of  means  does  not  compensate  for  the  increased  imper- 
fection arising  from  the  intricacy.  The  extension  of  the  means 
is  also  more  difficult  to  verify  than  in  any  prior  case,  from  the 
novelty  of  the  subject ;  and  I  can  scarcely  hope  that  such  a 
sketch  as  I  must  present  here  will  command  such  confidence  as 


48  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

will  arise  when  a  complete  survey  of  the  science  shall  have 
confirmed  what  I  now  offer. 

As  social  physics  assumes  a  place  in  the  hierarchy  of  sciences 
after  all  the  rest,  and  therefore  dependent  on  them,  its  means  of 
investigation  must  be  of  two  kinds,  —  those  which  are  peculiar  to 
itself,  and  which  may  be  called  direct,  and  those  which  arise  from 
the  connection  of  sociology  with  the  other  sciences ;  and  these 
last,  though  indirect,  are  as  indispensable  as  the  first.  I  shall 
review,  first,  the  direct  resources  of  the  science. 

Here,  as  in  all  other  cases,  there  are  three  methods  of  pro- 
ceeding, —  by  observation,  experiment,  and  comparison. 

OBSERVATION 

Very  imperfect  and  even  vicious  notions  prevail  at  present  as 
to  what  observation  can  be  and  can  effect  in  social  science.  The 
chaotic  state  of  doctrine  of  the  last  century  has  extended  to 
method,  and  amidst  our  intellectual  disorganization  difficulties 
have  been  magnified  ;  precautionary  methods,  experimental  and 
rational,  have  been  broken  up  ;  and  even  the  possibility  of  obtain- 
ing social  knowledge  by  observation  has  been  dogmatically  denied ; 
but  if  the  sophisms  put  forth  on  this  subject  were  true,  they 
would  destroy  the  certainty  not  only  of  social  science  but  of  all 
the  simpler  and  more  perfect  sciences  that  have  gone  before.  The 
ground  of  doubt  assigned  is  the  uncertainty  of  human  testimony ; 
but  all  the  sciences,  up  to  the  most  simple,  require  proofs  of 
testimony,  —  that  is,  in  the  elaboration  of  the  most  positive  theo- 
ries we  have  to  admit  observations  which  could  not  be  directly 
made,  nor  even  repeated,  by  those  who  use  them,  and  the  reality 
of  which  rests  on  the  only  faithful  testimony  of  the  original 
investigators,  there  being  nothing  in  this  to  prevent  the  use 
of  such  proofs  in  concurrence  with  immediate  observations.  In 
astronomy  such  a  method  is  obviously  necessary ;  it  is  equally 
though  less  obviously  necessary  even  in  mathematics,  and,  of 
course,  much  more  evidently  so  in  the  case  of  the  more  complex 
sciences.  How  could  any  science  emerge  from  the  nascent  state, 
—  how  could  there  be  any  organization  of  intellectual  labor, 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      49 

even  if  research  were  restricted  to  the  utmost,  if  every  one 
rejected  all  observations  but  his  own  ?  The  stoutest  advocates 
of  historical  skepticism  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  advocate  this.  It 
is  only  in  the  case  of  social  phenomena  that  the  paradox  is  pro- 
posed ;  and  it  is  made  use  of  there  because  it  is.  one  of  the 
weapons  of  the  philosophical  arsenal  which  the  revolutionary 
metaphysical  doctrine  constructed  for  the  intellectual  overthrow 
of  the  ancient  political  system.  The  next  great  hindrance  to  the 
use  of  observation  is  the  empiricism  which  is  introduced  into  it  by 
those  who,  in  the  name  of  impartiality,  would  interdict  the  use  of 
any  theory  whatever.  No  logical  dogma  could  be  more  thoroughly 
irreconcilable  with  the  spirit  of  positive  philosophy,  or  with  its 
special  character  in  regard  to  the  study  of  social  phenomena,  than 
this.  No  real  observation  of  any  kind  of  phenomena  is  possible, 
except  in  as  far  as  it  is  first  directed  and  finally  interpreted  by 
some  theory ;  and  it  was  this  logical  need  which,  in  the  infancy 
of  human  reason,  occasioned  the  rise  of  theological  philosophy,  as 
we  shall  see  in  the  course  of  our  historical  survey.  The  positive 
philosophy  does  not  dissolve  this  obligation,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
extends  and  fulfills  it  more  and  more  the  further  the  relations 
of  phenomena  are  multiplied  and  perfected  by  it.  Hence  it  is 
clear  that,  scientifically  speaking,  all  isolated,  empirical  observa- 
tion is  idle,  and  even  radically  uncertain  ;  that  science  can  use 
only  those  observations  which  are  connected,  at  least  hypothet- 
ically  with  some  law ;  that  it  is  such  a  connection  which  makes 
the  chief  difference  between  scientific  and  popular  observation, 
embracing  the  same  facts  but  contemplating  them  from  differ- 
ent points  of  view ;  and  that  observations  empirically  conducted 
can  at  most  supply  provisional  materials,  which  must  usually 
undergo  an  ulterior  revision.  The  rational  method  of  observation 
becomes  more  necessary  in  proportion  to  the  complexity  of  the 
phenomena,  amidst  which  the  observer  would  not  know  what  he 
ought  to  look  at  in  the  facts  before  his  eyes,  but  for  the  guidance 
of  a  preparatory  theory ;  and  thus  it  is  that  by  the  connection  of 
foregoing  facts  we  learn  to  see  the  facts  that  follow.  This  is 
undisputed  with  regard  to  astronomical,  physical,  and  chemical 
research,  and  in  every  branch  of  biological  study  in  which  good 


50  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

observation  of  its  highly  complex  phenomena  is  still  very  rare, 
precisely  because  its  positive  theories  are  very  imperfect.  Carry- 
ing on  the  analogy,  it  is  evident  that  in  the  corresponding  divi- 
sions, statical  and  dynamical,  of  social  science  there  is  more  need 
than  anywhere  else  of  theories  which  shall  scientifically  connect 
the  facts  that  are  happening  with  those  that  have  happened  ; 
and  the  more  we  reflect,  the  more  distinctly  we  shall  see  that  in 
proportion  as  known  facts  are  mutually  connected  we  shall  be  bet- 
ter able  not  only  to  estimate  but  to  perceive  those  which  are 
yet  unexplored.  I  am  not  blind  to  the  vast  difficulty  which  this 
requisition  imposes  on  the  institution  of  positive  sociology,  — 
obliging  us  to  create  at  once,  so  to  speak,  observations  and  laws, 
placing  us,  on  account  of  their  indispensable  connection,  in  a  sort 
of  vicious  circle  from  which  we  can  issue  only  by  employing  in 
the  first  instance  materials  which  are  badly  elaborated  and  doc- 
trines which  are  ill-conceived.  How  I  may  succeed  in  a  task  so 
difficult  and  delicate  we  shall  see  at  its  close  ;  but,  however  that 
may  be,  it  is  clear  that  it  is  the  absence  of  any  positive  theory 
which  at  present  renders  social  observations  so  vague  and  inco- 
herent. There  can  never  be  any  lack  of  facts ;  for  in  this  case, 
even  more  than  in  others,  it  is  the  commonest  sort  of  facts  that 
are  most  important,  whatever  the  collectors  of  secret  anecdotes 
may  think ;  but,  though  we  are  steeped  to  the  lips  in  them,  we 
can  make  no  use  of  them,  nor  even  be  aware  of  them,  for  want 
of  speculative  guidance  in  examining  them.  The  statical  obser- 
vation of  a  crowd  of  phenomena  cannot  take  place  without  some 
notion,  however  elementary,  of  the  laws  of  social  interconnection  ; 
and  dynamical  facts  could  have  no  fixed  direction  if  they  were 
not  attached,  at  least  by  a  provisional  hypothesis,  to  the  laws 
of  social  development.  The  positive  philosophy  is  very  far  from 
discouraging  historical  or  any  other  erudition ;  but  the  precious 
night  watchings,  now  so  lost  in  the  laborious  acquisition  of  a 
conscientious  but  barren  learning,  may  be  made  available  by  it 
for  the  constitution  of  true  social  science  and  the  increased 
honor  of  the  earnest  minds  that  are  devoted  to  it.  The  new 
philosophy  will  supply  fresh  and  nobler  subjects,  unhoped-for 
insight,  a  loftier  aim,  and  therefore  a  higher  scientific  dignity. 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      51 

It  will  discard  none  but  aimless  labors,  without  principle  and 
without  character,  as  in  physics  there  is  no  room  for  compila- 
tions of  empirical  observations  ;  and  at  the  same  time  philosophy 
will  render  justice  to  the  zeal  of  students  of  a  past  generation, 
who,  destitute  of  the  favorable  guidance  which  we  of  this  day 
enjoy,  followed  up  their  laborious  historical  researches  with  an 
instinctive  perseverance,  and  in  spite  of  the  superficial  disdain 
of  the  philosophers  of  the  time.  No  doubt  the  same  danger 
attends  research  here  as  elsewhere,  —  the  danger  that,  from  the 
continuous  use  of  scientific  theories,  the  observer  may  sometimes 
pervert  facts  by  erroneously  supposing  them  to  verify  some  ill- 
grounded  speculative  prejudices  of  his  own.  But  we  have  the 
same  guard  here  as  elsewhere,  —  in  the  further  extension  of  the 
science ;  and  the  case  would  not  be  improved  by  a  recurrence 
to  empirical  methods,  which  would  be  merely  leaving  theories 
that  may  be  misapplied,  but  can  always  be  rectified,  for  imaginary 
notions  which  cannot  be  substantiated  at  all.  Our  feeble  reason 
may  often  fail  in  the  application  of  positive  theories,  but  at  least 
these  transfer  us  from  the  domain  of  imagination  to  that  of  reality, 
and  expose  us  infinitely  less  than  any  other  kind  of  doctrine  to 
the  danger  of  seeing  in  facts  that  which  is  not. 

It  is  now  clear  that  social  science  requires,  more  than  any 
other,  the  subordination  of  observation  to  the  statical  and  dynam- 
ical laws  of  phenomena.  No  social  fact  can  have  any  scien- 
tific meaning  till  it  is  connected  with  some  other  social  fact, 
without  which  connection  it  remains  a  mere  anecdote,  involving 
no  rational  utility.  This  condition  so  far  increases  the  immediate 
difficulty  that  good  observers  will  be  rare  at  first,  though  more 
abundant  than  ever  as  the  science  expands  ;  and  here  we  meet 
with  another  confirmation  of  what  I  said  at  the  outset  of  this 
volume,  —  that  the  formation  of  social  theories  should  be  con- 
fided only  to  the  best  organized  minds,  prepared  by  the  most 
rational  training.  Explored  by  such  minds,  according  to  rational 
views  of  coexistence  and  succession,  social  phenomena  no  doubt 
admit  of  much  more  varied  and  extensive  means  of  investigation 
than  phenomena  of  less  complexity.  In  this  view  it  is  not  only 
the  immediate  inspection  or  direct  description  of  events  that 


52  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

affords  useful  means  of  positive  exploration,  but  the  considera- 
tion of  apparently  insignificant  customs,  the  appreciation  of  vari- 
ous kinds  of  monuments,  the  analysis  and  comparison  of  languages, 
and  a  multitude  of  other  resources.  In  short,  a  mind  suitably 
trained  becomes  able  by  exercise  to  convert  almost  all  impressions 
from  the  events  of  life  into  sociological  indications,  when  once 
the  connection  of  all  indications  with  the  leading  ideas  of  the 
science  is  understood.  This  is  a  facility  afforded  by  the  mutual 
relation  of  the  various  aspects  of  society,  which  may  partly  com- 
pensate for  the  difficulty  caused  by  that  mutual  connection  ;  if  it 
renders  observation  more  difficult,  it  affords  more  means  for  its 
prosecution. 

EXPERIMENT 

It  might  be  supposed  beforehand  that  the  second  method  of 
investigation,  experiment,  must  be  wholly  inapplicable  to  social 
science  ;  but  we  shall  find  that  the  science  is  not  entirely  deprived 
of  this  resource,  though  it  must  be  one  of  inferior  value.  We 
must  remember  (what  was  before  explained)  that  there  are  two 
kinds  of  experimentation, — the  direct  and  the  indirect,  —  and  that 
it  is  not  necessary  to  the  philosophical  character  of  this  method 
that  the  circumstances  of  the  phenomenon  in  question  should  be, 
as  is  vulgarly  supposed  in  the  learned  world,  artificially  instituted. 
Whether  the  case  be  natural  or  factitious,  experimentation  takes 
place  whenever  the  regular  course  of  the  phenomenon  is  interfered 
with  in  any  determinate  manner.  The  spontaneous  nature  of  the 
alteration  has  no  effect  on  the  scientific  value  of  the  case,  if  the 
elements  are  known.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  experimentation  is 
possible  in  sociology.  If  direct  experimentation  has  become  too 
difficult  amidst  the  complexities  of  biology,  it  may  well  be  con- 
sidered impossible  in  social  science.  Any  artificial  disturbance  of 
any  social  element  must  affect  all  the  rest,  according  to  the  laws 
both  of  coexistence  and  succession ;  and  the  experiment  would 
therefore,  if  it  could  be  instituted  at  all,  be  deprived  of  all  scien- 
tific value,  through  the  impossibility  of  isolating  either  the  con- 
ditions or  the  results  of  the  phenomenon.  But  we  saw  in  our 
survey  of  biology  that  pathological  cases  are  the  true  scientific 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      53 

equivalent  of  pure  experimentation,  and  why.  The  same  reasons 
apply,  with  even  more  force,  to  sociological  researches.  In  them 
pathological  analysis  consists  in  the  examination  of  cases,  unhap- 
pily too  common,  in  which  the  natural  laws,  either  of  harmony  or 
of  succession,  are  disturbed  by  any  causes,  special  or  general, 
accidental  or  transient,  as  in  revolutionary  times  especially,  and 
above  all,  in  our  own.  These  disturbances  are,  in  the  social  body, 
exactly  analogous  to  diseases  in  the  individual  organism ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  analogy  will  be  more  evident 
(allowance  being  made  for  the  unequal  complexity  of  the  organ- 
isms) the  deeper  the  investigation  goes.  In  both  cases  it  is,  as  I 
said  once  before,  a  noble  use  to  make  of  our  reason,  to  disclose 
the  real  laws  of  our  nature,  individual  or  social,  by  the  analysis 
of  its  sufferings.  But  if  the  method  is  imperfectly  instituted  in 
regard  to  biological  questions,  much  more  faulty  must  it  be  in 
regard  to  the  phenomena  of  social  science,  for  want  even  of  the 
rational  conceptions  to  which  they  are  to  be  referred.  We  see 
the  most  disastrous  political  experiments  forever  renewed,  with 
only  some  insignificant  and  irrational  modifications,  though  their 
first  operation  should  have  fully  satisfied  us  of  the  uselessness 
and  danger  of  the  expedients  proposed.  Without  forgetting  how 
much  is  ascribable  to  the  influence  of  human  passions,  we  must 
remember  that  the  deficiency  of  an  authoritative  rational  analysis 
is  one  of  the  main  causes  of  the  barrenness  imputed  to  social 
experiments,  the  course  of  which  would  become  much  more 
instructive  if  it  were  better  observed.  The  great  natural  laws 
exist  and  act  in  all  conditions  of  the  organism ;  for,  as  we  saw  in 
the  case  of  biology,  it  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  they  are  violated 
or  suspended  in  the  case  of  disease  ;  and  we  are  therefore  justified 
in  drawing  our  conclusions,  with  due  caution,  from  the  scientific 
analysis  of  disturbance  to  the  positive  theory  of  normal  existence. 
This  is  the  nature  and  character  of  the  indirect  experimentation 
which  discloses  the  real  economy  of  the  social  body  in  a  more 
marked  manner  than  simple  observation  could  do.  It  is  applica- 
ble to  all  orders  of  sociological  research,  whether  relating  to 
existence  or  to  movement,  and  regarded  under  any  aspect  what- 
ever, —  physical,  intellectual,  moral,  or  political ;  and  to  all  degrees 


54  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  the  social  evolution,  from  which,  unhappily,  disturbances  have 
never  been  absent.  As  for  its  present  extension,  no  one  can 
venture  to  offer  any  statement  of  it,  because  it  has  never  been 
duly  applied  in  any  investigation  in  political  philosophy ;  and  it 
can  become  customary  only  by  the  institution  of  the  new  science 
which  I  am  endeavoring  to  establish ;  but  I  could  not  omit  this 
notice  of  it  as  one  of  the  means  of  investigation  proper  to  social 
science. 

COMPARISON 

As  for  the  third  of  those  methods,  comparison,  the  reader 
must  bear  in  mind  the  explanations  offered,  in  our  survey  of  bio- 
logical philosophy,  of  the  reasons  why  the  comparative  method 
must  prevail  in  all  studies  of  which  the  living  organism  is  the  sub- 
ject ;  and  the  more  remarkably,  in  proportion  to  the  rank  of  the 
organism.  The  same  considerations  apply  in  the  present  case,  in 
a  more  conspicuous  degree ;  and  I  may  leave  it  to  the  reader  to 
make  the  application,  merely  pointing  out  the  chief  differences 
which  distinguish  the  use  of  the  comparative  method  in  sociologi- 
cal inquiries. 

Comparison  with  Inferior  Animals 

It  is  a  very  irrational  disdain  which  makes  us  object  to  all 
comparison  between  human  society  and  the  social  state  of  the 
lower  animals.  This  unphilosophical  pride  arose  out  of  the  pro- 
tracted influence  of  the  theologico-metaphysical  philosophy  ;  and 
it  will  be  corrected  by  the  positive  philosophy,  when  we  better 
understand  and  can  estimate  the  social  state  of  the  higher  orders 
of  mammifers,  for  instance.  We  have  seen  how  important  is  the 
study  of  individual  life  in  regard  to  intellectual  and  moral  phe- 
nomena, of  which  social  phenomena  are  the  natural  result  and 
complement.  There  was  once  the  same  blindness  to  the  impor- 
tance of  the  procedure  in  this  case  as  now  exists  in  the  other ;  and, 
as  it  has  given  way  in  the  one  case,  so  it  will  in  the  other.  The 
chief  defect  in  the  kind  of  sociological  comparison  that  we  want 
is  that  it  is  limited  to  statical  considerations ;  whereas  the 
dynamical  are,  at  the  present  time,  the  preponderant  and  direct 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      55 

subject  of  science.  The  restriction  results  from  the  social  state 
of  animals  being,  though  not  so  stationary  as  we  are  apt  to  sup- 
pose, yet  susceptible  only  of  extremely  small  variations,  in  no 
way  comparable  to  the  continued  progression  of  humanity  in  its 
feeblest  days.  But  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  scientific  utility  of 
such  a  comparison,  in  the  statical  province,  where  it  character- 
izes the  elementary  laws  of  social  interconnection  by  exhibiting 
their  action  in  the  most  imperfect  state  of  society,  so  as  eveji 
to  suggest  useful  inductions  in  regard  to  human  society.  There 
cannot  be  a  stronger  evidence  of  the  natural  character  of  the 
chief  social  relations,  which  some  people  fancy  that  they  can 
transform  at  pleasure.  Such  sophists  will  cease  to  regard  the 
great  ties  of  the  human  family  as  factitious  and  arbitrary  when 
they  find  them  existing,  with  the  same  essential  characteris- 
tics, among  the  animals,  and  more  conspicuously  the  nearer  the 
organisms  approach  to  the  human  type.  In  brief,  in  all  that  part 
of  sociology  which  is  almost  one  with  intellectual  and  moral 
biology,  or  with  the  natural  history  of  man,  in  all  that  relates 
to  the  first  germs  of  the  social  relations  and  the  first  institutions 
which  were  founded  by  the  unity  of  the  family  or  the  tribe, 
there  is  not  only  great  scientific  advantage  but  real  philosophical 
necessity  for  employing  the  rational  comparison  of  human  with 
other  animal  societies.  Perhaps  it  might  even  be  desirable  not 
to  confine  the  comparison  to  societies  which  present  a  character 
of  voluntary  cooperation  in  analogy  to  the  human.  They  must 
always  rank  first  in  importance  ;  but  the  scientific  spirit,  extend- 
ing the  process  to  its  final  logical  term,  might  find  some  advan- 
tage in  examining  those  strange  associations  proper  to  the 
inferior  animals,  in  which  an  involuntary  cooperation  results  from 
an  indissoluble  organic  union,  either  by  simple  adhesion  or  real 
continuity.  If  the  science  gained  nothing  by  this  extension,  the 
method  would.  And  there  is  nothing  that  can  compare  with  such 
an  habitual  scientific  comparison  for  the  great  service  of  casting 
out  the  absolute  spirit  which  is  the  chief  vice  of  political  philos- 
ophy. It  appears  to  me,  moreover,  that,  in  a  practical  view, 
the  insolent  pride  which  induces  some  ranks  of  society  to  sup- 
pose themselves  as,  in  a  manner,  of  another  species  than  the  rest 


56  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  mankind  is  in  close  affinity  with  the  irrational  disdain  that 
repudiates  all  comparison  between  human  and  other  animal 
nature.  However  all  this  may  be,  these  considerations  apply 
only  to  a  methodical  and  special  treatment  of  social  philosophy. 
Here,  where  I  can  offer  only  the  first  conception  of  the  science, 
in  which  dynamical  considerations  must  prevail,  it  is  evident  that 
I  can  make  little  use  of  the  kind  of  comparison ;  and  this  makes 
it  all  the  more  necessary  to  point  it  out,  lest  its  omission  should 
occasion  such  scientific  inconveniences  as  I  have  just  indicated. 
The  commonest  logical  procedures  are  generally  so  characterized 
by  their  very  application  that  nothing  more  of  a  preliminary 
nature  is  needed  than  the  simplest  examination  of  their  funda- 
mental properties. 

Comparison  of  Coexisting  States  of  Society 

To  indicate  the  order  of  importance  of  the  forms  of  society 
which  are  to  be  studied  by  the  comparative  method,  I  begin 
with  the  chief  method,  which  consists  in  a  comparison  of  the 
different  coexisting  states  of  human  society  on  the  various  parts 
of  the  earth's  surface,  —  those  states  being  completely  independ- 
ent of  each  other.  By  this  method  the  different  stages  of  evo- 
lution may  all  be  observed  at  once.  Though  the  progression  is 
single  and  uniform  in  regard  to  the  whole  race,  some  very  con- 
siderable and  very  various  populations  have,  from  causes  which 
are  little  understood,  attained  extremely  unequal  degrees  of 
development,  so  that  the  former  states  of  the  most  civilized 
nations  are  now  to  be  seen,  amidst  some  partial  differences, 
among  contemporary  populations  inhabiting  different  parts  of  the 
globe.  In  its  relation  to  observation  this  kind  of  comparison 
offers  the  advantage  of  being  applicable  both  to  statical  and 
dynamical  inquiries,  verifying  the  laws  of  both,  and  even  fur- 
nishing occasionally  valuable  direct  inductions  in  regard  to  both. 
In  the  second  place,  it  exhibits  all  possible  degrees  of  social 
evolution  to  our  immediate  observation.  From  the  wretched 
inhabitants  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  to  the  most  advanced  nations  of 
western  Europe,  there  is  no  social  grade  which  is  not  extant  in 
some  points  of  the  globe,  and  usually  in  localities  which  are 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      57 

clearly  apart.  In  the  historical  part  of  this  volume  we  shall  find 
that  some  interesting  secondary  phases  of  social  development,  of 
which  the  history  of  civilization  leaves  no  perceptible  traces,  can 
be  known  only  by  this  comparative  method  of  study ;  and  these 
are  not,  as  might  be  supposed,  the  lowest  degrees  of  evolution, 
which  every  one  admits  can  be  investigated  in  no  other  way. 
And  between  the  great  historical  aspects  there  are  numerous 
intermediate  states  which  must  be  observed  thus,  if  at  all.  This 
second  part  of  the  comparative  method  verifies  the  indications 
afforded  by  historical  analysis,  and  fills  up  the  gaps  it  leaves; 
and  nothing  can  be  more  rational  than  this  method,  as  it  rests 
upon  the  established  principle  that  the  development  of  the  human 
mind  is  uniform  in  the  midst  of  all  diversities  of  climate,  and  even 
of  race,  such  diversities  having  no  effect  upon  anything  more 
than  the  rate  of  progress.  But  we  must  beware  of  the  scientific 
dangers  attending  the  process  of  comparison  by  this  method. 
For  instance,  it  can  give  us  no  idea  of  the  order  of  succession,  as 
it  presents  all  the  states  of  development  as  coexisting ;  so  that, 
if  the  order  of  development  were  not  established  by  other  methods, 
this  one  would  infallibly  mislead  us.  And  again,  if  we  were  not 
misled  as  to  the  order,  there  is  nothing  in  this  method  which 
discloses  the  filiation  of  the  different  systems  of  society, — a  matter 
in  which  the  most  distinguished  philosphers  have  been  mistaken 
in  various  ways  and  degrees.  Again,  there  is  the  danger  of  mistak- 
ing modifications  for  primary  phases,  as  when  social  differences 
have  been  ascribed  to  the  political  influence  of  climate,  instead  of 
to  that  inequality  of  evolution  which  is  the  real  cause.  Sometimes, 
but  more  rarely,  the  mistake  is  the  other  way.  Indeed,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  matter  that  can  show  which  of  two  cases  presents 
the  diversity  that  is  observed.  We  are  in  danger  of  the  same 
mistake  in  regard  to  races  ;  for,  as  the  sociological  comparison 
is  instituted  between  peoples  of  different  races,  we  are  liable  to 
confound  the  effects  of  race  and  of  the  social  period.  Again, 
climate  comes  in  to  offer  a  third  source  of  interpretation  of  com- 
parative phenomena,  sometimes  agreeing  with  and  sometimes 
contradicting  the  two  others,  thus  multiplying  the  chances  of 
error  and  rendering  the  analysis  which  looked  so  promising 


58  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

almost  impracticable.  Here,  again,  we  see  the  indispensable 
necessity  of  keeping  in  view  the  positive  conception  of  human 
development  as  a  whole.  By  this  alone  can  we  be  preserved  from 
such  errors  as  I  have  referred  to,  and  enriched  by  any  genuine 
results  of  analysis.  We  see  how  absurd  in  theory  and  dangerous 
in  practice  are  the  notions  and  declamations  of  the  empirical 
school,  and  of  the  enemies  of  all  social  speculation ;  for  it  is 
precisely  in  proportion  to  their  elevation  and  generality  that  the 
ideas  of  positive  social  philosophy  become  real  and  effective,  — 
all  illusion  and  uselessness  belonging  to  conceptions  which  are 
too  narrow  and  too  special,  in  the  departments  either  of  science 
or  of  reasoning.  But  it  is  a  consequence  from  these  last  con- 
siderations that  this  first  sketch  of  sociological  science,  with  the 
means  of  investigation  that  belong  to  it,  rests  immediately  upon 
the  primary  use  of  a  new  method  of  observation,  which  is  so 
appropriate  to  the  nature  of  the  phenomena  as  to  be  exempt  from 
the  dangers  inherent  in  the  others.  This  last  portion  of  the 
comparative  method  is  the  historical  method,  properly  so  called, 
and  it  is  the  only  basis  on  which  the  system  of  political  logic  can 
rest. 

Comparison  of  Consecutive  States 

The  historical  comparison  of  the  consecutive  states  of  human- 
ity is  not  only  the  chief  scientific  device  of  the  new  political 
philosophy.  Its  rational  development  constitutes  the  substratum 
of  the  science,  in  whatever  is  essential  to  it.  It  is  this  which 
distinguishes  it  thoroughly  from  biological  science,  as  we  shall 
presently  see.  The  positive  principle  of  this  separation  results 
from  the  necessary  influence  of  human  generations  upon  the 
generations  that  follow,  accumulating  continuously  till  it  consti- 
tutes the  preponderating  consideration  in  the  direct  study  of 
social  development.  As  long  as  this  preponderance  is  not 
directly  recognized,  the  positive  study  of  humanity  must  appear 
a  simple  prolongation  of  the  natural  history  of  man  ;  but  this 
scientific  character,  suitable  enough  to  the  earlier  generations, 
disappears  in  the  course  of  the  social  evolution,  and  assumes  at 
length  a  wholly  new  aspect,  proper  to  sociological  science,  in 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      59 

which  historical  considerations  are  of  immediate  importance. 
And  this  preponderant  use  of  the  historical  method  gives  its 
philosophical  character  to  sociology  in  a  logical  as  well  as  a 
scientific  sense.  By  the  creation  of  this  new  department  of  the 
comparative  method  sociology  confers  a  benefit  on  the  whole  of 
natural  philosophy,  because  the  positive  method  is  thus  com- 
pleted and  perfected  in  a  manner  which,  for  scientific  importance, 
is  almost  beyond  our  estimate.  What  we  can  now  compre- 
hend is  that  the  historical  method-  verifies  and  applies,  in  the 
largest  way,  that  chief  quality  of  sociological  science,  —  its  pro- 
ceeding from  the  whole  to  the  parts.  Without  this  permanent 
condition  of  social  study  all  historical  labor  would  degenerate 
into  a  mere  compilation  of  provisional  materials.  As  it  is  in 
their  development  especially  that  the  various  social  elements 
are  interconnected  and  inseparable,  it  is  clear  that  any  partial 
filiation  must  be  essentially  untrue.  Where,  for  instance,  is  the 
use  of  any  exclusive  history  of  any  one  science  or  art,  unless 
meaning  is  given  to  it  by  first  connecting  it  with  the  study  of 
human  progress  generally  ?  It  is  the  same  in  every  direction, 
and  especially  with  regard  to  political  history,  as  it  is  called,  — 
as  if  any  history  could  be  other  than  political,  more  or  less  ! 
The  prevailing  tendency  to  speciality  in  study  would  reduce  his- 
tory to  a  mere  accumulation  of  unconnected  delineations,  in 
which  all  idea  of  the  true  filiation  of  events  would  be  lost  amidst 
the  mass  of  confused  descriptions.  If  the  historical  comparisons 
of  the  different  periods  of  civilization  are  to  have  any  scientific 
character,  they  must  be  referred  to  the  general  social  evolution  ; 
and  it  is  only  thus  that  we  can  obtain  the  guiding  ideas  by 
which  the  special  studies  themselves  must  be  directed. 

In  a  practical  view  it  is  evident  that  the  preponderance  of 
the  historical  method  tends  to  develop  the  social  sentiment  by 
giving  us  an  immediate  interest  in  even  the  earliest  experiences 
of  our  race,  through  the  influence  which  they  exercised  over  the 
evolution  of  our  own  civilization.  As  Condorcet  observed,  no 
enlightened  man  can  think  of  the  battles  of  Marathon  and 
Salamis  without  perceiving  the  importance  of  their  consequences 
to  the  race  at  large.  This  kind  of  feeling  should,  when  we  are 


6o  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

treating  of  science,  be  carefully  distinguished  from  the  sympa- 
thetic interest  which  is  awakened  by  all  delineations  of  human 
life,  in  fiction  as  well  as  in  history.  The  sentiment  I  refer  to 
is  deeper,  because  in  some  sort  personal ;  and  more  reflective, 
because  it  results  from  scientific  conviction.  It  cannot  be  excited 
by  popular  history  in  a  descriptive  form,  but  only  by  positive 
history,  regarded  as  a  true  science,  and  exhibiting  the  events  of 
human  experience  in  coordinated  series  which  manifest  their 
own  graduated  connection.  This  new  form  of  the  social  senti- 
ment must  at  first  be  the  privilege  of  the  choice  few ;  but  it 
will  be  extended,  somewhat  weakened  in  force,  to  the  whole  of 
society,  in  proportion  as  the  general  results  of  social  physics 
become  sufficiently  popular.  It  will  fulfill  the  most  obvious  and 
elementary  idea  of  the  habitual  connection  between  individuals 
and  contemporary  nations,  by  showing  that  the  successive  gen- 
erations of  men  concur  in  a  final  end,  which  requires  the  deter- 
minate participation  of  each  and  all.  This  rational  disposition  to 
regard  men  of  all  times  as  fellow-workers  is  as  yet  visible  in  the 
case  of  only  the  most  advanced  sciences.  By  the  philosophical 
preponderance  of  the  historical  method  it  will  be  extended  to 
all  the  aspects  of  human  life,  so  as  to  sustain,  in  a  reflective 
temper,  that  respect  for  our  ancestors  which  is  indispensable 
to  a  sound  state  of  society,  and  which  is  so  deeply  disturbed  at 
present  by  the  metaphysical  philosophy. 

As  for  the  course  to  be  pursued  by  this  method,  it  appears 
to  me  that  its  spirit  consists  in  the  rational  use  of  social  series  ; 
that  is,  in  a  successive  estimate  of  the  different  states  of  human- 
ity which  shall  show  the  growth  of  each  disposition,  —  physical, 
intellectual,  moral,  or  political,  —  combined  with  the  decline  of  the 
opposite  disposition,  whence  we  may  obtain  a  scientific  prevision 
of  the  final  ascendency  of  the  one  and  extinction  of  the  other, 
care  being  taken  to  frame  our  conclusions  according  to  the  laws 
of  human  development.  A  considerable  accuracy  of  prevision 
may  thus  be  obtained  for  any  determinate  period  and  with  any 
particular  view,  as  historical  analysis  will  indicate  the  direction 
of  modifications  even  in  the  most  disturbed  times.  And  it  is 
worth  noticing  that  the  prevision  will  be  nearest  the  truth  in 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD       6 1 

proportion  as  the  phenomena  in  question  are  more  important 
and  more  general ;  because  then  continuous  causes  are  predomi- 
nant in  the  social  movement,  and  disturbances  have  less  power. 
From  these  first  general  aspects  the  same  rational  certainty 
may  extend  to  secondary  and  special  aspects,  through  their 
statical  relations  with  the  first ;  and  thus  we  may  obtain  conclu- 
sions sufficiently  accurate  for  the  application  of  principles. 

If  we  desire  to  familiarize  ourselves  with  this  historical  method, 
we  must  employ  it  first  upon  the  past,  by  endeavoring  to 
deduce  every  well-known  historical  situation  from  the  whole 
series  of  its  antecedents.  In  every  science  we  must  have  learned 
to  predict  the  past,  so  to  speak,  before  we  can  predict  the 
.  future  ;  because  the  first  use  of  the  observed  relations  among 
fulfilled  facts  is  to  teach  us  by  the  anterior  succession  what  the 
future  succession  will  be.  No  examination  of  facts  can  explain 
our  existing  state  to  us,  if  we  have  not  ascertained,  by  historical 
study,  the  value  of  the  elements  at  work ;  and  thus  it  is  in  vain 
that  statesmen  insist  on  the  necessity  of  political  observation, 
while  they  look  no  further  than  the  present,  or  a  very  recent 
past.  The  present  is,  by  itself,  purely  misleading,  because  it  is 
impossible  to  avoid  confounding  principal  with  secondary  facts, 
exalting  conspicuous  transient  manifestations  over  fundamental 
tendencies,  which  are  generally  very  quiet,  and  above  all,  sup- 
posing those  powers,  institutions,  and  doctrines  to  be  in  the 
ascendant,  which  are,  in  fact,  in  their  decline.  It  is  clear  that 
the  only  adequate  corrective  of  all  this  is  a  philosophical  under- 
standing of  the  past,  that  the  comparison  cannot  be  decisive 
unless  it  embraces  the  whole  of  the  past,  and  that  the  sooner 
we  stop,  in  traveling  up  the  vista  of  time,  the  more  serious  will 
be  our  mistakes.  We  see  statesmen  going  no  further  back  than 
the  last  century  to  obtain  an  explanation  of  the  confusion  in 
which  we  are  living ;  the  most  abstract  of  politicians  may  take 
in  the  preceding  century,  but  the  philosophers  themselves  hardly 
venture  beyond  the  sixteenth,  so  that  those  who  are  striving  to 
find  the  issue  of  the  revolutionary  period  have  actually  no  con- 
ception of  it  as  a  whole,  though  that  whole  is  itself  only  a  tran- 
sient phase  of  the  general  social  movement. 


62  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  most  perfect  methods  may,  however,  be  rendered  deceptive 
by  misuse  ;  and  this  we  must  bear  in  mind.  We  have  seen  that 
mathematical  analysis  itself  may  betray  us  into  substituting  signs 
for  ideas,  and  that  it  conceals  inanity  of  conception  under  an 
imposing  verbiage.  The  difficulty  in  the  case  of  the  historical 
method  in  sociology  is  in  applying  it,  on  account  of  the  extreme 
complexity  of  the  materials  we  have  to  deal  with;  but  for  this 
the  method  would  be  entirely  safe.  The  chief  danger  is  of  our 
supposing  a  continuous  decrease  to  indicate  a  final  extinction,  or 
the  reverse ;  as  in  mathematics  it  is  a  common  sophism  to  con- 
found continuous  variations,  more  or  less,  with  unlimited  varia- 
tions. To  take  a  strange  and  very  marked  example :  if  we 
consider  that  part  of  social  development  which  relates  to  human 
food,  we  cannot  but  observe  that  men  take  less  food  as  they 
advance  in  civilization.  If  we  compare  savage  with  more  civilized 
peoples,  in  the  Homeric  poems  or  in  the  narratives  of  travelers, 
or  compare  country  to  town  life,  or  any  generation  with  the  one 
that  went  before,  we  shall  find  this  curious  result,  the  socio- 
logical law  of  which  we  shall  examine  hereafter.  The  laws  of 
individual  human  nature  aid  in  the  result  by  making  intellectual 
and  moral  action  more  preponderant  as  man  becomes  more  civi- 
lized. The  fact  is  thus  established  both  by  the  experimental  and 
the  logical  way ;  yet  nobody  supposes  that  men  will  ultimately 
cease  to  eat.  In  this  case  the  absurdity  saves  us  from  a  false 
conclusion,  but  in  other  cases  the  complexity  disguises  much 
error  in  the  experiment  and  the  reasoning.  In  the  above  instance 
we  must  resort  to  the  laws  of  our  nature  for  that  verification 
which,  taken  all  together,  they  afford  to  our  sociological  analysis. 
As  the  social  phenomenon,  taken  as  a  whole,  is  simply  a  devel- 
opment of  humanity,  without  any  real  creation  of  faculties,  all 
social  manifestations  must  be  found,  if  only  in  their  germ,  in  the 
primitive  type  which  biology  constructed  by  anticipation  for  soci- 
ology. Thus  every  law  of  social  succession  disclosed  by  the  his- 
torical method  must  be  unquestionably  connected,  directly  or 
indirectly,  with  the  positive  theory  of  human  nature  ;  and  all 
inductions  which  cannot  stand  this  test  will  prove  to  be  illusory, 
through  some  sort  of  insufficiency  in  the  observations  on  which 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  POSITIVE  METHOD      63 

they  are  grounded.  The  main  scientific  strength  of  sociological 
demonstrations  must  ever  lie  in  the  accordance  between  the  con- 
clusions of  historical  analysis  and  the  preparatory  conceptions  of 
the  biological  theory.  And  thus  we  find,  look  where  we  will,  a 
confirmation  of  that  chief  intellectual  character  of  the  new  science, 
—  the  philosophical  preponderance  of  the  spirit  of  the  whole  over 
the  spirit  of  detail. 

This  method  ranks,  in  sociological  science,  with  that  of  zoo- 
logical comparison  in  the  study  of  individual  life  ;  and  we  shall  see, 
as  we  proceed,  that  the  succession  of  social  states  exactly  corre- 
sponds, in  a  scientific  sense,  with  the  gradation  of  organisms  in 
biology ;  and  the  social  series,  once  clearly  established,  must  be 
as  real  and  as  useful  as  the  animal  series. 


PROMISE  OF  A  FOURTH  METHOD 

When  the  method  has  been  used  long  enough  to  disclose  its 
properties,  I  am  disposed  to  think  that  it  will  be  regarded  as  so 
very  marked  a  modification  of  positive  research  as  to  deserve  a 
separate  place  ;  so  that,  in  addition  to  observation  properly  so 
called,  experiment,  and  comparison,  we  shall  have  the  historical 
method  as  a  fourth  and  final  mode  of  the  art  of  observing.  It 
will  be  derived,  according  to  the  usual  course,  from  the  mode 
which  immediately  precedes  it ;  and  it  will  be  applied  to  the 
analysis  of  the  most  complex  phenomena. 

I  must  be  allowed  to  point  out  that  the  new  political  philosophy, 
sanctioning  the  old  leadings  of  popular  reason,  restores  to  history 
all  its  scientific  rights  as  a  basis  of  wise  social  speculation,  after 
the  metaphysical  philosophy  had  striven  to  induce  us  to  discard 
all  large  considerations  of  the  past.  In  the  foregoing  departments 
of  natural  philosophy  we  have  seen  that  the  positive  spirit,  instead 
of  being  disturbing  in  its  tendencies,  is  remarkable  for  confirming, 
in  the  essential  parts  of  every  science,  the  inestimable  intuitions 
of  popular  good  sense,  of  which  indeed  science  is  merely  a  system- 
atic prolongation,  and  which  a  barren  metaphysical  philosophy 
alone  could  despise.  In  this  case,  so  far  from  restricting  the 
influence  which  human  reason  has  ever  attributed  to  history  in 


64  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

political  combinations,  the  new  social  philosophy  increases  it 
radically  and  eminently.  It  asks  from  history  something  more 
than  counsel  and  instruction  to  perfect  conceptions  which  are 
derived  from  another  source ;  it  seeks  its  own  general  direction 
through  the  whole  system  of  historical  conclusions.1 

1  The  analysis  of  the  familiar  facts  of  everyday  life  deserves  a  place  as  a  fifth 
method.  It  has  probably  been  carried  further  by  the  Austrian  school  of  econo- 
mists in  their  development  of  the  theory  of  value  than  by  any  other  group  of 
students  in  the  general  field  of  the  social  sciences.  This  method  seeks  to  find 
in  human  nature  itself  the  motives  which  produce  social  and  economic  activities, 
and  to  discover  how  these  motives  counteract  and  balance  one  another.  So  fruit- 
ful has  been  this  method  in  economics  that  the  student  of  sociology  must  look 
forward  with  confidence  to  its  application  to  many  of  the  wider  problems  of 
sociology  and  politics.  No  one  can  understand,  to  take  a  single  example,  the 
territorial  expansion  of  the  United  States  since  the  Spanish  War  who  does  not 
make  a  minute  analysis  of  the  motives  and  appetites  of  the  people.  Paradoxical 
as  it  may  seem,  this  movement  must  be  studied  as  a  form  of  consumption  of 
wealth,  as  the  gratification  of  an  appetite.  It  is  therefore  useless  to  point  out 
that  it  is  an  expensive  policy.  It  is  also  expensive  to  build  fine  houses,  keep 
steam  yachts  or  horses  and  carriages,  or  to  own  shooting  boxes  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  If  we  conclude  that  the  satisfaction  derived  from  any  of  these  forms  of 
private  consumption  is  worth  the  expense,  that  is  sufficient.  Similarly,  if  the 
people  conclude  that  the  satisfaction  derived  from  such  forms  of  public  consump- 
tion as  magnificent  public  buildings,  large  navies,  or  distant  territorial  posses- 
sions, is  worth  all  the  expense,  they  are  not  likely  to  be  deterred  by  financial 
considerations.  —  ED. 


Ill 

RELATION   OF   SOCIOLOGY  TO  THE   OTHER   DE- 
PARTMENTS  OF   POSITIVE  PHILOSOPHY1 

RELATION  TO  BIOLOGY 

The  subordination  of  social  science  to  biology  is  so  evident 
that  nobody  denies  it  in  statement,  however  it  may  be  neglected 
in  practice.  This  contrariety  between  the  statement  and  the 
practice  is  due  to  something  else  besides  the  faulty  condition  of 
social  studies  ;  it  results  also  from  the  imperfection  of  biological 
science,  and  especially  from  its  most  conspicuous  imperfection 
of  all, — that  of  its  highest  part,  relating  to  intellectual  and  moral 
phenomena.  It  is  by  this  portion  that  biology  and  sociology  are 
the  most  closely  connected  ;  and  cerebral  physiology  is  too  recent, 
and  its  scientific  state  too  immature,  to  have  admitted,  as  yet, 
of  any  proper  organization  of  the  relations  of  the  two  sciences. 
Whenever  the  time  for  that  process  arrives,  the  connection  will 
be  seen  to  bear  two  aspects.  Under  the  first,  biology  will  be 
seen  to  afford  the  starting  point  of  all  social  speculation,  in 
accordance  with  the  analysis  of  the  social  faculties  of  man,  and 
of  the  organic  conditions  which  determine  its  character.  But, 
moreover,  as  we  can  scarcely  at  all  investigate  the  most  elemen- 
tary terms  of  the  social  series,  we  must  construct  them  by 
applying  the  positive  theory  of  human  nature  to  the  aggregate 
of  corresponding  circumstances,  regarding  the  small  materials 
that  we  are  able  to  obtain  as  rather  adapted  to  facilitate  and 
improve  this  rational  determination  than  to  show  us  what  society 
really  was  at  so  early  a  period.  When  the  social  condition  has 
advanced  so  far  as  to  exclude  this  kind  of  deduction,  the  second 

1  From  The  Positive  Philosophy  of  Auguste  Comte,  translated  by  Harriet 
Martineau,  Vol.  II,  chap,  iv,  pp.  112-117,  London  and  New  York,  1853. 

65 


66  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

aspect  presents  itself,  and  the  biological  theory  of  man  is  impli- 
cated with  the  sociological  in  a  less  direct  and  special  manner. 
The  whole  social  evolution  of  the  race  must  proceed  in  entire 
accordance  with  biological  laws ;  and  social  phenomena  must 
always  be  founded  on  the  necessary  invariableness  of  the  human 
organism,  the  characteristics  of  which — physical,  intellectual,  and 
moral  —  are  always  found  to  be  essentially  the  same,  and  related 
in  the  same  manner  at  every  degree  of  the  social  scale,  no 
development  of  them  attendant  upon  the  social  condition  ever 
altering  their  nature  in  the  least,  or,  of  course,  creating  or 
destroying  any  faculties  whatever,  or  transposing  their  influence. 
No  sociological  view  can  therefore  be  admitted  at  any  stage  of 
the  science,  or  under  any  appearance  of  historical  induction,  that 
is  contradictory  to  the  known  laws  of  human  nature.  No  view 
can  be  admitted,  for  instance,  which  supposes  a  very  marked 
character  of  goodness  or  wickedness  to  exist  in  the  majority  of 
men,  or  which  represents  the  sympathetic  affections  as  prevail- 
ing over  the  personal  ones,  or  the  intellectual  over  the  affective 
faculties,  etc.  In  cases  like  these,  which  are  more  common  than 
the  imperfection  of  the  biological  theory  would  lead  us  to  expect, 
all  sociological  principles  must  be  as  carefully  submitted  to  ulte- 
rior correction  as  if  they  supposed  human  life  to  be  extravagantly 
long,  or  contravened  in  any  other  way  the  physical  laws  of 
humanity  ;  because  the  intellectual  and  moral  conditions  of  human 
existence  are  as  real  and  as  imperative  as  its  material  conditions, 
though  more  difficult  to  estimate,  and  therefore  less  known. 
Thus,  in  a  biological  view,  all  existing  political  doctrines  are 
radically  vicious,  because,  in  their  irrational  estimate  of  political 
phenomena,  they  suppose  qualities  to  exist  among  rulers  and  the 
ruled  —  here  an  habitual  perverseness  or  imbecility,  and  there  a 
spirit  of  concert  or  calculation  —  which  are  incompatible  with 
positive  ideas  of  human  nature,  and  which  would  impute  patho- 
logical monstrosity  to  whole  classes,  which  is  simply  absurd. 
An  example  like  this  shows  what  valuable  resources  positive 
sociology  must  derive  from  its  subordination  to  biology,  and 
especially  in  regard  to  cerebral  physiology,  whenever  it  comes  to 
be  studied  as  it  ought. 


RELATION  TO  OTHER  DEPARTMENTS  67 

The  students  of  biology  have,  however,  the  same  tendency  to 
exalt  their  own  science  at  the  expense  of  that  which  follows  it, 
that  physicists  and  chemists  have  shown  in  regard  to  biology. 
The  biologists  lose  sight  of  historical  observation  altogether, 
and  represent  sociology  as  a  mere  corollary  of  .the  science  of 
man,  in  the  same  way  that  physicists  and  chemists  treat  biology 
as  a  mere  derivative  from  the  inorganic  philosophy.  The  injury 
to  science  is  great  in  both  cases.  If  we  neglect  historical  com- 
parison, we  can  understand  nothing  of  the  social  evolution;  and 
the  chief  phenomenon  in  sociology  —  the  phenomenon  which 
marks  its  scientific  originality,  that  is,  the  gradual  and  continu- 
ous influence  of  generations  upon  each  other  —  would  be  dis- 
guised or  unnoticed  for  want  of  the  necessary  key,  historical 
analysis.  From  the  time  that  the  influence  of  former  generations 
becomes  the  cause  of  any  modification  of  the  social  movement 
the  mode  of  investigation  must  accord  with  the  nature  of  the 
phenomena ;  and  historical  analysis  therefore  becomes  prepon- 
derant, while  biological  considerations,  which  explained  the  earliest 
movements  of  society,  cease  to  be  more  than  a  valuable  auxiliary 
and  means  of  control.  It  is  the  same  thing  as  when,  in  the  study 
of  inorganic  science,  men  quit  deduction  for  direct  observation. 
It  is  the  same  thing  as  when,  in  biology,  observers  proceed  from  a 
contemplation  of  the  organism  and  its  medium  to  an  analysis  of 
the  ages  of  the  individual  being,  as  a  principal  means  of  investiga- 
tion. The  only  difference  is  that  the  change  in  the  instrument  is 
the  more  necessary  the  more  complex  are  the  phenomena  to  be 
studied.  This  would  have  been  seen  at  once,  and  political  phi- 
losophy would  have  been  admitted  to  depend  on  this  condition 
for  its  advance,  but  for  the  prevalence  of  the  vicious  absolute 
spirit  in  social  speculation,  which,  neglecting  the  facts  of  the 
case,  forever  strives  to  subject  social  considerations  to  the  abso- 
lute conception  of  an  immutable  political  type,  no  less  adverse  to 
the  relative  spirit  of  positive  philosophy  than  theological  and 
metaphysical  types,  though  less  indefinite.  The  consequence  of 
this  error  is  that  social  modifications  proper  to  certain  periods, 
and  passing  away  with  them,  are  too  often  supposed  to  be 
inherent  in  human  nature,  and  therefore  indestructible.  Even 


68  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Gall,  attending  only  to  imperfect  physiological  considerations, 
and  neglecting  the  social,  wandered  off  into  a  sort  of  scientific 
declamation  on  the  subject  of  war,  declaring  the  military  tenden- 
cies of  mankind  to  be  immutable,  notwithstanding  the  mass  of 
historical  testimony  which  shows  that  the  warlike  disposition 
diminishes  as  human  development  proceeds.  A  multitude  of 
examples  of  this  kind  of  mistake  might  be  presented,  the  most 
striking  of  which  are  perhaps  in  connection  with-theories  of  edu- 
cation, which  are  usually  formed  on  absolute  principles,  to  the 
neglect  of  the  corresponding  state  of  civilization. 

The  true  nature  of  sociology  is  evident  enough  from  what  has 
been  said.  We  see  that  it  is  not  an  appendix  to  biology,  but  a 
science  by  itself,  founded  upon  a  distinct  basis,  while  closely  con- 
nected, from  first  to  last,  with  biology.  Such  is  the  scientific 
view  of  it.  As  to  the  method,  the  logical  analogy  of  the  two 
sciences  is  so  clear  as  to  leave  no  doubt  that  social  philosophers 
must  prepare  their  understandings  for  their  work  by  due  disci- 
pline in  biological  methods.  This  is  necessary  not  only  to  put 
them  in  possession  of  the  general  spirit  of  investigation  proper  to 
organic  science  but  yet  more  to  familiarize  them  with  the  com- 
parative method,  which  is  the  grand  resource  of  investigation  in 
both  sciences.  Moreover,  there  is  a  most  valuable  philosophical 
principle  common  to  both  sciences  which  remains  to  be  fully  de- 
veloped before  it  can  attain  its  final  prevalence  ;  I  mean  the  posi- 
tive version  of  the  dogma  of  final  causes.  This  principle  belongs 
eminently  to  the  study  of  living  bodies,  in  which  that  distinction 
is  especially  marked,  and  where  alone  the  general  idea  of  it  can 
properly  be  acquired.  But,  great  as  is  its  direct  use  in  the  study 
of  individual  life,  it  is  applicable  in  a  much  more  extensive  and 
essential  way  in  social  science.  It  is  by  means  of  this  principle 
that  the  new  philosophy,  uniting  the  two  philosophical  meanings 
of  the  word  "necessary,"  exhibits  as  inevitable  that  which  first 
presents  itself  as  indispensable  ;  and  the  converse.  There  must  be 
something  in  it  peculiarly  in  harmony  with  social  investigations, 
as  we  are  led  up  to  it  by  the  most  opposite  methods  of  approach, 
one  evidence  of  which  is  De  Maistre's  fine  political  aphorism, 
"Whatever  is  necessary  exists." 


RELATION  TO  OTHER  DEPARTMENTS  69 

RELATION  TO   INORGANIC   PHILOSOPHY 

If  sociology  is  thus  subordinated  to  biology,  it  must  be  scien- 
tifically related  to  the  whole  system  of  inorganic  philosophy, 
because  biology  is  so.  But  it  is  also  connected  with  that  system 
by  immediate  relations  of  its  own. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  only  by  the  inorganic  philosophy  that 
we  can  duly  analyze  the  entire  system  of  exterior  conditions,  — 
chemical,  physical,  and  astronomical,  —  amidst  which  the  social 
evolution  proceeds,  and  by  which  its  rate  of  progress  is  deter- 
mined. Social  phenomena  can  no  more  be  understood  apart  from 
their  environment  than  those  of  individual  life.  All  exterior  dis- 
turbances which  could  affect  the  life  of  individual  man  must 
change  his  social  existence  ;  and,  conversely,  his  social  existence 
could  not  be  seriously  disturbed  by  any  modifications  of  the 
medium  which  should  not  derange  his  separate  condition.  I  need 
therefore  only  refer  to  what  I  have  said  in  regard  to  the  influ- 
ence of  astronomical  and  other  conditions  on  vital  existence,  for 
the  same  considerations  bear  on  the  case  of  social  phenomena. 
It  is  plain  that  society,  as  well  as  individual  beings,  is  affected  by 
the  circumstances  of  the  earth's  daily  rotation  and  annual  move- 
ment ;  and  by  states  of  heat,  moisture,  and  electricity  in  the 
surrounding  medium  ;  and  by  the  chemical  conditions  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  waters,  the  soil,  etc.  I  need  only  observe  that 
the  effect  of  these  influences  is  even  more  marked  in  sociology 
than  in  biology,  not  only  because  the  organism  is  more  complex, 
and  its  phenomena  of  a  higher  order,  but  because  the  social 
organism  is  regarded  as  susceptible  of  indefinite  duration,  so  as 
to  render  sensible  many  gradual  modifications  which  would  be  dis- 
guised from  our  notice  by  the  brevity  of  individual  life.  Astro- 
nomical conditions,  above  all  others,  manifest  their  importance  to 
living  beings  only  by  passing  from  the  individual  to  the  social 
case.  Much  smaller  disturbances  would  visibly  affect  a  social 
condition  than  would  disturb  an  individual  life,  which  requires  a 
smaller  concurrence  of  favorable  circumstances.  For  instance, 
the  dimensions  of  the  globe  are  scientifically  more  important 
in  sociology  than  in  biology,  because  they  set  bounds  to  the 


70  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

ultimate  extension  of  population, — a  circumstance  worthy  of  grave 
consideration  in  any  positive  system  of  political  speculation.  And 
this  is  only  one  case  of  very  many.  If  we  consider,  in  regard  to 
dynamical  conditions,  what  would  be  the  effect  of  any  change 
in  the  degree  of  obliquity  of  the  ecliptic,  in  the  stability  of  the 
poles  of  rotation,  and  yet  more  in  the  eccentricity  of  the  earth's 
orbit,  we  shall  see  that  vast  changes  in  social  life  must  be 
produced  by  causes  which  could  not  endanger  individual  exist- 
ence. One  of  the  first  reflections  that  presents  itself  is  that 
positive  sociology  was  not  possible  till  the  inorganic  philosophy 
had  reached  a  certain  degree  of  precision.  The  very  conception 
of  stability  in  human  association  could  not  be  positively  estab- 
lished till  the  discovery  of  gravitation  had  assured  us  of  the  per- 
manence of  the  conditions  of  life  ;  and  till  physics  and  chemistry 
had  taught  us  that  the  surface  of  our  planet  has  attained  a 
natural  condition  too  rare  and  too  partial,  apart  from  accidents, 
to  affect  our  estimate ;  or,  at  least,  that  the  crust  of  the  globe 
admits  of  only  variations  so  limited  and  so  gradual  as  not  to 
interfere  with  the  natural  course  of  social  development,  —  a 
development  which  could  not  be  hoped  for  under  any  liability  to 
violent  and  frequent  physico-chemical  convulsions  of  any  extent 
in  the  area  of  human  life.  There  is  thus  more  room  to  appre- 
hend that  inorganic  philosophy  is  not  advanced  enough  to  supply 
the  conditions  of  a  positive  polity,  than  to  suppose  that  any  real 
political  philosophy  can  be  framed  in  independence  of  inorganic 
science.  We  have  seen  before,  however,  that  there  is  a  perpetual 
accordance  between  the  possible  and  the  indispensable.  What 
we  must  have  we  are  able  to  obtain ;  and  if  there  are,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  mutual  action  of  different  starry  systems,  cosmical 
ideas  which  are  inaccessible  to  us,  we  know  in  regard  to  soci- 
ology now,  as  to  biology  before,  that  they  are  of  no  practical 
importance  to  us.  Wherever  we  look,  over  the  whole  field  of 
science,  we  shall  find  that,  amidst  the  great  imperfection  of 
inorganic  philosophy,  it  is  sufficiently  advanced  in  all  essential 
respects  to  contribute  to  the  constitution  of  true  social  science, 
if  we  only  have  the  prudence  to  postpone  to  a  future  time  inves- 
tigations which  would  now  be  premature. 


IV 

THE  GENERAL  DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  SOCIOL- 
OGY AND  THE  SPECIFIC  SOCIAL  SCIENCES1 

Sociology  as  the  science  of  society  confines  itself  strictly  to 
human  association.  It  aims  to  show  what  is  meant  by  associa- 
tion, how  it  is  brought  about,  to  what  process  of  development 
it  is  subject,  and  what  results  it  produces.  Three  questions 
respecting  human  society  are  supreme  :  What  ?  Why  ?  How  ? 
Since  human  association  itself  is  our  aim,  it  is  evident  that  the 
stress  is  not  to  be  placed  on  any  particular  kind  of  association. 
The  subject  is  so  large  that  we  shall  be  obliged  to  confine  our- 
selves to  the  general  principles  of  society  and  to  their  general 
application. 

In  thus  aiming  at  what  marks  human  association  as  character- 
istic we  also  aim  at  what  marks  every  particular  form  of  human 
society.  If  personal  forces  are  the  constituent  elements  of  asso- 
ciation, then  these  forces  must  constitute  every  kind  of  society 
formed.  The  forces  may  differ  in  kind,  in  number,  in  intensity, 
and  in  degree  of  development ;  but  no  society  can  exist  other- 
wise than  by  virtue  of  these  forces.  The  personal  forces  exist 
only  in  individuals  ;  therefore  the  idea  of  society  includes  that 
of  individuals  as  possessors  of  the  social  forces.  In  a  society  for 
physical  culture,  for  mental  culture,  for  political  ends,  and  for 
any  purpose  imaginable,  the  prime  question  pertains  to  the 
character  of  the  personal  forces  involved.  Just  as  being  includes 
all  being,  but  only  in  the  most  general  sense  as  being,  so  asso- 
ciation includes  every  society,  but  only  in  its  most  general  sense. 

Here,  then,  is  the  broad  difference  between  social  science  itself 
and  the  specific  social  sciences  :  the  former  discusses  whatever 

1  From  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Sociology,  by  J.  H.  W.  Stuckenberg 
PP-  75-77  (copyright,  1898,  by  A.  C.  Armstrong  &  Son,  New  York). 

71 


72  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

belongs  to  society  as  society  and  applies  the  general  ideas 
obtained  to  the  different  associations ;  but  each  special  social 
science  confines  itself  to  a  particular  phase  of  society.  While 
sociology  deals  with  the  great  principles  or  essences  of  associa- 
tion, and  shows  how  they  apply  to  all  society,  the  specific  social 
sciences  specialize  certain  forms  of  association  and  give  an 
account  of  their  specific  characteristics.  More  details  are  there- 
fore to  be  expected  in  the  limited  social  sciences  than  in  the 
general  social  science. 

Let  us  suppose  that  sociology  gives  a  principiant  account  of 
the  nature  and  working  of  the  social  forces ;  that  would  be  a 
general  interpretation  of  society.  Among  them  are  found  indus- 
trial forces,  which  are  consigned  to  economics  for  special  treat- 
ment; there  are  also  political  forces,  which  are  consigned  to 
political  science ;  there  are  ethical  forces,  which  are  consigned 
to  ethics  ;  and  so  with  all  the  other  social  forces.  Sociology  is 
therefore  the  general  social  science  of  which  the  special  social 
sciences  are  differentiations  ;  it  is  the  genus  of  which  they  are 
the  species,  the  trunk  on  which  they  are  the  branches.  While 
each  social  science  has  its  specific  sphere  (the  operation  of  speci- 
fic social  forces),  it  is  not  within  the  province  of  any  one  of  them 
to  determine  what  association  itself  is  and  how  the  various  forms 
of  society  are  related  to  it ;  that  is  the  mission  of  the  more  gen- 
eral science,  sociology. 

After  indicating  the  general  relation  of  sociology  to  the 
special  social  disciplines,  we  now  proceed  to  consider  the  rela- 
tion of  some  of  the  latter  to  our  subject. 

POLITICAL  SCIENCE  1 

Various  limited  societies  have  tried  to  absorb  society  itself 
and  put  themselves  in  its  place.  In  the  gens  or  the  tribe,  as  an 
enlarged  family,  it  is  the  family  which  embodies  the  social  idea. 
Perhaps  the  members  knew  no  other  association.  In  Judaism 
and  the  Middle  Ages  the  theocracy,  the  kingdom  of  God,  or  the 
church,  is  viewed  as  the  essence  of  society.  We  can  understand 

1  From  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Sociology,  pp.  78-81. 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  73 

why  Aristotle  defines  man  as  a  political  animal,  when  we 
remember  how  the  individual  was  thought  to  exist  for  the  state. 

A  part  is  put  for  the  whole.  It  is  a  common  mistake  to  concen- 
trate the  attention  on  a  dominant  or  specially  prized  feature  and 
lose  sight  of  the  rest.  Thus  a  fixed  idea  is  made  the  sole  idea. 

We  have  seen  that  the  development  of  society  beyond  the 
political  sphere  was  the  condition  for  a  larger  conception  of 
society.  For  us  the  state  is  but  an  arc  in  the  social  circle.  Such 
an  exclusive  prominence  may,  however,  still  be  given  to  the 
state  as  to  make  it  difficult  for  independent  or  voluntary  associa- 
tions to  receive  recognition,  or  to  be  deemed  of  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  justify  social  science  as  distinct  from  politics.  What  is 
left  for  sociology  in  such  cases  when  the  state  absorbs  the 
church,  regulates  the  family,  and  determines  the  limits  of  asso- 
ciative action  ?  By  making  the  state  everything,  other  societies 
become  nothing.  Governments  have  at  times  been  disposed  to 
suppress  voluntary  associations,  for  fear  they  might  interfere 
with  the  prerogatives  of  the  state,  threaten  its  supremacy,  or 
endanger  its  very  existence.  A  governmental  paternalism  which 
aims  so  to  control  the  affairs  of  the  people  that  there  may  be  no 
occasion  for  independent  associative  action  hinders  the  organi- 
zation of  voluntary  societies.  Thus  associations  distinct  from  the 
state  require  a  certain  degree  of  prominence  and  importance  in 
order  to  receive  recognition  and  to  deserve  special  treatment. 
In  the  very  condition  of  society  a  reason  is  found  for  those  his- 
torians who  have  made  history  consist  chiefly  of  the  state,  its 
monarchs  and  officials,  its  diplomacy  and  its  wars. 

While  we  thus  understand  the  exclusive  attention  to  the  state 
as  the  most  perfect  organization,  yet  throughout  history,  and 
particularly  in  modern  times,  we  find  numerous  open  and  secret 
associations  which  are  not  included  in  political  science.  This  is 
the  more  evident  now  since  the  conception  of  society  has  been 
enlarged  to  include  all  kinds  of  association,  not  merely  formal 
organizations.  Even  in  its  largest  sense  the  state  cannot  embrace 
all  societies  as  constituent  parts  of  the  body  politic.  From  the 
political  forces  numerous  other  social  energies  must  be  differen- 
tiated. The  action  of  some  of  these  the  state  may  sanction  by 


74  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

its  laws  ;  the  action  of  others  may  be  left  free,  neither  requiring 
nor  receiving  recognition. 

Society  existed  before  the  state  was  formed.  In  what  sense 
would  that  society  be  included  in  political  science  ?  Then  we 
have  not  one  state  but  many  states,  and  the  inclusion  of  all 
requires  a  science  of  international  politics.  But  would  such  a 
comprehensive  science  include  all  nonpolitical  associations  and 
the  whole  of  humanity  ?  Some  organizations,  as  churches, 
masonic  and  other  lodges,  and  industrial  societies,  extend  beyond 
the  limits  of  a  state  or  even  of  all  states,  reaching  out  to  individ- 
uals and  tribes  not  in  a  state.  How  can  these  be  made  a  part 
of  political  science  ? 

The  science  of  politics  needs  differentiation  from  sociology 
and  the  other  social  sciences,  in  order  that  its  own  peculiar 
sphere  may  be  made  more  distinct.  The  function  of  the  state  is 
among  the  most  momentous  problems  of  the  times,  but  this 
function  can  be  distinctly  brought  out  only  when  contrasted  with 
the  other  social  forces.  In  Russia  the  government  aims  to  make 
society,  in  the  United  States  society  makes  the  government ;  in 
Russia  the  progress  of  voluntary  association  is  a  menace  to  the 
government,  in  the  United  States  independent  organizations 
may  ignore  the  very  existence  of  the  government.  Neither 
theoretically  nor  practically  is  there  agreement  respecting  the 
limits  of  the  state  and  its  relation  to  voluntary  association. 

The  science  of  politics  confines  itself  to  the  state,  explaining 
its  structure  and  functions,  marking  the  peculiarity  of  its  organi- 
zation as  distinguished  from  other  societies,  treating  of  the  rela- 
tions of  the  citizens  to  one  another  and  to  the  state,  and  of 
the  government  to  the  governed,  the  constitution  and  laws,  and 
all  that  belongs  to  the  domain  of  national  life.  Some  have 
questioned,  as  intimated  above,  whether  the  state  ought  to  be 
included  in  sociology  or  treated  separately  as  outside  of  society. 
It  is  unquestionably  a  form  of  association,  and  therefore  within 
the  scope  of  sociology  ;  but  it  is  only  one  of  many  social  forms, 
and  therefore  political  science  cannot  take  the  place  of  the 
science  of  society.  The  distinctive  elements  in  the  state, 
the  peculiar  authority  it  exercises,  and  the  vast  importance  of 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES 


75 


the  subject  must  receive  full  recognition.  Its  sphere  is  that  of 
collective  authority  and  coercion ;  the  sphere  of  other  societies 
is  that  of  cooperation.  Owing  to  the  importance  and  extent  of 
politics  it  has  become  a  special  science ;  it  is,  however,  a  social 
science,  which  indicates  its  intimate  relation  to  sociology.  The 
state  of  the  people  is  society  in  a  truer  sense  than  when  the  state 
is  treated  as  an  abstraction,  or  as  a  power  hovering  over  the 
people,  to  which  unconditional  submission  is  required.  We  can 
indeed  distinguish  between  social  and  political,  referring  the  latter 
to  all  that  pertains  to  the  state,  and  the  former  to  society  as  dis- 
tinct from  the  state ;  but  reflection  shows  that  political  action  is 
social  action  as  organized  in  the  form  of  collective  authority. 
The  state,  whatever  its  particular  form  and  whoever  exercises 
the  authority,  is  sovereignty.  The  functions  and  limits  of  the 
sovereignty  are  among  the  most  important  questions  of  the  day. 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY  1 

The  effort  to  make  a  social  science  the  social  science  has  been 
especially  strong  in  political  economy.  So  long  as  social  science 
did  not  exist,  but  its  need  was  deeply  felt,  it  was  not  strange  that 
a  social  study  deemed  of  supreme  importance  should  be  treated 
as  the  missing  discipline.  Particularly  is  this  exaltation  of  eco- 
nomics natural  at  a  time  when  material  interests  are  absorbing. 
Then  political  economy  is  apt  to  be  regarded  as  not  only  fur- 
nishing the  basis  of  social  'being  but  as  also  determining  those 
interests  which  pertain  to  social  well-being.  At  such  times  agri- 
cultural, industrial,  and  financial  affairs  are  treated  as  the  chief 
concerns  of  the  state,  as  if,  when  they  are  attended  to,  all  other 
things  will  take  care  of  themselves.  It  is  hardly  an  exaggeration 
to  affirm  that  during  the  nineteenth  century  political  economy 
has  been  the  gospel  of  the  leading  industrial  nations,  the  deter- 
mining factor  in  individual  and  social  life.  Men  have  made  wealth 
their  divinity  and  its  pursuit  their  religion.  Political  economy  is 
to  our  age  what  politics  was  to  Greece  and  Rome,  and  theology 
to  the  Middle  Ages.  And  when  society  passes  from  the  dominant 

1  From  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Sociology,  pp.  84-86. 


76  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

political  and  theological  to  the  economic  stage,  what  wonder  that 
political  economy  is  made  the  social  science  ? 

Carl  Marx,  Friedrich  Engels,  and  the  social  democracy  give 
such  an  exclusive  preeminence  to  political  economy  as  to  absorb 
in  it  the  state  and  the  whole  of  society.  It  is  not  strange  that 
laborers  whose  existence  is  an  unceasing  struggle  for  the  neces- 
saries of  Me  regard  their  industrial  redemption  as  involving  their 
entire  social  salvation.  It  must  also  be  remembered  that  many 
students  come  from  political  economy  as  their  specialty  to  soci- 
ology, so  that  their  sociological  theories  are  naturally  affected  by 
their  economics. 

Other  factors  have  cooperated  to  reduce  Aristotle's  "  political 
animal "  to  an  industrial  animal,  and  to  transform  the  science  of 
economics  into  the  science  of  society.  The  marvelous  progress 
of  natural  science  has  given  prominence  to  material  interests  and 
wonderfully  stimulated  invention  ;  this,  together  with  the  indus- 
trial development  since  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  has 
made  ours  the  era  of  political  economy. 

One  reason  for  creating  social  science  is  found  in  the  necessity 
of  showing  that  man  is  more  than  a  beast  of  burden  and  has  other 
than  material  interests.  The  new  science  will  relegate  political 
economy  to  its  proper  place,  that  is,  at  the  bottom,  the  founda- 
tion. Society  in  order  to  live  and  accomplish  life's  purpose  must 
have  bread.  We  cannot  build  without  a  foundation,  yet  the 
foundation  is  not  the  house  ;  but  the  importance  of  the  founda- 
tion is  heightened  by  increasing  the  value  of  the  superstructure. 
Political  economy  is  not  degraded  by  putting  it  at  the  base  instead 
of  at  the  top  of  society. 

HISTORY  l 

It  has  been  claimed  that  history  covers  essentially  the  same 
ground  which  sociology  proposes  to  occupy.  History,  it  is  said, 
deals  with  all  that  is  significant  in  society  and  has  left  its  impress 
on  the  development  of  humanity,  seeking  to  discover  the  social 
forces,  following  the  process  of  social  evolution,  and  describing 
the  achievements  of  society,  while  the  individual  is  considered 

1  From  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Sociology,  pp.  88-91. 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  77 

only  so  far  as  he  leaves  a  permanent  effect  on  human  thought 
and  life.  History  includes  social  action,  the  establishment  and 
development  of  institutions,  the  course  of  politics,  the  theories 
of  political  economy  prevalent  at  different  times,  and  social 
phenomena  in  general.  A  specialty  can  be  made  of  the  organ- 
ization and  evolution  of  society  among  a  particular  people  or  in 
the  world.  But  indispensable  as  history  is  for  the  student  of 
sociology,  it  cannot  construct  for  him  a  social  science.  Some 
writers  on  sociology  have  devoted  so  much  attention  to  the 
description  and  history  of  society  that  the  impression  may  be 
made  that  there  is  little  else  in  the  subject.  The  student  will 
obtain  the  right  point  of  view  by  discriminating  between  the  aim 
of  the  historian  and  that  of  the  sociologist.  The  former  does  not 
propose  to  construct  but  to  describe  systems.  So  long  as  no  social 
science  exists,  the  historian  cannot  determine  the  relation  which 
events  sustain  to  it.  He  does  not  invent  mathematics  or  science 
or  philosophy ;  only  as  they  exist  and  exert  an  influence  is  it  his 
province  to  give  an  account  of  them.  But  the  sociologist  does 
not  merely  describe  society  and  seek  the  causes  of  its  phenomena ; 
he  wants  to  construct  a  social  system  such  as  has  yet  no  histor- 
ical existence.  His  work  is  that  of  a  scientist  or  philosopher ; 
from  the  material  furnished  by  the  historian  and  by  observation 
he  draws  the  principles  of  society  and  infers  the  social  laws, 
a  process  entirely  different  from  that  whose  end  is  historical 
inquiry.  The  historian  may  give  an  account  of  the  philosophies 
of  Plato,  Aristotle,  Kant,  and  Hegel ;  but  it  would  be  as  reason- 
able to  expect  him  to  construct  them  as  to  become  the  founder 
of  sociology.  As  the  science  of  society  lies  nowhere  in  history, 
we  cannot  look  to  the  historian  to  discover  it  there. 

That  historic  discipline  which  comes  nearest  covering  the  same 
ground  as  sociology  is  what  the  Germans  call  Kulturgeschichte, 
a  history  of  culture  or  of  civilization.  This  has  been  developed 
independently  by  German  scholars  and  dates  back  farther  than 
sociology.  It  aims  to  give  a  history  of  social  evolution,  tracing 
the  various  stages  of  culture  through  which  humanity  passed 
until  the  present  degree  of  civilization  was  attained.  If  by 
this  method  historic  laws  of  development  are  discovered,  much 


78  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

that  certain  sociologists  have  particularly  emphasized  will  be 
accomplished.  Why  cannot  this  "culture  history,"  as  some  have 
claimed,  take  the  place  of  sociology? 

The  reason  given  above,  that  sociology  is  not  an  historical  dis- 
cipline, furnishes  the  answer.  The  tendency  to  reduce  it  to  that 
is,  however,  significant  and  reveals  a  dominant  characteristic  of 
our  times.  A  large  class  of  persons  may  be  designated  as  mere 
observers  and  empiric  investigators,  in  distinction  from  rational 
inquirers  and  philosophic  thinkers.  Facts  are  gathered  and  clas- 
sified and  statistics  accumulated  till  we  know  not  what  to  do  with 
them;  this  they  regard  as  all  that  is  required.  Their  work  is 
essential,  but  only  a  beginning.  Laws  and  principles  and  systems 
are  not  picked  up  from  the  surface  of  facts  ;  they  are  intellectual 
constructions,  a  philosophy  of  the  facts.  The  student  must  be  a 
thinker  in  order  to  become  a  sociologist.  Those  who  cannot  dis- 
tinguish between  a  history  of  culture  and  a  system  of  culture, 
between  a  history  and  a  science  of  society,  are  as  rational  as  the 
empiric  who  takes  a  history  of  human  conduct  for  a  system  of 
ethics.  The  sociologist  is  not  merely  intent  on  discovering  what 
the  social  facts  are ;  he  also  insists  on  knowing  what  they  imply ; 
he  listens  to  what  things  say,  and  from  this  he  tries  to  learn 
what  they  mean.  Underlying  the  superficial  trend,  now  so  com- 
mon, is  the  false  supposition  that  the  history  of  an  object  is  its 
exhaustive  interpretation.  Many  do  not  study  philosophy  per  se, 
but  its  history,  and  then  imagine  that  they  understand  philosophy, 
a  conceit  which  would  vanish  if  they  truly  became  philosophers. 
An  intelligent  study  of  the  history  of  science,  of  theology,  of  law, 
and  of  other  disciplines  implies  a  knowledge  of  these  subjects. 
This  is  true  of  disciplines  which  have  a  long  history;  but  soci- 
ology is  yet  to  be  constructed,  and  therefore  can  be  still  less 
completely  studied  in  its  history  than  the  older  disciplines. 

The  difference  between  the  genesis  of  a  subject  and  its  critical 
interpretation  is  important.  Scarcely  any  discrimination  is  more 
essential  than  that  between  history  and  observation,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  philosophic  effort  which,  on  the  other,  constructs 
a  rational  system.  This  will  become  more  evident  in  the  discus- 
sion of  method.  Fortunately  there  are  evidences  that  the  day  is 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  79 

waning  when  sensation  was  taken  for  thinking,  and  when  men 
feared  that  by  an  intellectual  mastery  of  things  they  were  in 
danger  of  losing  the  grip  of  their  reality.  The  rational  element 
in  philosophy,  science,  and  in  any  system  of  thought  adheres 
strictly  to  fact,  but  interprets  the  fact,  relates  it,  goes  to  its 
source  and  results,  and  thus,  by  its  explanation,  brings  out  the 
true  reality  in  place  of  what  only  seems  to  be  reality.  It  is  the 
science  of  society  which  makes  us  truly  the  possessors  of  society, 
intellectually  its  masters.  What  has  been  said  will  not,  there- 
fore, be  taken  as  an  indication  that  we  can  evolve,  speculatively, 
from  our  brains  systems  without  facts.  History  receives  its 
proper  place,  and  this  cannot  be  the  means  of  depreciating  its 
importance. 

SOCIATION1 

Men  are  not,  and  cannot  be,  literally  united  in  society ;  we  say 
they  are,  but  then  we  must  define  exactly  what  we  mean.  Their 
bodies  are  not  united,  their  minds  do  not  coalesce ;  they  remain 
distinct  as  personalities.  The  individual  personality  in  the  same 
man  remains  distinct  from  his  social  personality ;  the  strong  man 
may  at  the  same  time  grow  in  individuality  and  in  sociality.  In 
his  private  life  (in  all  that  pertains  to  him  solely  as  an  indi- 
vidual) the  individual  personality  of  a  man  acts  ;  in  society,  the 
social  personality.  After  what  has  been  said,  we  shall  not  be 
misunderstood  in  stating  that  society  consists  of  social  person- 
alities as  distinguished  from  individual  or  private  personalities. 
This  is  only  another  way  of  saying  what  was  said  before,  —  that 
society  does  not  consist,  strictly  speaking,  of  individuals,  but 
only  of  so  much  of  them  as  is  associated.  "  Social  "  we  use  here 
in  the  sense  of  all  personal  powers  which  act  on  others,  whether 
cooperatively  or  antagonistically. 

In  order  to  make  clear  the  notion  that  society  consists  not  of 
(undiscriminated)  personalities  but  of  social  personalities,  a  new 
word  is  needed,  a  word  to  designate  what  men  share,  what  asso- 
ciates them,  what  interacts  as  a  social  force.  Association  refers 
to  the  associative  factor,  and  would  designate  what  we  aim  to 

1  From  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Sociology,  pp.  126-136. 


80  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

mark  as  distinct,  were  that  word  confined  to  the  associative  ele- 
ment as  the  essence  of  society.  Association  is,  however,  used  for 
a  union  of  men,  thus  promoting  the  old  error  that  men  are  united. 
But  we  seek  a  term  which  rejects  the  old  error,  which  gives 
the  idea  of  association,  but  confines  this  association  to  what  is 
actually  associated.  Now  it  happens  that  "  sociate  "  is  used  in  the 
same  sense  as  "  associate  ";  but  "  sociation  "  is  not  in  use.  This 
noun  we  now  form.  We  use  it  to  designate  those  personal  forces 
which  interact  between  men  ;  to  indicate  what  men  share,  what 
associates.  It  stands  for  all  that  makes  society  as  distinguished 
from  the  sum  of  individuals.  Sociation  thus  gives  the  essence  of 
society  (that  which  makes  society  society),  and  differentiates  it 
from  all  other  objects.  So  far  as  the  personality  is  concerned, 
this  new  term  distinguishes  between  the  private  and  the  social 
factors  in  men.  Sociation  deals  exclusively  with  the  social  per- 
sonality. Regarding  a  man  as  social  plus  private,  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  latter  but  to  eliminate  it  from  the  sphere  of  its 
inquiries.  When  we  say  that  certain  elements  in  men  are  extra- 
social,  we  do  not  mean  that  they  are  necessarily  antisocial,  but 
only  that  they  do  not  belong  to  the  social  energies  which  con- 
stitute society.  Sociation  expresses  the  associative  energies  as 
distinct  from  what  is  not  associative.  In  association  men  are 
conceived  as  the  dominant  factors,  but  in  sociation  the  forces  in 
men  which  become  social  are  dominant.  The  opposite  of  associa- 
tion is  men  in  isolation;  the  opposite  of  sociation  is  individual 
powers  unassociated.  Thus  sociation  always  considers  individuals 
only  so  far  as  they  have  associative  interactive  factors,  leaving  a 
large  realm  of  the  individual  unconsidered. 

Suppose  I  have  a  dozen  steel  horseshoe  magnets  lying  on  my 
table,  for  the  purpose  of  studying  magnetism.  How  do  I  con- 
template them  ?  Simply  so  far  as  they  are  magnets,  —  so  far  as 
their  poles  have  attractive  and  repulsive  forces.  The  fact  that 
the  magnets  are  steel  concerns  me  only  so  far  as  steel  is  related 
to  the  magnetic  forces.  I  might  consider  the  steel  by  itself,  its 
composition,  its  origin,  its  quality,  its  weight,  its  relation  to  other 
metals,  etc. ;  but  then  I  should  have  to  enter  other  departments 
than  that  of  magnetism.  The  steel  in  one  horseshoe  does  not 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  8 1 

pass  over  to  the  steel  in  another  horseshoe ;  it  is  only  the  mag- 
netic force  that  interacts;  this  I  abstract  from  the  steel  itself 
and  make  the  object  of  inquiry. 

Let  the  twelve  horseshoes  represent  twelve  individuals.  Soci- 
ation  does  not  consider  them  as  individuals,  but  only  that  in 
them  which  interacts  between  them;  it  drops  the  individuals 
as  individuals,  for  the  purpose  of  concentrating  the  attention 
on  the  attractive  and  repulsive  forces  of  their  magnetism  which 
constitute  society. 

Sociation  therefore  deals  with  social  energy  and  with  indi- 
viduals only  as  repositories  of  this  energy. 

In  some  cases  the  bond  of  union  is  so  definite  and  simple  as  to 
be  at  once  apparent.  In  a  society  for  vocal  culture  or  in  a  choir, 
in  an  art  society  or  in  a  scientific  association,  in  an  economic 
combination  or  labor  union,  the  specific  and  limited  character  of 
the  aim  and  of  the  force  exercised  is  unmistakable.  In  every 
such  instance,  especially  in  a  choir,  it  is  striking  that  the  associa- 
tion is  of  individuals  only  as  the  possessors  of  the  particular 
force  used. 

By  thus  making  society  consist  of  what  is  actually  social, 
really  interactive,  and  of  nothing  else,  we  get  the  fundamental 
knowledge  respecting  the  relation  of  individuals  to  society.  Those 
who  say  that  society  consists  of  individuals,  and  mean  what  they 
say,  cannot  discriminate  between  what  is  individual  and  what 
social  in  the  same  personality.  If  society  is  truly  an  organism  of 
individuals,  the  totality  of  the  individuals  must  be  absorbed  by 
the  organism.  Others,  however,  emphasize  the  individual  to  the 
neglect  of  the  organism,  as  if  he  had  no  essential  social  relations. 
The  conflict  ceases  so  soon  as  society  is  discovered  to  consist 
only  of  so  much  of  individuals  as  is  socially  interactive.  Only 
that  part  of  me  which  is  literary  belongs  to  the  literary  soci- 
ety which  I  help  to  form  ;  all  in  me  that  is  not  literary  is  not 
absorbed  by  the  society,  but  belongs  to  another  sphere.  Since 
there  is  an  individual  (private)  personality  distinct  from  the  social 
personality,  a  man  cannot  properly  be  called  an  organ  of  society, 
because  he  is  something  besides  such  an  organ  ;  he  has  elements 
which  are  not  social.  The  individual  is  an  organ  of  society  in  the 


82  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

same  sense  that  the  Capitol  in  Washington  is  a  senate  chamber. 
It  is  a  senate  chamber,  but  also  much  more. 

Our  view  of  sociation  as  distinct  from  association  is  proved 
correct  by  applying  it  to  various  social  forms  and  controver- 
sies. Not  only  does  it  give  new  interpretations  of  what  is  oth- 
erwise obscure,  but  it  also  settles  certain  disputes  otherwise 
interminable. 

Let  us  apply  the  explanation  here  given  to  the  old  dispute 
between  individualism  and  socialism.  The  point  is  whether  the 
individual  or  society  shall  be  regarded  as  supreme.  Special  prom- 
inence is  given  to  the  subject  in  economics  in  connection  with 
the  laissez-faire  theory.  So  long  as  the  individual  is  considered 
in  his  totality  as  a  personality  the  controversy  cannot  be  settled, 
because  as  such  he  is  independent  of  society  and  also  dependent. 

But  analyze  the  personality ;  recognize  certain  elements  in  the 
man  which  he  shares  with  others,  and  which  thus  become  social, 
while  other  elements  remain  individual  and  private  ;  then  the 
question  is  settled.  It  is  at  once  seen  that  in  that  case  individu- 
alism and  socialism  are  no  longer  antagonistic,  but  each  has  a 
sphere  in  which  it  is  supreme.  There  is  a  realm  which  belongs  to 
a  man  as  an  individual,  —  his  intellect,  his  conscience,  his  feelings, 
his  private  affairs.  This  realm  as  the  sphere  of  individual  free- 
dom and  individual  rights  is  to  be  guarded  sacredly  against 
intrusion  and  interference.  He  may  be  instructed  and  persuaded, 
but  in  these  sacredly  personal  affairs  he  cannot  be  coerced.  This 
every  just  law  recognizes.  Here  individualism  reigns  and  must 
maintain  its  dominion. 

The  same  individual,  however,  has  a  definite  relation  to  society, 
and  the  social  elements  in  him  are  as  distinctly  marked  as  the  pri- 
vate. As  a  social  personality  he  moves  in  the  realm  where 
socialism  reigns ;  that  is,  social  laws  prevail  here,  just  as  personal 
or  private  laws  in  the  other  realm.  If  he  wants  to  speak  with 
his  fellows,  he  must  use  their  language  ;  he  must  adapt  himself  to 
them  or  them  to  himself  (both  processes  are  social),  in  order 
to  associate  with  them.  In  other  words,  he  must  adapt  himself 
to  social  laws  in  the  social  sphere.  He  may  go  as  he  pleases 
while  alone,  but  in  a  crowd  he  must  go  with  the  crowd,  or  as  it 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  83 

sees  fit  to  let  him  go.  If  he  takes  the  left  side  of  the  bridge  at 
Dresden  to  cross  the  Elbe,  he  is  jostled  by  the  crowd  coming  the 
other  way.  Every  few  steps  he  is  greeted  with  "  Rechts  geken," 
and  if  he  does  not  go  to  the  right,  —  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bridge,  —  a  policeman  may  take  him  there,  in  order  that  he 
may  move  with  and  not  against  the  multitude.  This  is  but  an 
illustration  of  the  proverb  that  in  Rome  one  must  do  as  the 
Romans  do. 

Since,  therefore,  individualism  and  socialism  are  both  justified, 
having  distinct  spheres  instead  of  being  antagonistic,  the  old 
controversy  as  to  which  shall  prevail  is  settled.  Both  are  to  pre- 
vail, but  each  in  its  specific  sphere.  As  a  principle,  each 
becomes  false  and  unjust  only  when  it  encroaches  on  the  sphere 
of  the  other.  The  new  problem  which  confronts  us  in  place  of 
the  old  controversy  is  this  :  How  much  in  the  personality  is 
purely  individual,  a  private  matter  and  therefore  a  man's  own 
affair,  which  society  may  influence  but  cannot  control  ?  And  how 
much  is  social,  belongs  to  society,  and  therefore  subject  to  social 
control ? 

We  now  have  a  law  of  universal  application  to  the  individual 
and  to  society.  The  individual  (so  far  as  social)  acts  on  society 
and  society  acts  on  the  individual,  but  the  line  between  individ- 
ual and  social  control  is  distinctly  marked.  Henceforth  the  aim 
should  be  to  individualize  all  that  is  individual,  and  to  socialize  all 
that  is  social.  Light  is  thus  thrown  likewise  on  education.  The 
individual  is  to  be  developed  to  the  utmost  for  his  own  sake  ; 
education  is  to  aim  at  the  best  personality.  He  has  value  in  him- 
self, and  this  value  is  to  be  unfolded  to  the  greatest  worthiness. 
But  he  is  also  a  member  of  society,  and  therefore  to  be  educated 
for  social  ends.  His  individual  perfection  and  his  social  per- 
fection are  to  be  organically  united,  so  that  his  individual  per- 
fection makes  him  the  more  perfect  socially,  and  that  his  social 
perfection  exalts  him  as  an  individual. 

The  law  established  applies  to  politics,  to  business,  and  to  all 
social  affairs.  In  every  department  we  must  distinguish  between 
what  is  private  and  what  social  in  the  personality.  It  is  one 
and  the  same  personality,  but  viewed  in  different  aspects  ;  now 


84  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

self-centered,  then  going  out  into  society.  The  demand  is  equally 
imperative  that  there  be  the  greatest  individuality  and  the  most 
perfect  sociality.  Where  the  private  and  the  social  elements  are 
properly  harmonized  the  strongest  individuality  is  likewise  the 
strongest  social  power. 

Our  analysis  of  the  individual  into  private  and  social  functions 
removes  another  common  error.  The  statement  is  constantly 
made  that  by  entering  society  the  individual  sacrifices  some  of 
his  liberty.  Only  if  society  is  false  will  it  demand  that  personal 
liberty  be  sacrificed.  If  it  is  meant  that  in  society  an  individual 
cannot  act  as  if  he  were  isolated,  the  statement  simply  means 
that  he  cannot  act  contrary  to  the  nature  of  things.  In  society  a 
man  cannot  act  as  if  he  were  out  of  society,  for  the  reason  that 
he  is  in  it  and  not  out  of  it.  No  true  society  interferes  with  the 
freedom  inherent  in  man,  but  recognizes  and  encourages  that 
freedom.  By  passing  from  isolation  into  social  relations  the  in- 
dividual changes  his  conditions  but  does  not  lose  his  freedom. 
Personally,  in  his  private  affairs,  he  is  as  free  as  ever  he  was ; 
but  while  he  retains  all  the  real  freedom  he  had  in  isolation,  his 
life  is  augmented  by  entering  society.  Besides  the  real  freedom 
he  retains,  he  now  sustains  social  relations  and  enters  upon  social 
action.  Indeed,  we  may  well  question  whether  freedom  applies 
to  men  isolated.  Freedom  from  what  ?  It  is  in  society,  where 
men  can  maintain  their  views  in  the  face  of  false  restraints,  that 
freedom  manifests  itself. 

Another  error  has  been  promoted  by  the  theory  that  the  indi- 
vidual is  absorbed  by  society.  It  has  been  claimed  that  individu- 
ality will  disappear  as  socialization  advances.  Hardly  a  more  seri- 
ous objection  could  be  urged  against  socialization.  Some  claim 
that  to  associate  is  to  stoop ;  but  in  many  cases  association 
means  exaltation.  Emerson  says  that  in  society  "the  virtue  in 
most  request  is  conformity";  but  by  resisting  foolish  conform- 
ity independence  is  developed.  Tauler  said,  "  I  never  mingled 
with  men  but  I  came  home  less  of  a  man  than  I  went  out."  All, 
however,  are  not  Taulers  ;  his  standard  was  that  of  a  mystic  and 
he  naturally  favored  solitude  ;  and  the  society  accessible  may  not 
have  been  of  the  best. 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  85 

The  objection  that  with  socialization  individuality  vanishes  is 
overthrown  when  the  error  on  which  it  rests  is  exposed.  The 
large  sphere  of  individual  freedom  is  also  the  sphere  of  individ- 
uality. To  rob  a  man  of  his  freedom  by  society  would  make 
society  the  means  of  slavery.  The  perfection  of  society  is  en- 
hanced by  social  forces  backed  by  individuality,  —  forces  which 
prevent  a  dead  monotony  by  promoting  diversity  in  unity.  The 
true  society,  which  distinguishes  between  the  private  and  the 
social  elements  in  the  personality,  encourages  individuality. 

The  view  given  of  sociation  throws  important  light  on  com- 
munism, socialism,  and  all  forms  of  society.  If  society  is  com- 
posed of  individuals,  how  can  society  absorb  the  individuals  ? 
What  is  it,  then,  that  absorbs  the  individuals  ?  There  is  nothing 
but  individuals ;  therefore  they  must  absorb  one  another.  The 
necessary  limit  of  communism  is  what  men  have  in  common. 

Our  explanation  of  society  also  interprets  another  phenome- 
non otherwise  unaccountable.  If  society  depends  on  individuals 
(instead  of  the  social  factors  of  individuals),  how  does  it  happen 
that  often  persons  of  superior  personal  excellence  and  unusual 
development  make  but  poor  society  ?  They  meet  rarely,  are  little 
communicative  when  they  do  meet,  further  no  great  social  inter- 
est, are  perhaps  indifferent  even  to  their  own  community  and 
state.  The  answer  is  that  society  is  not  literally  constituted  of 
men,  but  only  of  their  social  elements,  whose  exercise  may  be 
sadly  neglected.  The  excellent  men  under  consideration  have 
been  developed  individually  but  not  socially;  each  is  imprisoned 
in  his  particular  sphere  and  cannot  enter  that  of  his  fellows. 
Perhaps  abstract  scholarship  so  absorbs  the  attention  that  the 
social  organism  receives  none.  Even  institutions  of  learning  may 
aggregate  rather  than  associate  the  professors.  Thus  personal 
superiority  does  not  involve  social  superiority.  What  men  are 
determines  their  individual  character ;  what  they  share  deter- 
mines their  social  character.  The  sociation  of  personal  forces  is 
not  identical  with  the  association  of  men. 

This  distinction  also  throws  light  on  history.  The  sociation 
of  an  era  is  not  an  absolute  test  of  the  character  of  that  era. 
The  men  may  personally  be  of  a  high  grade,  while  the  sociation 


86  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

is  very  imperfect.  Thus  a  generation  may  be  rich  in  biography 
and  have  little  history;  another  generation  may  be  rich  in  his- 
tory and  poor  in  biography.  A  thousand  strong  men  isolated 
receive  no  attention  in  history,  while  much  attention  may  be 
given  to  a  thousand  men  less  strong  but  organized.  A  million 
laborers  in  a  country  may  be  passed  without  mention  by  the  his- 
torian ;  organized  they  may  form  the  dominant  historic  current. 
In  order  to  compare  one  generation  with  another  we  must  in- 
quire into  the  progress  made  by  sociation  in  them.  A  thousand 
separate  wires  may  be  invisible  at  a  short  distance,  or  so  scat- 
tered that  only  one  is  seen  at  a  time ;  but  wrought  into  a  single 
coil,  it  is  distinctly  visible  and  of  immense  power ;  yet  each  wire 
taken  by  itself  is  no  stronger  than  before.  There  are  degrees  of 
isolation  and  sociation  in  different  ages,  and  they  are  important 
tests  of  the  ages  themselves.  There  is  an  age  of  Louis  XIV, 
because  sociation  in  general  was  so  imperfect ;  hence  by  a  single 
name  that  age  is  characterized  in  France.  Then  the  sociation 
of  revolutionary  forces  took  place,  and  the  French  Revolution 
stands  not  for  a  name  but  for  the  volcanic  energies  of  an  in- 
furiated people. 

The  view  given  of  sociation  shows  why  all  attempts  to  appre- 
hend society  as  an  entity  or  a  discrete  object  have  failed.  Society 
is  not  an  organism  like  a  plant  or  an  animal.  It  is  something 
very  real,  but  not  an  indissoluble  unit.  It  consists  of  forces 
which  change  constantly.  Individuals  come  and  go,  their  social 
energies  vary,  and  thus  society  itself  is  subject  to  change.  Some- 
times the  social  mechanism  is  so  fixed  that  there  is  a  certain 
continuity  even  amid  great  changes  of  individuals,  as  in  certain 
churches,  states,  and  institutions.  When  we  speak  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church  we  mean  a  system  of  theoretical  and  practical  ener- 
gies (doctrines,  institutions,  practices) ;  and  the  millions  who 
belong  to  that  church  we  think  of  as  Catholic  only  so  far  as 
they  are  the  embodiment  of  these  energies. 

Having  now  given  an  explanation  of  sociation  and  its  relation 
to  the  ordinary  sense  of  association,  it  will  henceforth  be  under- 
stood what  we  mean  when  we  use  the  old  terms  and  speak  of 
society  as  composed  of  individuals.  When  we  have  spoken  thus 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES  87 

in  preceding  pages,  the  sense,  after  the  explanation  given,  can- 
not be  mistaken.  Let  association  be  used,  but  let  it  mean  socia- 
tion.  The  beginner  may  find  it  difficult  to  treat  society  as  a 
system  of  forces  ;  but  practice  will  overcome  the  difficulty,  and 
he  will  soon  wonder  how  he  could  ever  imagine  that  society  con- 
sisted of  individuals  as  totalities,  instead  of  the  social  energies  of 
individuals. 

Additional  References: 

Herbert  Spencer,  Classification  of  the  Sciences,  in  Essays :  Scientific, 
Political,  and  Speculative,  Vol.  II.  Herbert  Spencer,  The  Study  of  Soci- 
ology, chaps,  i-iii.  J.  S.  Mill,  System  of  Logic,  Book  VI.  W.  S.  Jevons, 
Principles  of  Science,  chap,  xxxi,  sec.  1 1.  Lester  F.  Ward,  Outlines  of  Soci- 
ology, Part  I.  Emile  Durkheim,  Les  Regies  de  la  Me*thode  Sociologique. 
Guillaume  de  Greef,  Les  Lois  Sociologiques.  Arthur  Fairbanks,  Introduc- 
tion to  Sociology,  Introduction. 


PART  II --SOCIOLOGY  AS  A  STUDY   OF 

SOCIAL  PROGRESS  — THE  DIRECTION 

OF  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


V 

SOCIAL  DYNAMICS ;  OR  THEORY  OF  THE  NATU- 
RAL PROGRESS   OF  HUMAN   SOCIETY1 

THE  ORDER  OF  EVOLUTION 

Though  the  elements  of  our  social  evolution  are  connected 
and  always  acting  on  each  other,  one  must  be  preponderant,  in 
order  to  give  an  impulse  to  the  rest,  though  they  may,  in  their 
turn,  so  act  upon  it  as  to  cause  its  further  expansion.  We  must 
find  out  this  superior  element,  leaving  the  lower  degrees  of  sub- 
ordination to  disclose  themselves  as  we  proceed  ;  and  we  have 
not  to  search  far  for  this  element,  as  we  cannot  err  in  taking 
that  which  can  be  best  conceived  of  apart  from  the  rest,  notwith- 
standing their  necessary  connection,  while  the  consideration  of  it 
would  enter  into  the  study  of  the  others.  This  double  character- 
istic points  out  the  intellectual  evolution  as  the  preponderant 
principle.  If  the  intellectual  point  of  view  was  the  chief  in  our 
statical  study  of  the  organism,  much  more  must  it  be  so  in  the 
dynamical  case.  If  our  reason  required  at  the  outset  the  awak- 
ening and  stimulating  influence  of  the  appetites,  the  passions, 
and  the  sentiments,  not  the  less  has  human  progression  gone  for- 
ward under  its  direction.  It  is  only  through  the  more  and  more 
marked  influence  of  the  reason  over  the  general  conduct  of  man 
and  of  society  that  the  gradual  march  of  our  race  has  attained  that 

1  From  The  Positive  Philosophy  of  Auguste  Comte,  translated  by  Harriet 
Martineau,  Vol.11,  chap,  vi,  pp.  156-180,  London  and  New  York,  1853. 

88 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  89 

regularity  and  persevering  continuity  which  distinguishes  it  so 
radically  from  the  desultory  and  barren  expansion  of  even  the 
highest  of  the  animal  orders,  which  share,  and  with  enhanced 
strength,  the  appetites,  the  passions,  and  even  the  primary  senti- 
ments of  man.  If  the  statical  analysis  of  our  social  organism 
shows  it  resting  at  length  upon  a  certain  system  of  fundamental 
opinions,  the  gradual  changes  of  that  system  must  affect  the 
successive  modifications  of  the  life  of  humanity;  and  this  is 
why,  since  the  birth  of  philosophy,  the  history  of  society  has  been 
regarded  as  governed  by  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  As  it  is 
necessary,  in  a  scientific  sense,  to  refer  our  historical  analysis  to 
the  preponderant  evolution,  whatever  it  may  be,  we  must  in  this 
case  choose,  or  rather  preserve,  the  general  history  of  the  human 
mind  as  the  natural  guide  to  all  historical  study  of  humanity. 
One  consequence  of  the  same  principle  —  a  consequence  as  rig- 
orous but  less  understood  —  is  that  we  must  choose  for  con- 
sideration in  this  intellectual  history  the  most  general  and 
abstract  conceptions,  which  require  the  exercise  of  our  highest 
faculties.  Thus  it  is  the  study  of  the  fundamental  system  of 
human  opinions  with  regard  to  the  whole  of  phenomena  —  in 
short,  the  history  of  philosophy,  whatever  may  be  its  character, 
theological,  metaphysical,  or  positive  —  which  must  regulate  our 
historical  analysis.  No  other  department  of  intellectual  history, 
not  even  the  history  of  the  fine  arts,  including  poetry,  could,  how- 
ever important  in  itself,  be  employed  for  this  object;  because  the 
faculties  of  expression,  which  lie  nearer  to  the  effective  faculties, 
have  always,  in  their  palmiest  days,  been  subordinated,  in  the 
economy  of  social  progress,  to  the  faculties  of  direct  conception. 
The  danger  (which  is  inherent  in  every  choice,  and  which  is  least 
in  the  choice  that  I  have  made)  of  losing  sight  of  the  intercon- 
nection of  all  the  parts  of  human  development  may  be  partly 
guarded  against  by  frequently  comparing  them,  to  see  if  the 
variations  in  any  one  corresponds  with  equivalent  variations  in 
the  others.  I  believe  we  shall  find  that  this  confirmation  is  emi- 
nently obtainable  by  my  method  of  historical  analysis.  This  will 
be  proved  at  once  if  we  find  that  the  development  of  the  highest 
part  of  human  interests  is  in  accordance  with  that  of  the  lowest, 


90  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

—  the  intellectual  with  the  material.  If  there  is  an  accordance 
between  the  two  extremes,  there  must  be  also  between  all  the 
intermediate  terms. 

We  have  indicated  the  general  direction  of  the  human  evolu- 
tion, its  rate  of  progress,  and  its  necessary  order.  We  may  now 
proceed  at  once  to  investigate  the  natural  laws  by  which  the 
advance  of  the  human  mind  proceeds.  The  scientific  principle  of 
the  theory  appears  to  me  to  consist  in  the  great  philosophical  law 
of  the  succession  of  the  three  states,  —  the  primitive  theological 
state,  the  transient  metaphysical,  and  the  final  positive  state,  — 
through  which  the  human  mind  has  to  pass  in  every  kind  of 
speculation.  This  seems  to  be  the  place  in  which  we  should 
attempt  the  direct  estimate  of  this  fundamental  law,  taking  it 
as  the  basis  of  my  historical  analysis,  which  must  itself  have  for 
its  chief  object  to  explain  and  expand  the  general  notion  of  this 
law  by  a  more  and  more  extended  and  exact  application  of  it 
in  the  review  of  the  entire  past  of  human  history.  I  hope  that 
the  frequent  statement  and  application  of  this  law  throughout 
the  preceding  part  of  my  work  will  enable  me  to  condense 
my  demonstration  of  it  here,  without  impairing  its  distinctness 
or  injuring  its  efficacy  in  such  ulterior  use  as  we  shall  have  to 
make  of  it. 

LAW  OF  THE  THREE  PERIODS 

The  reader  is  by  this  time  abundantly  familiar  with  the  inter- 
pretation and  destination  of  the  law.  All  thoughtful  persons  can 
verify  for  themselves  its  operation  in  individual  development, 
from  infancy  to  manhood,  as  I  pointed  out  at  the  beginning 
of  this  work.  We  can  test  it,  as  we  have  tested  other  laws, 
by  observation,  experiment,  and  comparison.  I  have  done  so 
through  many  years  of  meditation,  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  all  these  methods  of  investigation  will  be  found  to  concur  in 
the  complete  establishment  of  this  historical  proposition,  which  I 
maintain  to  be  as  fully  demonstrated  as  any  other  law  admitted 
into  any  other  department  of  natural  philosophy.  Since  the  dis- 
covery of  this  law  of  the  three  periods,  all  positive  philosophers 
have  agreed  on  its  special  adaptation  to  the  particular  science  hi 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  91 

which  each  was  interested,  though  all  have  not  made  the  avowal 
with  equal  openness.  The  only  objections  that  I  have  encoun- 
tered have  related  merely  to  the  universality  of  its  application. 
I  hold  it  to  be  now  implicitly  recognized  with  regard  to  all  the 
sciences  which  are  positive ;  that  is,  the  triple  evolution  is  ad- 
mitted in  regard  to  all  cases  in  which  it  is  accomplished.  It  is 
only  in  regard  to  social  science  that  its  application  is  supposed 
to  be  impossible  ;  and  I  believe  the  objection  to  signify  nothing 
more  than  that  the  evolution  is  in  this  case  incomplete.  Social 
science  has,  with  all  its  complexity,  passed  through  the  theo- 
logical state,  and  has  almost  everywhere  fully  attained  the  meta- 
physical ;  while  it  has  nowhere  yet  risen  to  the  positive,  except 
in  this  book.  I  shall  leave  the  assertion  of  the  law  in  regard  to 
sociology  to  the  demonstration  which  my  analysis  will  afford, 
for  those  who  cannot  perceive  in  this  volume,  as  a  whole,  the 
nascent  realization  of  this  last  philosophical  process  could  not  be 
convinced  by  argument.  Leaving  the  historical  verification  of 
the  law,  therefore,  to  the  reader,  I  invite  attention  to  its  philo- 
sophical explanation.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  succession  of  the 
three  states  is  a  general  fact.  Such  generality  would  go  for  more 
in  any  other  science  than  in  sociology,  because,  as  we  have  seen, 
our  biological  philosophy  enables  us  to  conceive  of  all  the  main 
relations  of  social  phenomena  a  priori,  independently  of  their 
direct  investigation,  and  we  need  confirmation  of  our  conceptions 
by  direct  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  experience.  An  a 
priori  conception  of  a  law  so  important  as  this  is  of  the  deepest 
interest  in  the  study  of  social  dynamics;  and,  to  confirm  it,  we 
must  carefully  mark  the  general  grounds,  derived  from  an  exact 
knowledge,  which  have  rendered  indispensable  on  the  one  hand, 
and  inevitable  on  the  other,  that  succession  of  social  phenomena 
which  take  their  course  under  the  operation  of  this  law.  The 
logical  grounds  have  already  been  assigned  at  the  outset  of  the 
work,  and  repeatedly  since;  and  it  is  with  the  moral  and  social 
that  we  now  have  to  do,  and  we  can  review  them  without  sub- 
jecting ourselves  to  the  reproach  of  severing  the  parts  of  a 
philosophical  demonstration,  which  are  in  their  nature  bound  up 
together  and  therefore  inseparable. 


92  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

THE  THEOLOGICAL  PERIOD 

The  necessity  of  the  intellectual  evolution  I  assert  lies  in  the 
primary  tendency  of  man  to  transfer  the  sense  of  his  own  nature 
into  the  radical  explanation  of  all  phenomena  whatever.  Philoso- 
phers tell  us  of  the  fundamental  difficulty  of  knowing  ourselves ; 
but  this  is  a  remark  which  could  not  have  been  made  till  human 
reason  had  achieved  a  considerable  advance.  The  mind  must 
have  attained  to  a  refined  state  of  meditation  before  it  could  be 
astonished  at  its  own  acts,  —  reflecting  upon  itself  a  speculative 
activity  which  must  be  at  first  incited  by  the  external  world.  If, 
on  the  one  hand,  man  must  begin  by  supposing  himself  the  cen- 
ter of  all  things,  he  must,  on  the  other  hand,  next  set  himself  up 
as  a  universal  type.  The  only  way  that  he  can  explain  any  phe- 
nomena is  by  likening  them,  as  much  as  possible,  to  his  own  acts, 
—  the  only  ones  whose  mode  of  production  he  can  suppose  him- 
self, by  the  accompanying  sensations,  to  understand.  We  may 
therefore  set  up  a  converse  statement  and  say  that  man  knows 
nothing  but  himself;  and  thus  his  philosophy,  in  his  earliest 
stage,  consists  principally  in  transferring  this  spontaneous  unity, 
more  or  less  fortunately,  into  all  subjects  which  may  present 
themselves  to  his  nascent  attention.  It  is  the  highest  proof  of 
his  philosophical  maturity  when  he  can,  at  length,  apply  the 
study  of  external  nature  to  his  own.  When  I  laid  this  down  as 
the  basis  of  biological  philosophy  I  intimated  the  extreme  rarity 
of  such  an  attainment.  At  the  outset,  under  the  inverse  process, 
the  universe  is  always  subordinated  to  man  in  speculative  as 
well  as  in  active  respects.  We  shall  not  have  attained  a  truly 
rational  position  till  we  can  reconcile  these  two  great  philosoph- 
ical views,  at  present  antagonistic,  but  admitting  of  being  made 
mutually  complementary,  and,  in  my  opinion,  prepared  for  being 
so  from  this  time  forward.  Such  a  harmony  is  even  now  barely 
conceivable  in  the  brightest  insight  of  philosophical  genius,  and 
there  could  have  been  no  choice  between  the  two  courses  in  the 
earliest  days  of  human  development.  The  starting  point  must 
have  been  that  which  alone  was  naturally  possible.  This  was  the 
spontaneous  origin  of  the  theological  philosophy,  the  elementary 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  93 

spirit  of  which  consists  in  explaining  the  intimate  nature  of  phe- 
nomena and  their  mode  of  production,  and  in  likening  them  as 
much  as  possible  to  the  acts  of  human  will,  through  our  primary 
tendency  to  regard  all  beings  as  living  a  life  analogous  to  our 
own,  and  often  superior,  from  their  greater  habitual  energy.  This 
procedure  is  so  eminently  exclusive  that  men  are  unable  to  eman- 
cipate themselves  from  it,  even  in  the  most  advanced  stages  of 
evolution,  except  by  abandoning  altogether  these  inaccessible 
researches  and  restricting  themselves  to  the  study  of  the  laws  of 
phenomena,  apart  from  their  causes.  Whenever,  at  this  day,  the 
human  mind  attempts  to  pass  these  inevitable  limits,  it  involun- 
tarily falls  again  into  the  primary  errors,  even  in  regard  to  the 
simplest  phenomena,  because  it  recurs  to  an  aim  and  point  of 
view  essentially  analogous,  in  attributing  the  production  of  phe- 
nomena to  special  volitions  internal  or  more  or  less  external. 
One  case  presents  itself  as  an  example,  of  the  simplest  scientific 
character,  —  that  of  the  memorable  philosophical  error  of  the 
illustrious  Malebranche  in  regard  to  the  explanation  of  the  math- 
ematical laws  of  the  elementary  collision  of  solid  bodies.  If  such 
a  mind,  in  such  an  age,  could  explain  such  a  theory  in  no  other 
way  than  by  an  express  recurrence  to  the  continuous  activity  of 
a  direct  and  special  providence,  we  cannot  doubt  the  tendency 
of  our  reason  towards  a  radically  theological  philosophy  whenever 
we  attempt  to  penetrate,  on  any  ground  whatever,  the  intimate 
nature  of  phenomena. 

INTELLECTUAL  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  PHILOSOPHY 

The  inevitableness  of  the  theological  philosophy  is  its  most 
radical  property  and  the  first  cause  of  its  long  ascendency.  We 
have  seen  before  that  it  was  necessary,  as  the  only  possible 
beginning  of  our  intellectual  evolution,  for  the  facts  which  must 
form  the  basis  of  a  positive  theory  could  not  be  collected  to  any 
purpose  without  some  preliminary  theory  which  should  guide 
their  collection.  Our  understanding  cannot  act  without  some 
doctrine,  false  or  true,  vague  or  precise,  which  may  concentrate 
and  stimulate  its  efforts  and  afford  ground  for  enough  speculative 


94 

continuity  to  sustain  our  mental  activity.  Our  meteorological 
observations,  as  we  call  them,  show  us  how  useless  may  be  vast 
.compilations  of  facts,  and  how  really  unmeaning,  while  we  are 
destitute  of  any  theory  whatever.  Those  who  expect  that  the 
theory  will  be  suggested  by  the  facts  do  not  understand  what  is 
the  course  necessarily  pursued  by  the  human  mind,  which  has 
achieved  all  real  results  by  the  only  effectual  method,  —  of  antici- 
pating scientific  observations  by  some  conception  (hypothetical 
in  the  first  instance)  of  the  corresponding  phenomena.  Such  a 
necessity  has  already  been  shown  to  be  especially  marked  in  the 
case  of  social  speculations,  not  only  from  their  complexity  but 
from  the  peculiarity  that  a  long  preparatory  development  of  the 
human  mind  and  of  society  constitutes-  the  phenomena  of  the  case, 
independently  of  all  preparation  of  observers  and  all  accumula- 
tion of  observations.  It  may  be  worth  observing  that  all  the 
partial  verifications  of  this  fundamental  proposition  that  we  meet 
with  in  the  different  sciences  confirm  each  other,  on  account  of 
our  tendency  to  unity  of  method  and  homogeneousness  of  doc- 
trine, which  would  incline  us  to  extend  the  theological  philosophy 
from  one  class  of  speculations  to  another,  even  if  we  should  not 
so  treat  each  one  of  them  separately. 

The  original  and  indispensable  office  of  the  theological  philos- 
ophy is  then  to  lead  forth  the  human  mind  from  the  vicious  circle 
in  which  it  was  confined  by  the  two  necessities  of  observing  first 
in  order  to  form  conceptions  and  of  forming  theories  first  in 
order  to  observe.  The  theological  philosophy  afforded  an  issue 
by  likening  all  phenomena  whatever  to  human  acts, — directly  in 
the  first  instance,  by  supposing  all  bodies  to  have  a  life  more  or 
less  like  our  own,  and  indirectly  afterwards  by  means  of  the 
more  durable  and  suggestive  hypothesis  which  adds  to  the  visible 
system  of  things  an  invisible  world  peopled  by  superhuman 
agents,  who  occasion  all  phenomena  by  their  action  on  matter 
otherwise  inert.  The  second  stage  is  especially  suitable  to  the 
human  mind  which  begins  to  feel  its  difficulties  and  its  needs ; 
for  every  new  phenomenon  is  accounted  for  by  the  supposition 
of  a  fresh  volition  in  the  ideal  agent  concerned,  or,  at  most, 
by  the  easy  creation  of  a  new  agent.  However  futile  these 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  95 

speculations  may  now  appear,  we  must  remember  that  in  all  times 
and  everywhere  they  have  awakened  buman  thought  by  offering 
to  it  the  only  material  which  it  could  at  first  accept.  Besides 
that  there  was  no  choice,  the  infant  reason  can  be  interested 
by  nothing  but  sublime  solutions  obtained  without  any  deep  and 
sustained  conflict  of  thought.  We  at  this  day  find  ourselves 
able  after  suitable  trainkig  to  devote  ourselves  to  the  study  of 
the  laws  of  phenomena,  without  heed  to  their  first  and  final 
causes ;  but  still  we  detect  ourselves  occasionally  yielding  to  the 
infantine  curiosity  which  pretends  to  a  power  of  knowing  the 
origin  and  the  end  of  all  things.  But  such  severity  of  reason  as 
we  are  capable  of  has  become  attainable  only  since  the  accumula- 
tion of  our  knowledge  has  yielded  us  a  rational  hope  of  finally 
discovering  the  natural  laws  that  were  altogether  out  of  reach 
in  the  early  states  of  the  human  mind ;  and  the  only  alternative 
from  total  inactivity  was,  in  those  days,  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
inaccessible  subjects  which  are  represented  by  the  theological 
philosophy.  The  moral  and  social  grounds  of  this  philosophy 
were  as  necessary  as  the  intellectual.  Its  moral  influence  was 
to  inspire  man  with  confidence  enough  for  action,  by  animating 
him  with  a  sense  of  a  position  of  supremacy.  There  is  something 
astonishing  in  the  contrast  between  the  actual  powers  of  man  in 
an  infant  state  and  the  indefinite  control  which  he  aspires  to  exer- 
cise over  external  nature,  just  as  there  is  in  his  expectation  of 
understanding  matters  which  are  inaccessible  to  reason.  The 
practical  and  the  speculative  expectation  alike  belong  to  the  theo- 
logical philosophy.  Supposing  all  phenomena  to  be  regulated  by 
superhuman  will,  man  may  hope  to  modify  the  universe  by  his 
desires, — not  by  his  personal  resources  but  by  the  access  which 
he  believes  himself  to  have  to  the  imaginary  beings  whose  power 
is  unlimited ;  whereas,  if  he  was  aware  from  the  beginning  that 
the  universe  is  subject  to  invariable  laws,  the  certainty  that  he 
could  no  more  influence  than  understand  them  would  so  discour- 
age him  that  he  would  remain  forever  in  his  original  apathy, 
intellectual  and  moral.  We  find  ourselves  able  to  dispense  with 
supernatural  aid  in  our  difficulties  and  sufferings,  in  proportion 
as  we  obtain  a  gradual  control  over  nature  by  a  knowledge  of  her 


96  —SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

laws ;  but  the  early  races  of  men  were  in  an  opposite  condition. 
They  could  obtain  confid£££e,  and  therefore  courage,  only  from 
above,  and  through  the  illusion  of  an  illimitable  power  residing 
there,  which  could  on  any  occasion  afford  them  irresistible  aid. 
I  am  not  referring  now  to  any  hope  of  a  future  life.  We  shall 
see  presently  that  it  was  not  till  a  much  later  period  that  that 
hope  exercised  any  important  social  influence ;  and  even  in  more 
recent  times  we  shall  find  that  the  effect  of  the  religious  spirit 
on  the  conduct  of  human  life  proceeds  much  more  from  belief  in 
actual  and  special  immediate  aid  than  from  the  uniform  perspec- 
tive of  a  remote  future  existence.  This  seems  to  me  the  leading 
aspect  of  the  remarkable  state  which  is  produced  in  the  human 
brain  by  the  important  intellectual  and  moral  phenomenon  of 
prayer,  the  admirable  properties  of  which,  when  it  has  attained 
its  full  physiological  efficacy,  are  very  manifest  in  the  earliest 
stage  of  progress.  After  a  long  decline  of  the  religious  spirit  the 
notion  of  miracle  was  naturally  formed,  to  characterize  the  events 
which  had  become  exceptional  and  were  attributed  to  divine 
intervention;  but  the  very  conception  shows  that  the  general 
principle  of  natural  laws  had  become  familiar,  and  even  prepon- 
derant, because  the  only  sense  of  miracle  was  a  transient  suspen- 
sion of  natural  laws.  While  the  theological  philosophy  was  all  in 
all,  there  were  no  miracles,  because  everything  was  equally  mar- 
velous, as  we  see  by  the  artless  descriptions  of  ancient  poetry,  in 
which  the  commonest  incidents  are  mixed  up  with  the  most  mon- 
strous prodigies,  and  undergo  analogous  explanations.  Minerva 
intervenes  to  pick  up  the  whip  of  a  warrior  in  military  games,  as 
well  as  to  protect  him  against  a  whole  army ;  and  in  our  own 
time  the  devotee  is  as  importunate  in  praying  for  his  smallest 
personal  convenience  as  for  the  largest  human  interests.  In  all 
ages  the  priest  has  been  more  occupied  with  the  solicitations  of 
his  flock  about  immediate  favors  of  Providence  than  with  their 
care  for  their  eternal  state.  However  this  may  be,  we  see  that  it 
is  a  radical  property  of  the  theological  philosophy  to  be  the  sole 
support  and  stimulus  of  man's  moral  courage,  as  well  as  the 
awakener  and  director  of  his  intellectual  activity.  To  this  we 
must  add  as  another  attraction  of  man  to  this  philosophy,  that 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  97 

the  affective  influence  comes  in  to  fortify  the  speculative.  Feeble 
as  are  the  intellectual  organs,  relatively  considered,  the  attractive 
moral  perspective  of  an  unbounded  power  of  modifying  the  uni- 
verse by  the  aid  of  supernatural  protectors  must  have  been  most 
important  in  exciting  mental  action.  In  our  advanced  state  of 
scientific  progress  we  can  conceive  of  the  perpetual  pursuit  of 
knowledge  for  the  sake  of  the  satisfaction  of  intellectual  activity, 
joined  to  the  tranquil  pleasure  which  arises  from  the  discovery  of 
truth ;  yet  it  is  doubtful  whether  such  natural  stimulus  as  this 
would  always  suffice  without  collateral  instigations  of  glory,  of 
ambition,  or  of  lower  and  stronger  passions,  except  in  the  case 
of  a  very  few  lofty  minds,  —  and  with  them  only  after  training  in 
the  requisite  habits.  And  nothing  of  this  kind  can  be  supposed 
possible  in  the  early  days,  when  the  intellect  is  torpid  and  feeble 
and  scarcely  accessible  to  the  strongest  stimulus ;  nor  yet  after- 
wards, when  science  is  so  far  advanced  as  to  have  attained  some 
speculative  success.  In  the  working  out  of  such  speculation  the 
mental  activity  can  be  sustained  by  nothing  short  of  the  fictions 
of  the  theological  philosophy  about  the  supremacy  of  man  and 
his  unbounded  empire  over  external  nature,  as  we  have  seen  in 
regard  to  astrology  and  alchemy.  In  our  own  time,  when  there 
are  enlightened  men  who  hold  such  delusions  in  regard  to  social 
speculations  alone,  we  see  how  irrationally  they  expect  to  modify 
at  will  the  whole  course  of  political  phenomena,  in  which  they 
could  not  take  any  adequate  scientific  interest  without  such  an 
expectation.1  What  we  see  of  the  influence  of  this  view  in  main- 
taining the  old  polities  may  give  us  some  faint  idea  of  its  power 
when  it  pervaded  every  part  of  the  intellectual  system  and  illu- 
sion beset  the  reason  of  man  whichever  way  he  turned.  Such 
then  was  the  moral  operation  of  the  theological  philosophy,— 
stimulating  man's  active  energy  by  the  offer,  in  the  midst  of  the 
troubles  of  his  infantine  state,  of  absolute  empire  over  the  exter- 
nal world,  as  the  prize  of  his  speculative  efforts. 

1  Were  Comte  writing  to-day,  he  would  doubtless  find  illustrative  material 
in  the  doctrine  of  "  manifest  destiny."  The  confidence  inspired  by  the  belief 
that  the  American  people  are  the  chosen  instrument  of  Providence  for  the  civi- 
lizing of  the  heathen  is  doubtless  a  factor  in  their  success.  —  ED. 


98  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

SOCIAL  INFLUENCES  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  PHILOSOPHY 

The  social  evidences  under  this  head  will  be  fully  treated  in  the 
following  chapters,  so  that  we  may  dismiss  them  now  with  a  very 
short  notice,  important  as  they  are,  and  the  more  easily  because 
this  class  of  evidences  is  the  most  indisputable  of  the  three. 
There  are  two  views  which  must  be  considered  in  relation  to  the 
high  social  office  of  the  theological  philosophy :  first,  its  function 
in  organizing  society ;  and,  next,  its  provision  for  the  permanent 
existence  of  a  speculative  class.  As  to  the  first,  we  must  per- 
ceive that  the  formation  of  any  society,  worthy  to  be  so  called, 
supposes  a  system  of  common  opinions  such  as  may  restrain 
individual  eccentricity  ;  and  such  an  influence,  if  needful  now, 
when  men  are  bound  together  by  such  a  concurrence  of  obli- 
gations as  high  civilization  introduces,  must  be  absolutely  indis- 
pensable in  the  infancy  of  society,  when  families  adhere  to  each 
other  so  feebly  by  means  of  relations  as  precarious  as  they  are 
defective.  No  concurrence  of  interests,  nor  even  sympathy  in 
sentiment,  can  give  durability  to  the  smallest  society,  if  there  be 
not  intellectual  unanimity  enough  to  obviate  or  correct  such  dis- 
cordance as  must  inevitably  arise.  It  has  been  shown  that,  indo- 
lent as  our  intellectual  faculties  are  in  comparison  with  the  others, 
reason  must  rule  not  only  domestic  but  also  social  and  yet  more 
political  life ;  for  through  it  alone  can  there  be  any  organization 
of  that  reaction  of  society  on  the  individual  which  appoints  the 
function  of  government  and  absolutely  requires  a  system  of  com- 
mon opinions  about  nature  and  man.  Such  a  system,  then,  is  a 
political  necessity,  and  especially  in  the  infancy  of  society.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  must  admit  that  the  human  mind,  having 
thus  furnished  a  basis  for  social  organization,  must  depend  for  its 
further  development  on  society  itself,  whose  expansion  is  really 
inseparable  from  that  of  human  intelligence.  Here  we  see  that 
society  is  in  a  vicious  circle  in  a  political  as  well  as  a  logical 
view,  through  the  opposition  of  two  equal  necessities ;  and  here 
again  the  only  possible  issue  is  afforded  by  the  theological  philos- 
ophy. It  directs  the  first  social  organization  as  it  forms  a  system 
of  common  opinions,  and  it  does  it  by  forming  such  a  system. 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  99 

Because  we  see  it  now  in  such  a  state  of  decomposition  that  its 
advocates  lose  sight  of  the  unity  of  opinions  that  it  once  secured, 
and  are  themselves  involved  in  intellectual  discordance,  we  must 
not  forget  how,  in  those  days  of  vigor. by  which  it  must  be 
judged,  it  established  an  intellectual  communion  which  constituted 
its  most  remarkable  political  function.  The  police  consideration 
of  a  future  life  is  wrongly  attributed  to  this  period  of  human 
society.  It  arose  long  after,  and  was  of  very  inferior  importance 
to  the  intellectual  agreement  which  preceded  it;  and  its  opera- 
tion would  not  be  so  erroneously  exaggerated  but  that  religion 
has  so  far  faded  out  of  men's  minds  as  to  leave  no  other  strong 
habitual  remembrance  than  of  its  grossest  impressions. 

INSTITUTION  OF  A  SPECULATIVE  CLASS 

Another  way  in  which  the  theological  philosophy  was  politi- 
cally indispensable  to  human  progress  was  by  instituting,  in  the 
midst  of  society,  a  special  class  regularly  devoted  to  speculative 
activity.  In  this  view  the  social  supremacy  of  the  theological 
philosophy  has  lasted  to  our  own  time.  It  is  scarcely  possible 
for  us  to  form  any  but  an  indirect  idea  of  the  difficulty  of  estab- 
lishing, in  the  earliest  period  of  society,  any  permanent  division 
between  theory  and  practice,  such  as  is  effected  by  the  existence 
of  a  class  regularly  occupied  with  speculation.  Even  now,  amidst 
all  the  refinement  of  our  mental  habits,  we  find  extreme  difficulty 
in  duly  estimating  any  new  operation  which  has  no  immediate 
practical  bearing ;  and  by  this  we  may  imperfectly  understand 
how  impossible  it  was,  in  the  remotest  ages,  to  institute  among 
populations  of  warriors  and  slaves  a  corporation  that  should  be 
disengaged  from  military  and  industrial  employments,  and  whose 
activity  should  be  mainly  of  an  intellectual  kind.  Such  a  class 
could,  in  those  times,  have  been  neither  established  nor  tolerated 
if  it  had  not  been  introduced  in  the  natural  course  of  social 
movement  and  invested  with  authority  beforehand  by  the  influ- 
ence of  the  theological  philosophy.  Thus  the  political  function  of 
that  philosophy  was  to  establish  a  speculative  body  whose  social 
existence  not  only  admitted  of  no -preparatory  discussion  but  was 


100  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

itself  an  indispensable  preparation  for  the  regular  organization  of 
all  other  classes.  Whatever  might  have  been  the  confusion  of 
intellectual  labor  and  the  inanity  of  the  leading  investigations 
of  the  sacerdotal  orders,  it  is  not  the  less  true  that  the  human  mind 
owes  to  them  the  first  effectual  separation  between  theory  and 
practice,  which  could  take  place  in  no  other  manner.  Mental 
progress,  by  which  all  other  progress  is  directed,  would  certainly 
have  been  destroyed  at  its  birth,  if  society  had  continued  to  be 
composed  of  families  engaged  in  the  cares  of  material  existence, 
or,  as  the  only  alternative,  in  the  excitement  of  a  brutal  military 
activity.  Any  spiritual  expansion  supposes  the  existence  of  a 
privileged  class,  enjoying  the  leisure  indispensable  to  intellectual 
culture,  and  at  the  same  time  urged,  by  its  social  position,  to 
develop  to  the  utmost  the  kind  of  speculative  activity  compat- 
ible with  the  primitive  state  of  humanity;  and  this  description 
is  answered  by  the  sacerdotal  institution  established  by  the 
theological  philosophy.  Though,  in  the  decrepitude  of  the  old 
philosophy,  we  see  the  theological  class  sunk  in  mental  lethargy, 
we  must  not  forget  that  but  for  their  activity  in  the  days  of  its 
prime,  human  society  would  have  remained  in  a  condition  much 
like  that  of  a  company  of  superior  monkeys.  By  forming  this 
speculative  class,  then,  the  theological  philosophy  fulfilled  the 
political  conditions  of  a  further  progression  of  the  human  mind. 
Such  are  the  qualities,  intellectual,  moral,  and  social,  which 
secured  the  supremacy  of  the  theological  philosophy  at  the  out- 
set of  human  progress.  This  is  the  only  part  of  my  sociological 
demonstration  which  is  at  all  open  to  dispute,  and  this  is  one 
reason  why  I  have  dwelt  so  long  upon  it,  but  it  is  not  the  only 
reason.  Another  and  a  greater  is  that  this  view  contains  the 
radical  principle  of  the  whole  demonstration,  the  remainder  of 
which  will  not  detain  us  long. 

THE  POSITIVE  STAGE 

If  this  starting  point  of  human  development  has  been  placed 
beyond  dispute,  the  final  or  positive  stage  does  not  admit  of  it. 
We  have  seen  enough  of  the  establishment  of  the  positive  phi- 
losophy in  other  departments  to  be  satisfied  of  its  destined 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  IOI 

prevalence  in  sociology.  For  the  same  reasons  which  explain  and 
justify  the  early  supremacy  of  the  theological  philosophy  we  see 
that  it  must  be  a  provisional  state,  for  its  supremacy  was  owing 
to  its  aptitude  to  meet  the  needs  of  a  primitive  state  of  humanity ; 
and  those  needs  are  not  the  same,  nor  requiring  the  same  phi- 
losophy to  satisfy  them,  as  those  which  arise  in  a  more  advanced 
stage  of  human  evolution.  After  having  awakened  human  reason 
and  superintended  its  progress  in  the  absence  of  a  more  real 
philosophy,  theology  began  to  repress  the  human  mind  from  the 
first  moment  of  its  coming  into  direct  antagonism  with  the  pos- 
itive philosophy.  And  in  the  same  way,  in  its  moral  relations, 
it  imparted  at  first  a  consolatory  confidence  and  active  energy, 
which  have  become  transmuted,  by  too  long  a  duration,  into 
oppressive  terror  and  a  faint  apathy  which  have  been  too  com- 
mon a  spectacle,  since  it  has  been  driven  to  struggle  to  retain  its 
hold  instead  of  extending  its  dominion.  There  is  no  more  ques- 
tion of  the  moral  than  of  the  intellectual  superiority  and  final 
supremacy  of  the  positive  philosophy,  capable  as  it  is  of  develop- 
ing in  us  an  unshaken  vigor  and  a  deliberate  steadfastness, 
directly  derived  from  our  own  nature,  without  any  external  assist- 
ance or  any  imaginary  hindrance.  And  again,  in  regard  to  its 
social  bearings,  though  the  ascendency  of  the  theological  phi- 
losophy lasted  longer  on  this  ground  than  on  the  other  two,  it  is 
evident  enough  at  present  that  instead  of  uniting  men,  which 
was  its  proper  function  at  first,  it  now  divides  them,  so  that  after 
having  created  speculative  activity  it  has  ended  with  radically 
hindering  it.  The  function  of  reuniting,  as  of  stimulating  and 
directing,  belongs  more  and  more,  as  religious  belief  declines,  to 
the  conceptions  of  positive  philosophy,  which  alone  can  establish 
that  intellectual  community  all  over  the  world  on  which  the  great 
future  political  organization  is  to  be  grounded.  The  intellectual 
destination  of  the  two  philosophies  has  been  sufficiently  estab- 
lished in  our  review  of  all  the  departments  of  natural  philosophy. 
Their  moral  and  social  destination  will  be  illustrated  in  succeed- 
ing chapters  of  this  volume.  My  historical  analysis  will  explain 
to  us  the  continuous  decline  of  the  one  and  the  corresponding 
rise  of  the  other,  from  the  earliest  period  of  human  progression. 


102  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

It  may  appear  paradoxical  to  regard  the  theological  philosophy  as 
in  a  steadily  declining  state  intellectually,  at  the  very  time  that 
it  was  fulfilling  its  most  exalted  mission ;  but  we  shall  find  sat- 
isfactory scientific  evidence  that  Catholicism,  its  noblest  social 
work,  must  necessarily  be  its  last  effort,  on  account  of  the  germs 
of  disorganization  which  must  thenceforth  grow  more  and  more 
rapidly.  We  need  here,  therefore,  only  assign  the  general  prin- 
ciple of  the  inevitable  tendency  of  the  human  mind  toward  an 
exclusive  positive  philosophy  throughout  the  whole  range  of  the 
intellectual  system. 

ATTEMPTED  UNION  OF  THE  Two  PHILOSOPHIES 

The  general,  like  the  individual,  human  mind  is  governed  by 
imagination  first,  and  then,  after  a  sufficient  exercise  of  the  facul- 
ties at  large,  more  and  more  by  reason.  The  same  grounds  on 
which  the  process  takes  place  in  the  individual  case  determine 
that  of  the  whole  species  ;  and  with  the  more  certainty  and 
power  on  account  of  the  greater  complexity  and  perpetuity  of  the 
social  organism.  Supreme  as  the  theological  philosophy  once 
was,  it  is  certain  that  such  a  method  of  philosophizing  was 
resorted  to  only  because  no  other  was  possible.  Wherever  there 
has  been  a  choice  in  regard  to  any  subject  whatever,  man  has 
always  preferred  the  study  of  the  laws  of  phenomena  to  that  of 
their  primary  causes,  though  prior  training,  which  there  has  been 
no  rational  education  adapted  to  counteract,  has  often  occasioned 
a  lapse  into  his  old  illusions.  Theological  philosophy  has,  how- 
ever, never  been  absolutely  universal ;  that  is,  the  simplest  and 
commonest  facts  in  all  classes  of  phenomena  have  always  been 
supposed  subject  to  natural  laws,  and  not  to  the  arbitrary  will  of 
supernatural  agents.  Adam  Smith  made  the  remark  that  there 
never  was,  in  any  age  or  country,  a  god  of  weight.  In  more 
complex  cases,  if  only  the  relations  of  phenomena  are  seen  to 
be  invariable,  the  most  superficial  observer  recognizes  the  pres- 
ence of  law.  Even  among  moral  and  social  phenomena,  where 
the  entrance  of  positive  philosophy  has  been  interdicted,  we  are 
all  obliged  to  act  daily  on  the  supposition  of  natural  laws,  in 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  103 

order  to  conduct  the  common  affairs  of  life  ;  for  all  forecast  would 
be  impossible  if  we  supposed  every  incident  to  be  ascribable  to 
supernatural  agency,  and  no  other  resource  therefore  possible 
than  prayer,  for  influencing  the  course  of  human  actions.  It  is 
even  noticeable  that  the  principle  of  the  theological  philosophy 
itself  lies  in  the  transference  of  the  first  beginnings  of  the  laws 
of  human  action  to  the  phenomena  of  external  nature ;  and 
thus  the  germ  of  the  positive  philosophy  is  at  least  as  primitive 
as  that  of  the  theological  philosophy  itself,  though  it  could  not 
expand  till  a  much  later  time.  This  idea  is  very  important  to  the 
perfect  rationality  of  our  sociological  theory,  because,  as  human 
life  can  never  present  any  real  creation,  but  only  a  gradual  evolu- 
tion, the  final  spread  of  the  positive  spirit  would  be  scientifically 
incomprehensible,  if  we  could  not  trace  its  rudiments  from  the 
very  beginning.  From  that  scarcely  appreciable  presence  at  the 
beginning,  the  rise  of  the  positive  spirit  has  been  recognizable, 
in  proportion  to  the  extension  and  generalization  of  our  observa- 
tions, and  the  theological  philosophy  has  been  slowly  but  steadily 
driven  back  within  the  narrowing  limits  of  phenomena  whose 
natural  laws  were  still  unknown.  Thus  was  the  function  of  the 
old  philosophy  clearly  a  provisional  one,  —  to  maintain  our  men- 
tal activity  by  the  only  exercise  open  to  it  till  the  positive  phi- 
losophy should  usher  it  into  the  wide  field  of  universal  knowledge 
made  accessible  to  the  whole  race.  This  destination  has  only 
recently  exhibited  itself  in  an  unquestionable  way  since  the  dis- 
closure of  natural  laws  in  phenomena  so  numerous  and  so  various 
as  to  suggest  the  necessary  existence  of  analogous  laws  in  all 
other  departments,  however  remote  their  actual  discovery  may  be. 
It  does  not  follow,  from  anything  that  I  have  said,  that  the 
two  philosophies  were  always  visibly  opposed  to  each  other.  On 
the  contrary  the  physical  study  must  have  succumbed  to  the  the- 
ological spirit  if  they  had  seemed  at  the  outset  to  be  incompat- 
ible. In  fact,  the  study  of  the  laws  of  phenomena  appeared,  for 
a  long  course  of  time,  to  agree  very  well  with  the  investigation 
into  their  causes.  It  was  only  when  observations  became  more 
connected,  and  disclosed  important  relations,  that  the  radical 
opposition  of  the  two  doctrines  began  to  be  felt.  Before  the 


104  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

antagonism  was  avowed  the  positive  spirit  manifested  its  repug- 
nance to  the  futile  absolute  explanations  of  the  theological  phi- 
losophy, and  the  theological  spirit  lavished  its  disdain  on  the 
circumspect  march  and  modest  investigations  of  the  new  school, 
while  still  there  was  no  idea  that  the  study  of  real  laws  was  irrec- 
oncilable with  that  of  the  essential  causes.  When  natural  laws 
of  considerable  scope  were  at  length  discovered,  the  incompat- 
ibility became  clear  between  the  preponderance  of  imagination 
and  that  of  reason,  between  the  absolute  spirit  and  the  relative, 
and,  above  all,  between  the  ancient  hypothesis  of  the  sovereign 
direction  of  events  by  an  arbitrary  will  and  the  growing  cer- 
tainty that  we  can  foresee  and  modify  them  by  the  rational  access 
of  human  wisdom.  It  is  only  in  our  own  time  that  the  antago- 
nism has  been  extended  to  all  parts  of  the  intellectual  field ;  and 
even  up  to  the  last  moment  the  students  of  special  subjects  have 
believed  that  by  confining  themselves  to  the  investigation  of 
natural  laws,  and  paying  no  attention  to  the  nature  of  beings 
and  mode  of  production  of  phenomena,  they  might  find  physical 
researches  compatible  with  the  explanations  of  theology ;  while 
theology  made  its  own  concessions  in  the  form  of  a  provisional 
notion  of  a  universal  providence,  combined  with  special  laws 
which  it  had  imposed  on  itself.  The  conduct  of  Catholicism  in 
interdicting  the  habitual  use  of  miracle  and  prophecy,  which  pre- 
vailed so  largely  in  ancient  times,  seems  to  me  to  present  in 
religious  affairs  a  transient  situation  analogous  to  that  which  is 
exhibited  by  what  is  called  the  institution  of  constitutional  mon- 
archy in  the  political  world,  each  being  in  its  own  way  an 
indisputable  symptom  of  decline.  However  this  may  be,  the 
insufficiency  of  the  theological  philosophy  manifests  itself  to  pop- 
ular observation  in  that  form  of  popular  evidence  which  can 
alone  reach  the  majority  of  mankind,  —  in  its  comparison  with 
its  opponent  in  the  application  of  means.  The  positive  phi- 
losophy enables  us  to  foresee  and  to  modify  natural  events,  and 
thus  satisfies  more  and  more,  as  it  advances,  the  most  urgent 
intellectual  needs  of  humanity,  while  the  ancient  philosophy 
remains  barren  ;  so  that  its  fanciful  explanations  are  more  and 
more  neglected,  while  the  new  philosophy  obtains  a  perpetually 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  105 

firmer  hold  on  the  public  reason.  Those  who  have  remained 
faithful  to  their  attachment  to  the  theological  philosophy  make 
no  practical  use  of  it  in  their  daily  life  and  ground  their  predi- 
lection for  it  on  its  characteristic  generality,  so  that  when  its 
antagonist  shall  have  become  systematized  as  fully  as  it  is  des- 
tined to  be,  the  ancient  philosophy  will  have  lost  the  last  attribute 
which  has  ever  entitled  it  to  social  supremacy. 

THE  METAPHYSICAL  PERIOD 

We  have  now  only  to  take  a  cursory  survey  of  the  interme- 
diate state.  I  have  pointed  out  more  than  once  before,  that  any 
intermediate  state  can  be  judged  of  only  after  a  precise  analysis 
of  the  two  extremes.  The  present  case  is  a  remarkable  illustra- 
tion of  this  necessity ;  for,  if  it  is  once  admitted  that  the  human 
mind  must  set  out  from  the  theological  state  and  arrive  cer- 
tainly at  the  positive,  we  may  easily  understand  how  it  must  pass 
through  the  metaphysical,  which  has  no  other  destination  than 
to  afford  a  transition  from  the  one  to  the  other.  The  bastard 
and  mobile  character  of  the  metaphysical  philosophy  fits  it  for 
this  office,  as  it  reconciles,  for  a  time,  the  radical  opposition  of 
the  other  two,  adapting  itself  to  the  gradual  decline  of  the  one 
and  the  preparatory  rise  of  the  other,  so  as  to  spare  our  dislike 
of  abrupt  change  and  to  afford  us  a  transition  almost  imper- 
ceptible. The  metaphysical  philosophy  takes  possession  of  the 
speculative  field  after  the  theological  has  relinquished  it  and 
before  the  positive  is  ready  for  it ;  so  that  in  each  particular  case 
the  dispute  about  the  supremacy  of  any  of  the  three  philosophies 
is  reduced  to  the  mere  question  of  opportuneness,  judged  by 
a  rational  examination  of  the  development  of  the  human  mind. 
The  method  of  modification  consists  in  substituting  gradually 
the  entity  for  a  deity  when  religious  conceptions  become  so  gen- 
eralized as  to  diminish  perpetually  the  number  of  supernatural 
agents  as  well  as  their  active  intervention,  and  at  length  arrive, 
professedly  if  not  really,  at  rigorous  unity.  When  supernatural 
action  loses  its  original  specialty  it  consigns  the  immediate  direc- 
tion of  the  phenomenon  to  a  mysterious  entity  at  first  emanating 


106  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

from  itself,  but  to  which  daily  custom  trains  the  human  mind  to 
refer  more  and  more  exclusively  the  production  of  each  event. 
This  strange  process  has  favored  the  withdrawal  of  supernatural 
causes  and  the  exclusive  consideration  of  phenomena,  —  that  is, 
the  decline  of  the  theological  and  the  rise  of  the  positive  spirit. 
Beyond  this  the  general  character  of  this  philosophy  is  that  of 
the  theological,  of  which  it  is  only  a  modification,  though  the 
chief.  It  has  an  inferior  intellectual  consistency  and  a  much 
less  intense  social  power ;  so  that  it  is  much  better  adapted  for 
a  critical  function  than  for  any  real  organization  ;  and  it  is  those 
very  qualities  which  disable  it  for  resistance  to  the  growth  of 
the  positive  spirit.  On  the  one  hand,  the  increasing  subtlety  of 
metaphysical  speculations  is  forever  reducing  their  characteristic 
entities  to  mere  abstract  denominations  of  the  corresponding 
phenomena,  so  as  to  render  their  own  impotence  ridiculous  when 
they  attempt  explanations,  —  a  thing  which  would  not  have  been 
possible,  in  an  equal  degree,  with  purely  theological  forms.  On 
the  other  hand,  its  deficiency  of  organizing  power,  in  consequence 
of  its  radical  inconsistency,  must  prevent  its  maintaining  any 
such  political  struggle  as  theology  maintained  against  the  spread 
of  positive  social  philosophy.  However,  it  obtains  a  respite  by 
its  own  equivocal  and  mobile  nature,  which  enables  it  to  escape 
from  rational  discussion  even  more  than  the  theological  philoso- 
phy itself,  while  the  positive  spirit  is  as  yet  too  imperfectly  gen- 
eralized to  be  able  to  attack  the  only  substantial  ground  of  their 
common  authority,  —  the  universality  which  they  can  boast  but 
which  it  has  not.  However  this  may  be,  we  must  admit  the 
aptitude  of  metaphysics  to  sustain  provisionally  our  speculative 
activity  on  all  subjects  till  it  can  receive  more  substantial  ali- 
ment, at  the  same  time  carrying  us  over  from  the  theological 
regime  further  and  further  in  the  direction  of  the  positive.  The 
same  aptitude  appears  in  its  political  action.  Without  overlook- 
ing the  serious  intellectual  and  moral  dangers  which  distinguish 
the  metaphysical  philosophy,  its  transitional  quality  accounts  to 
us  for  the  universal  ascendency  which  it  has  provisionally  obtained 
among  the  most  advanced  societies,  which  cannot  but  have  an 
instinctive  sense  of  some  indispensable  office  to  be  fulfilled  by 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  107 

such  a  philosophy  in  the  evolution  of  humanity.  The  irresistible 
necessity  of  this  temporary  phase  is  thus  on  all  grounds  as  un- 
questionable as  it  could  be  prior  to  the  direct  analysis  to  which 
it  will  be  subjected  in  the  course  of  our  historical  review. 


COEXISTENCE  OF  THE  THREE  PERIODS 

During  the  whole  of  our  survey  of  the  sciences  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  keep  in  view  the  great  fact  that  all  the  three  states,  theo- 
logical, metaphysical,  and  positive,  may  and  do  exist  at  the  same 
time  in  the  same  mind  in  regard  to  different  sciences.  I  must 
once  more  recall  this  consideration  and  insist  upon  it,  because  in 
the  forgetfulness  of  it  lies  the  only  real  objection  that  can  be 
brought  against  the  grand  law  of  the  three  states.  It  must  be 
steadily  kept  in  view  that  the  same  mind  may  be  in  the  positive 
state  with  regard  to  the  most  simple  and  general  sciences,  in 
the  metaphysical  with  regard  to  the  more  complex  and  special, 
and  in  the  theological  with  regard  to  social  science,  which  is  so 
complex  and  special  as  to  have  hitherto  taken  no  scientific  form 
at  all.  Any  apparent  contradiction  must  certainly  arise,  even  if 
it  could  be  shown  to  exist  from  the  imperfection  of  our  hierarch- 
ical arrangement,  and  not  from  the  law  of  evolution  itself.  This 
once  fully  understood,  the  law  itself  becomes  our  guide  in  fur- 
ther investigation,  as  every  proved  theory  does,  by  showing  us  by 
anticipation  what  phenomena  to  look  for  and  how  to  use  those 
which  arise  ;  and  it  supplies  the  place  of  direct  exploration  when 
we  have  not  the  necessary  means  of  investigation.  We  shall  find 
that  by  this  law  alone  can  the  history  of  the  human  mind  be 
rendered  intelligible.  Having  convinced  ourselves  of  its  efficacy 
in  regard  to  all  other  sciences,  and  in  interpreting  all  that  has 
yet  come  to  pass  in  human  history,  we  must  adhere  to  it  steadily 
in  analyzing  the  present  and  in  forming  such  anticipation  of  the 
future  as  sociology,  being  a  real  science,  enables  us  to  rely  upon. 

To  complete  my  long  and  difficult  demonstration  I  have  only  now 
to  show  that  material  development  as  a  whole  must  follow  a  course 
not  only  analogous  but  perfectly  correspondent  with  that  of  intel- 
lectual development,  which  as  we  have  seen  governs  every  other. 


108  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

CORRESPONDING  MATERIAL  DEVELOPMENT 

All  political  investigation  of  a  rational  kind  proves  the  primi- 
tive tendency  of  mankind  in  a  general  way  to  a  military  life,  and 
to  its  final  issue  in  an  industrial  life.  No  enlightened  mind  dis- 
putes the  continuous  decline  of  the  military  spirit  and  the  grad- 
ual ascendency  of  the  industrial.  We  see  now  under  various 
forms  and  more  and  more  indisputably,  even  in  the  very  heart  of 
armies,  the  repugnance  of  modern  society  to  a  military  life.  We 
see  that  compulsory  recruiting  becomes  more  and  more  necessary, 
and  that  there  is  less  and  less  voluntary  persistence  in  that  mode 
of  life.  Notwithstanding  the  immense  exceptional  development 
of  military  activity  which  was  occasioned  by  anomalous  circum- 
stances at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  our  industrial 
and  pacific  instincts  have  returned  to  their  regular  course  of 
expansion,  so  as  to  render  us  secure  of  the  radical  tranquillity  of 
the  civilized  world,  though  the  peace  of  Europe  must  often  appear 
to  be  endangered  through  the  provisional  deficiency  of  any  sys- 
tematic organization  of  international  relations,  —  a  cause  which 
though  insufficient  to  produce  war  keeps  us  in  a  state  of  frequent 
uneasiness.  We  need  not  then  go  over  again  the  proof  of  the 
first  and  last  terms  of  the  evolution,  which  will  be  abundantly 
illustrated  by  the  historical  analysis  that  I  shall  offer.  We  have 
only  to  refer  the  facts  of  human  experience  to  the  essential 
laws  of  human  nature  and  the  necessary  conditions  of  social 
development,  —  a  scientific  procedure  which  has  never  yet  been 
attempted. 

PRIMITIVE  MILITARY  LIFE 

As  long  as  primitive  man  was  averse  to  all  regular  toil,  the 
military  life  alone  furnished  a  field  for  his  sustained  activity. 
Apart  from  cannibalism,  it  offered  the  simplest  means  of  sub- 
sistence. However  deplorable  the  necessity,  its  universal  preva- 
lence and  continuous  development,  even  after  subsistence  might 
have  been  obtained  by  other  means,  proves  that  the  military 
regime  must  have  had  some  indispensable,  though  provisional, 
office  to  fulfill  in  the  progression  of  the  race.  It  was  indeed  the 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  109 

only  one  under  which  human  industry  could  make  a  beginning,  — 
in  the  same  way  that  the  scientific  spirit  could  not  have  arisen 
without  the  protection  of  the  religious.  The  industrial  spirit 
supposed  the  existence  of  a  considerable  social  development,  such 
as  could  not  have  taken  place  till  isolated  families  had  been  con- 
nected by  the  pursuits  of  war.  The  social  and  yet  more  the 
political  properties  of  military  activity  are,  in  their  early  stages, 
perfectly  clear  and  decisive,  and,  in  short,  fully  appropriate  to  the 
high  civilizing  function  which  they  had  to  fulfill.  It  was  thus 
that  habits  of  regularity  and  discipline  were  instituted  and  the 
families  of  men  were  brought  into  association  for  warlike  expedi- 
tions or  for  their  common  defense.  The  objects  of  association 
could  not  possibly  be  more  obvious  or  urgent,  nor  the  elementary 
conditions  of  concurrence  more  irresistible.  In  no  other  school 
could  a  primitive  society  learn  order,  as  we  may  see  at  this  day 
in  the  case  of  those  types  of  ancient  humanity,  —  the  exceptional 
individuals  who  cannot  now  be  made  amenable  to  industrial  disci- 
pline. This  ascendency  of  the  military  spirit  was  indispensable 
not  only  to  the  original  consolidation  of  political  society  but  yet 
more  to  its  continuous  extension,  which  could  not  otherwise,  have 
taken  place  but  with  excessive  slowness ;  and  such  extension  was, 
to  a  certain  degree,  indispensable  to  the  final  development  of 
human  industry.  Thus,  then,  we  find  humanity  involved  in  the 
same  kind  of  vicious  circle  with  regard  to  its  temporal  as  we  saw 
it  to  be  with  regard  to  its  spiritual  progress  ;  and  in  both  cases  an 
issue  was  afforded  by  the  fortunate  expansion  of  a  preliminary 
tendency.  In  fact,  the  necessary  basis  of  the  military  regime  has 
everywhere  been  the  individual  slavery  of  the  producing  class,  by 
which  warriors  were  allowed  the  full  and  free  development  of 
their  activity.  We  shall  see  hereafter  that  the  great  social  oper- 
ation which  was  to  be  accomplished  in  due  time  by  the  continuous 
progression  of  a  military  system,  powerfully  instituted  and  wisely 
carried  out,  must  have  failed  in  its  earliest  stages.  We  shall  also 
see  how  this  ancient  slavery  was  the  necessary  preparation  for 
the  final  prevalence  of  the  industrial  life,  by  imposing  on  the 
majority  of  the  race,  irresistibly  and  exclusively,  that  toil  to  which 
man  is  constitutionally  averse,  though  an  ultimate  condition  of 


1 10  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

laborious  perseverance  was  in  store  for  all.  To  view  the  case 
without  prejudice  we  must  transport  ourselves  to  those  primi- 
tive times,  and  not  regard  the  slavery  of  that  age  with  the 
just  horror  with  which  we  view  that  of  modern  times, —  the 
colonial  slavery  of  our  day,  which  is  truly  a  social  monstrosity, 
existing  as  it  does  in  the  heart  of  an  industrial  period,  subject- 
ing the  laborer  to  the  capitalist  in  a  manner  equally  degrading  to 
both.  The  ancient  slavery  was  of  the  producer  to  the  warrior, 
and  it  tended  to  develop  their  respective  energies  so  as  to  occa- 
sion their  final  concurrence  in  the  same  social  progression. 

THE  MILITARY  REGIME  PROVISIONAL 

Necessary  as  this  military  regime  was,  it  was  not  the  less 
merely  provisional.  While  industrial  activity  has  the  fine  quality 
of  bearing  the  most  energetic  extension  among  all  individuals 
and  nations  without  making  the  rise  of  the  one  irreconcilable 
with  that  of  the  other,  it  is  evident  that  the  exaltation  of  the 
military  life  among  any  considerable  portion  of  the  race  must 
occasion  the  restriction  of  all  the  rest ;  this  being,  in  fact,  the 
proper  function  of  the  regime  in  regard  to  the  whole  field  of 
civilization.  Thus,  while  the  industrial  period  comprehends  the 
whole  term  of  human  progress  under  natural  laws,  —  that  is,  the 
whole  future  that  we  can  conceive  of,  —  the  military  period  could 
last  no  longer  than  the  formation  of  those  preparatory  conditions 
which  it  was  its  function  to  create.  This  end  was  attained  when 
the  chief  part  of  the  civilized  world  was  at  length  united  under 
the  same  rule ;  that  is,  in  regard  to  Europe,  when  Rome  had 
completed  its  conquests.  From  that  time  forward  military  activ- 
ity had  neither  object  nor  aliment ;  and  from  that  time  forward, 
therefore,  it  declined,  so  as  no  longer  to  disguise  that  gradual 
rise  of  the  industrial  spirit  which  had  been  preparing  during  the 
interval.  But,  notwithstanding  this  connection,  the  industrial 
state  was  so  radically  different  from  the  military  as  to  require  an 
intermediate  term  ;  and  in  the  same  way  that,  in  the  spiritual 
evolution,  an  intermediate  term  was  required  between  the  theo- 
logical and  the  positive  spirit.  In  both  cases  the  middle  phase 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  III 

was  fluctuating  and  equivocal.  We  shall  see  hereafter  that,  in 
the  temporal  case,  it  consisted,  first,  in  a  substitution  of  a  defen- 
sive for  an  offensive  military  organization,  and  afterwards  in  an 
involuntary  general  subordination,  more  and  more  marked,  of 
the  military  spirit  to  the  instinct  of  production.  This  transitory 
phase  being  the  one  in  which  we  live,  its  proper  nature,  vague 
as  it  is,  can  be  estimated  by  direct  intuition. 

Such  is  the  temporal  evolution  briefly  surveyed  in  its  three 
periods.  No  philosophical  mind  can  help  being  struck  by  the 
analogy  between  this  indisputable  progression  and  our  primary 
law  of  succession  of  the  three  states  of  the  human  mind.  But 
our  sociological  demonstration  requires  that  we  should  establish 
the  connection  between  them  by  exhibiting  the  natural  affinity 
which  has  always  existed,  first  between  the  theological  and  the 
military  spirit  and  afterwards  between  the  scientific  and  indus- 
trial, and,  consequently,  between  the  two  transient  functions  of 
the  metaphysicians  and  the  legists.  This  elucidation  will  impart 
the  last  degree  of  precision  and  consistency  to  my  demonstra- 
tion, and  will  thus  establish  it  as  the  rational  basis  of  the  entire 
historical  analysis  which  will  follow. 

AFFINITY  BETWEEN  THE  THEOLOGICAL  AND  MILITARY  REGIME 

The  occasional  rivalry  between  the  theological  power  and  the 
military,  which  history  presents,  has  sometimes  disguised  their 
radical  affinity,  even  in  the  eyes  of  philosophers.  But,  if  we 
consider,  there  can  be  no  real  rivalry  but  among  the  different 
elements  of  the  same  political  system,  in  consequence  of  that 
spontaneous  emulation  which,  in  all  cases  of  human  concurrence, 
must  become  more  earnest  and  extensive  as  the  end  is  more  im- 
portant and  indirect,  and  therefore  the  means  more  distinct  and 
independent,  without  the  participation,  voluntary  or  instinctive, 
being  thereby  prevented.  When  two  powers  equally  energetic 
rise,  increase,  and  decline  together,  notwithstanding  the  differ- 
ence of  their  natures,  we  may  be  assured  that  they  belong  to  the 
same  regime,  whatever  may  be  their  habitual  conflicts.  Conflict 
indicates  radical  incompatibility  only  when  it  takes  place  between 


112  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

two  elements  employed  in  analogous  functions,  and  when  the 
gradual  growth  of  the  one  coincides  with  the  continuous  decline 
of  the  other.  As  to  the  present  case,  it  is  evident  that  in  any 
political  system  there  must  be  an  incessant  rivalry  between  the 
speculative  and  the  active  powers,  which,  through  the  imper- 
fection of  our  nature,  must  often  be  inclined  to  ignore  their 
necessary  coordination  and  to  disdain  the  general  limits  of  their 
reciprocal  attributes.  Notwithstanding  the  social  affinity  between 
science  and  industry,  we  must  look  for  similar  conflict  between 
them  hereafter,  in  proportion  to  the  political  ascendency  which 
they  will  obtain  together.  We  see  signs  of  it  already  in  the 
intellectual  and  moral  antipathy  of  science  to  the  natural  inferi- 
ority of  these  labors  of  industry  which  yet  are  the  means  of 
wealth,  and  in  the  instinctive  repugnance  of  industry  to  the 
abstraction  which  characterizes  science,  and  to  the  just  pride 
by  which  it  is  animated. 

Having  dispatched  these  objections,  we  may  now  contemplate 
the  strong  bond  which  unites  the  theological  and  military  powers, 
and  which  has  in  all  ages  been  felt  and  honored  by  all  enlight- 
ened men  who  have  borne  a  part  in  either,  notwithstanding  the 
passions  of  political  rivalry.  It  is  plain  that  no  military  system 
could  arise  and  endure  without  the  countenance  of  the  theo- 
logical spirit,  which  must  secure  for  it  the  complete  and  perma- 
nent subordination  essential  to  its  existence.  Each  period  imposes 
equal  exigencies  of  this  sort  in  its  special  manner.  At  the  outset, 
when  the  narrowness  and  nearness  of  the  aim  required  a  less 
absolute  submission  of  mind,  social  ties  were  so  weak  that  nothing 
could  have  been  done  but  for  the  religious  authority  with  which 
military  chiefs  were  naturally  invested.  In  more  advanced  times 
the  end  became  so  vast  and  remote,  and  the  participation  so  indi- 
rect, that  even  long  habits  of  discipline  would  not  have  secured 
the  necessary  cooperation  without  the  aid  of  theological  convic- 
tions occasioning  blind  and  involuntary  confidence  in  military 
superiors.  It  was  in  very  ancient  times  that  the  military  spirit 
had  its  great  social  function  to  fulfill ;  and  it  was  in  those  ancient 
times  that  the  two  powers  were  usually  found  concentered  in  the 
same  chiefs.  We  must  observe  also  that  it  was  not  every  spiritual 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  113 

authority  whatever  that  would  have  sufficiently  suited  the  founda- 
tion and  consolidation  of  military  government,  which,  from  its 
nature,  required  the  concurrence  of  the  theological  philosophy, 
and  no  other ;  for  instance,  though  natural  philosophy  has  ren- 
dered eminent  service  in  modern  times  to  the  art  of  war,  the 
scientific  spirit,  which  encourages  habits  of  rational  discussion, 
is  radically  incompatible  with  the  military  spirit ;  and  we  know 
that  the  subjection  of  their  art  to  the  principles  of  science  has 
always  been  bitterly  deplored  by  the  most  distinguished  soldiers, 
on  the  introduction  of  every  change,  as  a  token  of  the  decline 
of  the  military  system.  On  this  ground,  then,  the  affinity  of 
temporal  military  powers  for  spiritual  theological  powers  is  suf- 
ficiently accounted  for.  At  the  first  glance  we  might  suppose 
the  converse  relation  to  be  less  indispensable,  since  purely  theo- 
cratic societies  have  existed,  while  an  exclusively  military  one  has 
never  been  known.  But  a  closer  examination  will  always  show 
the  necessity  of  the  military  system  to  consolidate,  and  yet  more 
to  extend,  the  theological  authority,  developed  in  this  way  by 
a  continual  political  application,  as  the  sacerdotal  instinct  has 
always  been  well  aware.  We  shall  see  again  that  the  theolog- 
ical spirit  is  as  hostile  to  the  expansion  of  industry  as  the  mili- 
tary. Thus  the  two  elements  of  the  primitive  political  system 
have  not  only  a  radical  affinity  but  also  common  antipathies 
and  sympathies,  as  well  as  general  interests ;  and  it  must  be 
needless  to  enlarge  further  in  this  place  on  the  sociological  prin- 
ciple of  the  concurrence  of  these  powers,  which  my  historical 
analysis  will  present  as  constantly  engaged  in  consolidating  and 
correcting  each  other. 

AFFINITY  BETWEEN  THE  POSITIVE  AND  INDUSTRIAL  SPIRIT 

The  latest  case  of  political  dualism  is  even  more  unquestion- 
able than  the  earliest,  and  we  are  favorably  circumstanced  for 
observing  it,  the  two  elements  not  having  yet  attained  their 
definite  ascendency,  though  their  social  development  is  suffi- 
ciently marked.  When  the  time  arrives  for  their  political  rivalry 
it  may  be  more  difficult  than  now  to  exhibit  that  resemblance  in 


114  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

origin  and  destination,  and  that  conformity  of  principles  and 
interests,  which  could  not  be  seriously  disputed  as  long  as  their 
common  struggle  against  the  old  political  system  acts  as  a 
restraint  upon  their  divergencies.  The  most  remarkable  feature 
that  we  have  to  contemplate  in  their  case  is  the  aid  which  each 
renders  to  the  political  triumph  of  the  other,  by  seconding  its 
own  efforts  against  its  chief  antagonist.  I  have  already  noticed, 
in  another  connection,  the  secret  incompatibility  between  the 
scientific  spirit  and  the  military.  There  is  the  same  hostility 
between  the  industrial  spirit,  when  sufficiently  developed,  and  the 
theological.  The  most  zealous  advocates  of  the  old  regime  are 
very  far  removed  from  the  old  religious  point  of  view ;  but  we 
can  transport  ourselves  to  it  for  a  moment,  and  see  how  the  vol- 
untary modification  of  phenomena  by  the  rules  of  human  wisdom 
must  thence  appear  as  impious  as  the  rational  prevision  of  them, 
as  both  suppose  invariable  laws,  finally  irreconcilable  with  all 
arbitrary  will.  According  to  the  rigorous  though  barbarous  logic 
of  the  least  civilized  nations,  all  human  intervention  to  improve 
the  economy  of  nature  is  an  injurious  attack  upon  providential 
government.  There  is  no  doubt,  in  fact,  that  a  strong  prepon- 
derance of  the  religious  spirit  benumbs  the  industrial  by  the 
exaggerated  feelings  of  a  stupid  optimism,  as  has  been  abun- 
dantly clear  on  many  decisive  occasions.  That  this  disastrous 
effect  has  not  been  more  fatal  is  owing  to  priestly  sagacity, 
which  has  so  managed  this  dangerous  power  as  to  educe  its 
civilizing  influence,  while  neutralizing  its  injurious  action  by  con- 
stant and  vigilant  effort,  in  a  way  which  I  shall  presently  exhibit. 
We  cannot,  then,  overlook  the  political  influence  by  which  the 
gradual  expansion  of  human  industry  must  aid  the  progressive 
ascendency  of  the  scientific  spirit  in  its  antagonism  to  the  reli- 
gious, to  say  nothing  of  the  daily  stimulus  which  industry  and 
science  impart  to  each  other,  when  once  strong  enough  for 
mutual  action.  Thus  far  their  office  has  chiefly  been  to  substi- 
tute themselves  for  the  ancient  political  powers  which  are  yield- 
ing up  their  social  influence,  and  our  attention  is  necessarily 
drawn  chiefly  to  the  aid  they  have  afforded  to  each  other  in 
this  operation.  But  it  is  easy  to  perceive  what  force  and  what 


SOCIAL  DYNAMICS  115 

efficacy  must  reside  in  their  connection  when  it  shall  have  assumed 
the  organic  character,  in  which  it  is  at  present  deficient,  and 
shall  proceed  to  the  final  reorganization  of  modern  society 


INTERMEDIATE  REGIME 

Now  that  we  have  examined  the  two  extreme  states,  the  inter- 
mediate dualism  requires  little  notice.  The  interconnection  of 
the  convergent  powers,  spiritual  and  temporal,  which  constitutes 
the  transitory  regime,  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  all  that  we 
have  been  observing.  Indeed,  we  need  but  look  at  the  labors  of 
metaphysicians  and  legists  to  see  what  their  affinity  is,  amidst 
their  rivalries,  —  an  affinity  which  bases  the  philosophical  ascend- 
ency of  the  one  class  on  the  political  preponderance  of  the  other. 
We  may,  then,  regard  as  now  complete  the  necessary  explanation 
required  by  our  fundamental  law  of  human  evolution,  in  order  to 
its  direct  application  to  the  study  of  this  great  phenomenon. 
That  study  will  be  guided  by  the  consideration  of  the  three 
dualisms  which  I  have  established  as  the  only  basis  of  sound 
historical  philosophy.  It  is  worth  noticing  the  conformity  of 
this  law  of  succession,  at  once  intellectual  and  material,  social 
and  political,  with  the  historical  order  which  popular  reason  has 
instinctively  established,  by  distinguishing  the  ancient  and  the 
modern  world,  separated  and  reunited  by  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
sociological  law  which  I  have  propounded  may  be  found  to  have 
for  its  destination  to  take  up  a  vague  empirical  notion,  hitherto 
barren,  and  render  it  rational  and  prolific.  I  hail  this  spontaneous 
coincidence  as  giving  a  sanction  to  my  speculative  labors  ;  and  I 
claim  this  confirmation  in  virtue  of  that  great  aphorism  of  posi- 
tive philosophy  which  I  have  quoted  so  often,  which  enjoins  upon 
all  sound  scientific  theories  to  start  from  a  point  sufficiently 
accordant  with  the  spontaneous  indications  of  popular  reason,  of 
which  true  science  is  simply  a  special  prolongation. 

The  series  of  views  of  social  dynamics  sketched  out  in  this 
chapter  has  established  the  fundamental  law  of  human  develop- 
ment, and  therefore  the  bases  of  historical  philosophy.  It  only 
remains  to  apply  this  great  sociological  principle. 


VI 

A  DEFINITION   OF  PROGRESS1 

When  we  reach  the  plane  which  man  occupies  in  the  animal 
world,  these  laws  of  adaptation,  selection,  and  survival,  while 
they  are  not  altogether  superseded,  and  perhaps  operate  as 
powerfully  as  on  the  lower  creatures,  nevertheless  become  of 
comparatively  small  importance  in  consequence  of  the  vastly 
more  potent  influences  due  to  the  development  of  the  intellectual 
faculty  which  operates  according  to  the  indirect  method.  The 
progress  which  man  has  made,  though  from  any  absolute  stand- 
ard it  may  appear  slow  and  even  secular,  is  nevertheless,  as 
compared  to  that  which  is  brought  about  either  by  cosmical 
alterations  in  the  environment  or  by  the  law  of  adaptation,  or 
direct  and  indirect  equilibration,2  extremely  rapid ;  as  much  more 
rapid  than  that  which  results  from  the  biological  laws  just  named 
as  this  is  more  rapid  than  that  which  results  from  the  cosmical 
laws.  This  progress,  too,  is  effected  in  spite  of  the  frequent  dis- 
astrous conflagrations  which  ignorance  and  error  occasion  by  a 
perverse  use  of  the  Promethean  fire. 

Biological  progress,  which  consists  in  increase  of  structure, 
must,  as  before  shown,  result  in  increase  of  pleasure.  Anthro- 
pological progress,  too,  which  is  the  result  of  the  conscious  pur- 
suit of  pleasure,  must  attain  the  object  of  pursuit. 

It  was  shown  in  the  preceding  chapter  that  happiness  is  both 
the  motive  of  every  particular  action  and  the  ultimate  end  of  all 
action.  It  follows  that  there  can  be  no  improvement  of  man's 
condition  unless  it  tend  to  secure  that  end.  Human  progress 
may,  therefore,  be  properly  defined  as  that  which  secures  the 

1  From  Dynamic  Sociology,  by  Lester  F.  Ward,  Vol.  II,  pp.  173-177, 
York,  1898.    By  permission  of  D.  Appleton  &  Co. 

2  Spencer,  Principles  of  Biology,  Vol.  I,  chaps,  xi  and  xii. 

116 


A  DEFINITION  OF  PROGRESS  117 

increase  of  human  happiness.  Unless  it  do  this,  no  matter  how 
great  a  civilization  may  be,  it  is  not  progressive.  If  a  nation  rise, 
and  extend  its  sway  over  a  vast  territory,  astonishing  the  world 
with  its  power,  its  culture,  and  its  wealth,  this  alone  does  not 
constitute  progress.  It  must  first  be  shown  that  its  people  are 
happier  than  they  would  otherwise  have  been.  If  a  people  be 
seized  with  a  rage  for  art,  and,  in  obedience  to  their  impulses 
or  to  national  decrees,  the  wealth  of  that  people  be  laid  out  in 
the  cultivation  of  the  fine  arts,  the  employment  of  master  artists, 
the  decoration  of  temples,  public  and  private  buildings,  and  the 
embellishment  of  streets  and  grounds,  no  matter  to  what  degree 
of  perfection  this  purpose  be  carried  out,  it  is  not  progress  unless 
greater  satisfaction  be  derived  therefrom  than  was  sacrificed 
in  the  deprivations  which  such  a  course  must  occasion.  To  be 
progressive  in  the  true  sense,  it  must  work  an  increase  in  the 
sum  total  of  human  enjoyment.  When  we  survey  the  history  of 
civilization,  we  should  keep  this  truth  in  view,  and  not  allow  our- 
selves to  be  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  pageantry,  the  glory  of 
heraldry,  or  the  beauty  of  art,  literature,  philosophy,  or  religion, 
but  should  assign  to  each  its  true  place  as  measured  by  this 
standard. 

In  considering  man's  peculiar  characteristic  as  a  progressive 
being,  and  in  how  far  he  really  is  a  progressive  being  in  any 
other  sense  than  all  animals  are  progressive  beings,  it  will  not 
do  to  omit  the  important  fact  that  it  is  only  a  part  of  the  human 
race,  and  a  comparatively  small  part,  that  contributes  at  all  to 
this  result.  By  far  the  larger  part  of  the  race,  as  it  now  exists, 
considered  as  nations  and  peoples,  are  making  little  or  no  intel- 
lectual progress,  but  are  and  have  for  ages  been  in  a  condition 
in  this  respect  akin  to  that  of  animals;  while  in  those  nations 
where  civilization  is  advancing,  the  great  majority  contribute 
absolutely  nothing  to  its  advancement,  simply  performing  the 
functions  of  animals,  viz.,  those  of  maintaining  their  own  exist- 
ence and  perpetuating  their  kind  ;  a  very  few,  the  mental  and 
material  investigators  of  things,  originate  every  progressive  insti- 
tution. It  is  to  these  few  only  that  all  artificial  progress  in 
society  is  due. 


Il8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

It  is  claimed  by  some  that,  if  we  accept  this  definition  of  prog- 
ress, viz.,  the  increase  of  human  happiness,  it  will  follow  that 
there  has  never  been  any  progress  at  all.  For  they  say  that  civ- 
ilization, as  it  has  existed  among  nations,  has  not  had  the  effect 
to  increase  happiness,  but  rather  to  diminish  it ;  that  the  hap- 
piest condition  in  which  mankind  can  exist  is  that  primitive, 
unconventional  state  which  precedes  all  efforts  at  civilization, 
and  allows  nature  to  take  its  course ;  that  the  humblest  peas- 
ant, dwelling  in  his  Arcadian  retreat,  and  ignorant  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  life  amid  the  scenes  of  a  high  and  giddy  civilization, 
is  more  happy  than  the  nervous  pursuer  of  fortune,  fame,  or 
knowledge.1 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  civilization,  by  the  many  false  prac- 
tices which  it  has  introduced,  by  the  facilities  which  its  -very 
complexity  affords  to  the  concealment  of  crime,  and  by  the  mon- 
strous systems  of  corruption  which  fashion,  caste,  and  conven- 
tionality are  enabled  to  shelter,  is  the  direct  means  of  rendering 
many  individuals  miserable  in  the  extreme;  but  these  are  the 
necessary  incidents  to  its  struggles  to  advance  under  the  dominion 
of  natural  forces  alone. 

It  would  involve  a  great  fallacy  to  deduce  from  this  the  con- 
clusion that  civilization  begets  misery  or  reduces  the  happiness  of 
mankind.  Against  this  gross  but  popular  mistake  may  be  cited 
the  principle  before  introduced,  which  is  unanimously  accepted  by 
biologists,  that  an  organism  is  perfect  in  proportion  as  its  organs 
are  numerous  and  varied.  This  is  because  the  more  organs  there 
are  the  greater  is  the  capacity  for  enjoyment.  For  this  enjoy- 
ment is  quantitative  as  well  as  qualitative,  and  the  greater  the 
number  of  faculties  the  greater  is  the  possible  enjoyment  deriv- 
able from  their  normal  exercise.  To  say  that  primitive  man  is 
happier  than  enlightened  man,  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  an 
oyster  or  a  polyp  enjoys  more  than  an  eagle  or  an  antelope. 

1  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  and  other  writers  have  maintained  this  view,  and  it  is 
so  strongly  defended  by  one  of  the  characters  of  Disraeli's  Lothair  as  to  justify 
a  suspicion  that  it  was  the  view  of  the  author.  Fenelon  (Telemaque,  Liv.  VIII), 
in  the  account  that  Adoam  gives  of  the  inhabitants  of  Baetica,  reflects  the  same 
sentiment  with  great  force  and  clearness.  See  also  Comte,  Philosophic  Positive, 
Vol.  IV,  pp.  60,  239. 


A  DEFINITION  OF  PROGRESS  119 

This  could  be  true  only  on  the  ground  that  the  latter,  in  con- 
sequence of  their  sensitive  organisms,  suffer  more  than  they 
enjoy ;  but  if  to  be  happy  is  to  escape  from  all  feeling,  then  it 
were  better  to  be  stones  or  clods,  and  destitute  of  conscious 
sensibility.  If  this  be  the  happiness  which  men  should  seek,  then 
is  the  Buddhist  in  the  highest  degree  consistent  when  he  prays 
for  the  promised  Nirvana,  or  annihilation.  But  this  is  not  happi- 
ness—  it  is  only  the  absence  of  it.  For  happiness  can  only  be 
increased  by  increasing  the  capacity  for  feeling,  or  emotion,  and, 
when  this  is  increased,  the  capacity  for  suffering  is  likewise 
necessarily  increased,  and  suffering  must  be  endured  unless  suffi- 
cient sagacity  accompanies  it  to  prevent  this  consequence.  And 
that  is  the  truest  progress  which,  while"  it  indefinitely  multiplies 
and  increases  the  facilities  for  enjoyment,  furnishes  at  the  same 
time  the  most  effective  means  of  preventing  discomfort,  and,  as 
nearly  all  suffering  is  occasioned  by  the  violation  of  natural  laws 
through  ignorance  of  pr  error  respecting  those  laws,  therefore  that 
is  the  truest  progress  which  succeeds  in  overcoming  ignorance 
and  error. 

Human  progress  is,  therefore,  perfectly  analogous  to  that 
progress  which  is  going  on  in  the  world  of  animal  life,  since  both 
consist  in  a  multiplication,  variation,  and  refinement  of  the  facul- 
ties of  enjoyment,  and  any  change  in  either  which  does  not  effect 
this  is  not  progress.  All  happiness  consists  in  the  gratification 
of  desire.  Every  faculty  experiences  a  natural  want  to  be  exer- 
cised, and  that  want  is  a  desire.  The  proper  exercise  of  that 
faculty  is  the  supply  of  that  want  and  the  gratification  of  that 
desire.  There  are  two  ways,  therefore,  by  which  the  happi- 
ness of  a  being  can  be  increased  :  first,  by  affording  the  oppor- 
tunity for  exercising  existing  faculties ;  and,  second,  by  the 
creation  of  new  and  additional  faculties,  and  extending  these 
opportunities  to  the  exercise  of  these  also. 

By  the  law  of  development  alluded  to,  and  which  is  a  sort  of 
biological  law  of  supply  and  demand,  the  mere  presence  of  these 
opportunities  is  all  that  is  required  to  create  the  faculties  them- 
selves, for  this  renders  the  conditions  for  the  existence  of  such 
faculties  favorable  ;  and,  where  the  conditions  are  favorable  for 


120  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  development  of  a  faculty,  that  faculty  will  arise ;  when  the 
opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  a  faculty  cease,  that  faculty  will 
itself  cease  to  exist,  although  the  organs  through  which  it  was 
exercised  may  long  persist.1 

This  law  extends  with  full  force  to  the  social  condition  of  man. 
Whatever  affords  an  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  a  new  human 
faculty  creates  such  a  faculty,  creates  a  desire  for  its  exercise, 
and  actually  gratifies  that  desire,  thus  adding  to  the  sum  of 
human  happiness.  The  creation  of  such  opportunities  is,  then, 
the  origin  of  progressive  action,  and  it  is  these  same  oppor- 
tunities, increased  and  refined,  that  keep  that  desire  in  exist- 
ence, and  increase  its  intensity.  Therefore,  we  may  enunciate  the 
principle  that  progress  is  in  proportion  to  the  opportunities  or 
facilities  for  exercising  the  faculties  and  satisfying  desire. 

1  Spencer,  Data  of  Ethics,  pp.  183-186  and  263  (§§  67  and  102). 


VII 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  SOCIETY1 

The  prime  factors  in  social  progress  are  the  Community 
and  its  Environment.  The  environment  of  a  community  com- 
prises all  the  circumstances,  adjacent  or  remote,  to  which  the 
community  may  be  in  any  way  obliged  to  conform  its  actions.  It 
comprises  not  only  the  climate  of  the  country,  its  soil,  its  flora 
and  fauna,  its  perpendicular  elevation,  its  relation  to  mountain 
chains,  the  length  of  its  coast  line,  the  character  of  its  scenery, 
and  its  geographical  position  with  reference  to  other  countries ; 
but  it  includes  also  the  ideas,  feelings,  customs,  and  observances 
of  past  times,  so  far  as  they  are  preserved  by  literature,  tradi- 
tions, or  monuments,  as  well  as  foreign  contemporary  manners 
and  opinions,  so  far  as  they  are  known  and  regarded  by  the  com- 
munity in  question.  Thus  defined,  the  environment  may  be  very 
limited  or  very  extensive.  The  environment  of  an  Eskimo  tribe 
consists  of  the  physical  circumstances  of  Labrador,  of  adjoining 
tribes,  of  a  few  traders  or  travelers,  and  of  the  sum  total  of 
the  traditions  received  from  ancestral  Eskimos.  These  make  up 
the  sum  of  the  conditions  affecting  the  social  existence  of  the 
Eskimos.  The  environment  of  the  United  States,  on  the  other 
hand,  while  it  comprises  the  physical  conditions  of  the  North 
American  continent,  comprises  also  all  contemporary  nations  with 
whom  we  have  intercourse,  and  all  the  organized  tradition  — 
political  and  ethical,  scientific  and  religious  —  which  we  possess 
in  common  with  all  the  other  communities  whose  civilization  origi- 
nated in  the  Roman  Empire.  The  significance  of  this  increase  of 
size  and  diversity  in  the  environment  will  be  explained  presently. 

1  From  Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy,  by  John  Fiske,  Part  II,  chap,  xviii, 
pp.  197-201  (copyright,  1874,  by  John  Fiske.  Copyright,  1902,  by  Abby  M.  Fiske, 
executrix).  By  permission  of  Houghton,  MifHin  &  Co. 


122  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Bearing  in  mind  this  definition  of  a  social  environment,  which 
I  believe  carries  with  it  its  own  justification,  let  us  briefly  notice 
the  error  committed  by  those  writers  who  would  fain  interpret 
all  the  most  important  social  phenomena  as  due,  solely  or 
chiefly,  to  physical  causes.  This  is  an  error  frequently  com- 
mitted by  physiologists  who  try  their  hand  at  the  investiga- 
tion of  social  affairs,  and  who  attempt  to  treat  sociology  as  if  it 
were  a  mere  branch  of  biology.  But  this  is  not  the  case.  As  we 
have  seen  psychology  to  be  an  offshoot  from  biology,  specialized 
by  the  introduction  of  inquiries  concerning  the  relations  of  the 
percipient  mind  to  its  environment,  we  must  similarly  regard 
sociology  as  an  offshoot  from  psychology,  specialized  by  the 
introduction  of  inquiries  concerning  the  relations  of  many  per- 
cipient and  emotionally  incited  minds  to  each  other  and  to  their 
common  environment.  As  in  biogeny,  all  attempts  to  discover 
the  law  of  organic  development  failed  utterly  so  long  as  the  rela- 
tions of  the  organism  to  physical  environing  agencies  were  alone 
studied,  and  succeeded  only  when  Mr.  Darwin  took  into  account 
the  relations  of  organisms  to  each  other  ;  so  still  more  inevitably 
in  sociogeny  must  all  our  efforts  fail  so  long  as  we  consider 
merely  the  physiologic  relations  of  a  community  to  the  country 
in  which  it  dwells,  and  refuse  to  recognize  the  extent  to  which 
communities  influence  each  other  by  means  that  are  purely  intel- 
lectual or  moral.  Doubtless  the  character  of  the  physical  envi- 
ronment is  of  importance,  more  especially,  perhaps,  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  civilization.  No  doubt  civilization  will  first  arise,  other 
things  equal,  in  a  locality  where  food  and  shelter  can  be  obtained 
with  a  medium  amount  of  exertion ;  where  nature  is  neither  too 
niggard  nor  too  lavish  in  the  bestowal  of  her  favors.  No  doubt 
there  is  a  physical  significance  in  the  fact  that  civilization  began, 
not  in  barren  Siberia,  or  in  luxuriant  Brazil,  but  in  countries  like 
Egypt  and  Mesopotamia,  which  were  neither  so  barren  as  to 
starve,  nor  so  luxuriant  as  to  spoil,  the  laborer.  No  doubt  the 
Greeks  owed  much  to  the  extent  of  their  coast  line.  No  doubt 
—  above  all  —  the  Mediterranean  is  justly  sacred  to  the  student 
of  history  as  partly  the  civilizer  of  the  peoples  who  upon  its  waves 
first  courted  adventure,  and  conducted  commerce,  and  imparted 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  SOCIETY  123 

to  each  other  cosmopolitan  sympathies  which  could  never  have 
been  evoked  but  for  some  such  intercourse.  All  this  may  be 
granted.  But  as  civilization  advances,  the  organized  experience 
of  past  generations  becomes  to  a  greater  and  greater  extent  the 
all-important  factor  of  progress.  As  Comte  expresses  it,  in  one 
of  his  profoundest  aphorisms,  the  empire  of  the  dead  over  the 
living  increases  from  age  to  age.  If  we  contemplate,  from  a  lofty 
historical  point,  of  view,  the  relative  importance  of  the  factors  in 
the  environment  of  our  United  States,  I  believe  we  shall  be 
forced  to  conclude  that  the  victory  of  the  Greeks  at  Marathon, 
the  conquest  of  Gaul  by  Caesar,  the  founding  of  Christianity,  the 
defeat  of  Attila  at  Chalons  and  of  the  Arabs  at  Tours,  the  advent 
of  the  Normans  in  England,  the  ecclesiastic  reforms  of  Hilde- 
brand,  the  Crusades,  the  revolt  of  Luther,  the  overthrow  of  the 
Spanish  Armada,  and  the  achievements  of  scientific  inquirers 
from  Archimedes  to  Faraday  have  influenced  and  are  influencing 
our  social  condition  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  the  direction  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  the  position  of  the  Great  Lakes,  or  the 
course  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  Or  if  we  inquire  why  the  Spaniards 
are  still  so  superstitious  and  bigoted,  I  believe  we  shall  find  little 
enlightenment  in  the  fact  that  Spain  is  peculiarly  subject  to 
earthquakes,  but  much  enlightenment  in  the  fact  that  for  eight 
centuries  Spain  was  the  arena  of  a  life-and-death  struggle  between 
orthodox  Christians  and  Moorish  unbelievers. 

The  environment  in  our  problem  must,  therefore,  not  only 
include  psychical  as  well  as  physical  factors,  biit  the  former  are 
immeasurably  the  more  important  factors,  and  as  civilization 
advances  their  relative  importance  steadily  increases.  Bearing 
in  mind  these  preliminary  explanations,  let  us  now  address  our- 
selves to  the  problem  of  social  evolution,  applying  to  the  solu- 
tion of  it  sundry  biological  principles  established  in  previous 
chapters.  We  have  first  to  observe  that  it  is  a  corollary  from 
the  law  of  use  and  disuse,  and  the  kindred  biologic  laws  which 
sum  up  the  processes  of  direct  and  indirect  equilibration,  that  the 
fundamental  characteristic  of  social  progress  is  the  continuous 
weakening  of  selfishness  and  the  continuous  strengthening  of 
sympatJiy.  Or  —  to  use  a  more  convenient  and  somewhat 


124  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

more  accurate  expression  suggested  by  Comte  —  it  is  a  gradual 
supplanting  of  egoism  by  altruism.  .  .  . 

1  In  the  first  place,  the  evolution  of  society,  no  less  than  the 
evolution  of  life,  conforms  to  that  universal  law  of  evolution  dis- 
covered by  Mr.  Spencer,  and  illustrated  at  length  in  earlier  chap- 
ters. The  brief  survey  just  taken  shows  us  that  social  progress 
consists  primarily  in  the  integration  of  small  and  simple  com- 
munities into  larger  communities  that  are  of  higher  and  higher 
orders  of  composition,  and  in  the  more  and  more  complete  sub- 
ordination of  the  psychical  forces  which  tend  to  maintain  isola- 
tion to  the  psychical  forces  which  tend  to  maintain  aggregation. 
In  these  respects  the  prime  features  of  social  progress  are  the 
prime  features  of  evolution  in  general. 

In  the  second  place,  the  progress  of  society  exhibits  those 
secondary  features  of  differentiation  and  integration  which  evolu- 
tion universally  exhibits.  The  advance  from  indefinite  homoge- 
neity to  definite  heterogeneity  in  structure  and  function  is  a 
leading  characteristic  of  social  progress.  On  considering  primi- 
tive societies  we  find  them  affected  by  no  causes  of  heterogeneity 
except  those  resulting  from  the  establishment  of  the  various 
family  relationships.  As  Sir  Henry  Maine  has  shown,  in  early 
times  the  family  and  not  the  individual  was  the  social  unit.  In 
the  absence  of  anything  like  national  or  even  civic  organization, 
each  family  chief  was  a  monarch  in  miniature,  uniting  in  his  own 
person  the  functions  of  king,  priest,  judge,  and  parliament ;  yet 
he  was  scarcely  less  a  digger  and  hewer  than  his  subject  chil- 
dren, wives,  and  brethren.  Commercially,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
all  primitive  communities  are  homogeneous.  In  any  barbarous 
tribe  the  number  of  different  employments  is  very  limited,  and 
such  as  there  are  may  be  undertaken  indiscriminately  by  every 
one.  Every  man  is  his  own  butcher  and  baker,  his  own  tailor  and 
carpenter,  his  own  smith,  and  his  own  weapon  maker.  Now  the 
progress  of  such  a  society  toward  a  civilized  condition  begins 
with  the  differenfiatipn  and  integration  of  productive  occupations. 
That  each  specialization  of  labor  entails  increased  efficiency  of 

1  From  Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy,  pp.  209-211. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  SOCIETY  125 

production,  which  reacting  brings  out  still  greater  specialization, 
is  known  to  every  tyro  in  political  economy  Nor  is  it  less 
obvious  that,  with  the  advance  of  civilization,  labor  has  been 
steadily  increasing  in  coherent  heterogeneity,  not  only  with 
regard  to  its  division  among  different  sets  of  mutually  dependent 
laborers  but  also  with  regard  to  its  processes  and  even  its 
instruments.  The  distinguishing  characteristic  of  modern  ma- 
chinery, as  compared  with  the  rude  tools  of  the  Middle  Ages 
or  the  clumsy  apparatus  of  the  ancients,  is  its  definite  hetero- 
geneity. The  contrast  between  the  steam  engine  of  to-day  and  the 
pulleys,  screws,  and  levers  of  a  thousand  years  ago  assures  us 
that  the  growing  complexity  of  the  objects  which  labor  aims  at 
is  paralleled  by  the  growing  complexity  of  the  modes  of  attain- 
ing them.  Turning  to  government,  we  see  that  by  differentia- 
tion in  the  primeval  community  some  families  acquired  supreme 
power,  while  others  sank,  though  in  different  degrees,  to  the 
rank  of  subjects.  The  integration  of  allied  families  into  tribes, 
and  of  adjacent  tribes  into  nations,  as  well  as  that  kind  of  inte- 
gration exhibited  at  a  later  date  in  the  closely  knit  diplomatic 
interrelations  of  different  countries,  are  marked  steps  in  social 
progress.  Next  may  be  mentioned  the  differentiation  of  the  gov- 
erning power  into  the  civil  and  the  ecclesiastical,  while  by  the  side 
of  these  ceremonial  government  grows  up  insensibly  as  a  third 
power,  regulating  the  minor  details  of  social  intercourse  none  the 
less  potently  because  not  embodied  in  statutes  and  edicts.  Com- 
paring the  priests  and  augurs  of  antiquity  with  the  dignitaries 
of  the  mediaeval  Church,  the  much  greater  heterogeneity  of  the 
latter  system  becomes  manifest.  Civil  government  likewise  has 
become  differentiated  into  executive,  legislative,  and  judicial. 
Executive  government  has  been  divided  into  many  branches,  and 
diversely  in  different  nations.  A  comparison  of  the  Athenian 
popular  government  with  the  representative  systems  of  the  pres- 
ent day  shows  that  the  legislative  function  has  no  more  than  any 
of  the  others  preserved  its  original  homogeneity ;  while  the  con- 
trast between  the  Aula  Regis  of  the  Norman  kings  and  the 
courts  of  common  law,  equity,  and  admiralty,  —  county  courts, 
queen's  courts,  state  courts,  and  federal  courts,  —  which  are 


126  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

lineally  descended  from  it,  tells  us  the  same  story  concerning  the 
judicial  power.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that  the  steady  expan- 
sion of  legal  systems,  to  meet  the  exigencies  which  civilization 
renders  daily  more  complex,  is  an  advance  from  relatively  indefi- 
nite homogeneity  to  relatively  definite  heterogeneity.  .  .  . 

1  Now  the  historic  survey  into  which  we  were  led  a  moment 
ago,  while  inquiring  into  the  progress  of  moral  feelings,  showed 
us  that,  in  this  respect  also,  the  evolution  of  society  agrees  with 
the  evolution  of  life  in  general.  The  progress  of  a  community, 
as  of  an  organism,  is  a  process  of  adaptation, — a  continuous 
establishment  of  inner  relations  in  conformity  to  outer  relations. 
If  we  contemplate  material  civilization  under  its  widest  aspect, 
we  discover  its  legitimate  aim  to  be  the  attainment  and  main- 
tenance of  an  equilibrium  between  the  wants  of  men  and  the  out- 
ward means  of  satisfying  them.  And  while  approaching  this  goal 
society  is  ever  acquiring  in  its  economic  structure  both  greater 
heterogeneity  and  greater  specialization.  It  is  not  only  that 
agriculture,  manufactures,  commerce,  legislation,  the  acts  of 
the  ruler,  the  judge,  and  the  physician,  have  since  ancient  times 
grown  immeasurably  multiform,  both  in  their  processes  and  in 
their  appliances  ;  but  it  is  also  that  this  specialization  has  resulted 
in  the  greatly  increased  ability  of  society  to  adapt  itself  to  the 
emergencies  by  which  it  is  ever  beset.  The  history  of  scientific 
progress  is  in  like  manner  the  history  of  an  advance  from  a  less 
complete  toward  a  more  complete  correspondence  between  the 
order  of  our  conceptions  and  the  order  of  phenomena.  Truth  — 
the  end  of  all  honest  and  successful  research  —  is  attained  when 
subjective  relations  are  adjusted  to  objective  relations.  And 
what  is  the  consummation  of  moral  progress  but  the  thorough 
adaptation  of  the  desires  of  each  individual  to  the  requirements 
arising  from  the  coexistent  desires  of  all  neighboring  individuals  ? 
Thus  the  phenomena  of  social  and  of  organic  progress  are  seen 
to  correspond  to  a  degree  not  contemplated  by  those  thinkers 
who,  from  Plato  to  Hobbes,  have  instituted  a  comparison  between 
them.  The  dominant  characteristics  of  all  life  are  those  in  which 
social  and  individual  life  agree. 

1  Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy,  pp.  212-213. 


VIII 

THE  TRANSITION  FROM  A  PAIN   ECONOMY  TO  A 
PLEASURE  ECONOMY1 

Before  proceeding  further  in  the  discussion  of  the  social  forces 
the  distinction  between  a  pain  and  a  pleasure  economy  must  again 
be  emphasized.  Beings  in  a  pain  economy  have  vigorous  motor 
powers  but  a  low  development  of  the  sensory  powers.  As  they 
pass  from  one  environment  to  another  the  requisites  for  survival 
are  determined  by  the  enemies  and  pains  to  be  avoided.  Food 
and  pleasure  are  of  course  necessary,  but  they  are  not  the  main 
objects  of  conscious  thought.  When  such  beings  have  developed 
their  sensory  powers  far  enough  so  that  forms  of  thought  and 
ideals  are  created  which  aid  them  in  their  activities,  there  is 
formed  for  them  a  pain  society,  the  end  of  which  is  protection 
from  enemies.  There  is  a  pain  morality,  the  purpose  of  which  is 
to  keep  persons  from  committing  acts  and  putting  themselves  in 
situations  which  lead  to  destruction.  There  is  also  a  pain  religion, 
the  purpose  of  which  is  to  invoke  the  aid  of  higher  beings  in  the 
ever-recurring  contests  with  enemies  and  pain. 

In  describing  the  leading  features  of  a  pain  economy,  I  do  not 
mean  to  imply  that  men  in  such  an  economy  are  constantly  think- 
ing of  pain  and  never  of  pleasure,  but  that  all  their  institutions 
have  as  their  basis  the  fear  of  enemies  and  pain.  The  primitive 
state  is  formed,  as  Hobbes  tells  us,  to  secure  protection  from 
enemies.  The  primitive  morality  is  some  form  of  asceticism. 
When  enemies  abound  the  conscious  pursuit  of  pleasure  exposes 
a  being  to  the  attacks  of  these  enemies  and  the  consequent 
evils.  The  choosing  of  smaller  instead  of  greater  pleasures 
and  the  postponement  of  pleasures  until  the  ends  demanded  for 

1  From  The  Theory  of  Social  Forces,  by  Simon  N.  Patten,  chap,  iv  (copy- 
right, 1896,  by  American  Academy  of  Political  and  Social  Science,  Philadelphia). 

127 


128  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

protection  and  security  are  obtained  become  the  best  means  of 
prolonging  existence.  By  the  aid  of  these  social  forces  in  a  pain 
economy  many  of  the  highest  ideals  of  men  have  been  formed. 
Connected  with  these  ideals  is  a  series  of  impulses  which  prompts 
individuals  to  activities  in  harmony  with  the  conditions  under 
which  they  have  grown  up.  The  most  fundamental  character- 
istics of  the  human  race  belong  in  this  realm,  and  to  the  average 
individual  they  seem  to  be  the  only  bulwarks  by  which  society, 
morality,  and  religion  can  be  defended.  Yet  we  are  now  in  the 
transition  stage  from  this  pain  economy  to  a  pleasure  economy, 
and  it  is  necessary  to  see  what  changes  will  ensue  and  in  what 
way  ideals,  forms  of  thought,  and  impulses  must  be  modified  to 
meet  the  new  conditions. 

The  causes  of  a  pain  economy  lie  in  the  environment.  Vigor- 
ous enemies  deal  out  death  and  destruction  so  freely  that  the 
thought  of  isolated  individuals  is  concentrated  on  the  causes  and 
remedies  for  pain.  The  development  of  human  society  has  grad- 
ually eliminated  from  the  environment  the  sources  of  pain.  The 
civilized  world  has  been  freed  from  dangerous  beasts  and  reptiles, 
and  the  growth  of  large  nations  has  cut  off  the  danger  of  inva- 
sion by  barbarous  and  warlike  human  foes.  The  objective  envi- 
ronment is  now  merely  the  crust  of  the  earth  and  its  stock  of 
materials  and  goods.  The  sensory  powers  have  free  play  in 
analyzing  this  material  into  its  elements,  and  in  reorganizing  these 
elements  into  valuable  goods.  These  changes  make  a  pleasure 
economy  possible  and  destroy  the  conditions  which  made  the  sub- 
jective environment  of  the  old  pain  economy  a  necessity. 

It  is  not,  however,  to  be  assumed  that  the  transition  to  a 
pleasure  economy  is  an  easy  one.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  most 
difficult  process  and  one  fraught  with  many  evils  and  dangers. 
So  many  of  the  fundamental  ideas,  ideals,  and  impulses  of  the 
race  lose  their  efficiency  through  the  change  that  mankind  seems 
almost  without  a  rudder  to  guide  it  through  its  new  difficulties. 
Historical  evidence  would  seem  to  prove  that  a  pure  pleasure 
economy  is  an  impossibility.  Nation  after  nation  has  gone  down 
when  utilities  instead  of  pains  have  become  the  supreme  object 
of  interest.  Individuals  as  well  as  nations  show  the  deteriorating 


FROM  A  PAIN  TO  A  PLEASURE  ECONOMY         129 

influence  of  pleasure  as  soon  as  they  are  freed  from  the  restraints 
of  a  pain  economy.  This  tendency  to  deterioration,  however,  is 
an  evil  that  belongs  only  to  the  period  of  transition.  A  nation, 
after  undergoing  the  severe  discipline  of  an  unfavorable  environ- 
ment, suddenly  finds  itself  transferred  to  a  new  environment 
where  there  is  an  abundance  of  utilities  and  no  fear  of  enemies. 
The  old  safeguards  to  character  are  now  inadequate,  and  it  takes 
a  long  time  to  construct  a  new  series  of  safeguards  suited  to  the 
new  conditions.  In  the  meanwhile  individuals  sink  into  a  state 
of  lethargy  or  of  vice,  and  the  nation  is  so  weakened  that  some 
new  people,  coming  from  a  region  where  a  pain  economy  still 
prevails,  find  it  an  easy  conquest. 

Consequently  in  those  regions  where  a  pleasure  economy  is 
possible  nation  after  nation  has  risen  and  fallen,  without  ever 
developing  sufficient  strength  to  resist  the  encroachments  of 
enemies  disciplined  by  a  pain  economy.  A  pleasure  economy  can- 
not be  formed  by  any  kind  of  a  revolutionary  process.  There 
must  be  a  long  period  of  transition  in  which  the  leading  elements 
of  the  old  economy  are  gradually  lost,  and  in  their  places  the 
ideas,  ideals,  and  impulses  of  a  pleasure  economy  are  substituted. 
The  development  of  modern  nations  has  been  along  this  path. 
Without  a  conscious  departure  from  the  old  ideals  of  state,  mo- 
rality, and  religion,  there  has  been  a  gradual  substitution  of  certain 
ideals  and  impulses  of  a  pleasure  economy,  until  now  all  of  our 
leading  concepts  are  held  in  a  dual  form.  One  group  of  ideals 
and  impulses  is  the  conservator  of  past  conditions,  while  blended 
with  them  is  another  group  of  ideals  and  impulses  which  is  the 
outcome  of  the  new  conditions.  Such  a  state  of  affairs  cannot 
but  be  the  cause  of  much  confusion  and  distress.  The  only  hope 
of  progress  lies  in  separating  the  present  aggregate  of  forces 
into  their  elements  and  in  finding  to  which  group  each  ideal  and 
impulse  really  belongs. 

The  present  situation  can,  perhaps,  be  better  described  by 
returning  to  an  elementary  distinction.  It  has  been  shown  that 
progress  is  due  to  the  passing  from  one  environment  to  another, 
each  having  certain  requisites  for  survival.  The  purpose  of 
individuals  in  passing  from  environment  to  environment  is  not 


130  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

progress,  but  an  escape  from  competition.  The  easiest  way  out 
of  present  difficulties  is  taken  even  though  some  other  path  in 
the  long  run  would  better  serve  the  ends  of  the  race.  The  line 
of  least  resistance  often  forces  progress  to  take  a  circuitous  route, 
as  when  a  river  cutting  its  way  to  the  sea  often  makes  long 
curves  to  traverse  a  short  distance  because  of  some  obstacle  in 
the  direct  route. 

When  the  race  entered  a  pain  economy  it  was  forced  out  of 
the  direct  line  of  social  progress  into  a  series  of  environments 
where  the  requisites  for  survival  warded  off  pain  instead  of  pro- 
moting welfare.  The  early  instincts,  customs,  ideals,  and  religious 
forms  of  the  race  were  at  bottom  safeguards  from  enemies  and 
pains.  In  time,  however,  the  conditions  of  a  pain  economy 
became  less  severe  and  some  of  the  requisites  for  survival  came 
from  a  pleasure  economy.  The  line  of  progress  then  tended  to 
come  back  to  its  normal  trend,  and  now  after  a  long  detour  the 
race  finds  itself  at  a  point  on  the  normal  line  somewhat  in  advance 
of  the  point  of  departure.  The  environment  no  longer  demands 
a  pain  economy,  yet  the  instincts,  habits,  and  ideals  of  the  race 
have  been  acquired  during  this  long  period  of  abnormal  progress, 
and  there  are  no  proper  guides  for  activity  in  the  new  pleasure 
economy  into  which  the  race  is  admitted. 

To  put  itself  into  a  normal  condition,  the  race  must  construct 
an  artificial  channel  from  the  point  where  it  left  the  normal  line 
of  progress  to  the  point  where  it  now  is.  It  must  create  with 
design  the  same  impulses,  habits,  and  ideals  which  it  would  have 
had  if  the  normal  line  of  progress  had  not  been  abandoned.  The 
abnormal  impulses  and  ideals  of  the  pain  economy  must  be  dis- 
carded or  reconstructed  on  a  new  basis.  This  necessity  involves 
an  enormous  undertaking,  for  the  abnormal  course  of  events 
reaches  back  far  beyond  the  organization  of  men  into  societies. 

It  is  often  assumed  that  this  reorganization  is  an  easy  one  to 
beings  who  have  the  faculty  of  reason  to  guide  them.  If  reason 
were  that  independent  source  of  authority  which  many  meta- 
physicians hold  it  to  be,  something  might  be  hoped  for  from  it. 
But  reason  acts  only  on  the  impulses  that  lie  back  of  it,  and  they 
are  the  slow  accumulations  of  many  ages.  Doubtless  a  conscious 


FROM  A  PAIN  TO  A  PLEASURE  ECONOMY 

progress  can  save  the  race  from  many  evils  and  economize  much 
time,  but  it  cannot  alter  the  order  of  development  nor  eliminate 
any  of  its  steps.  Nations  cannot  become  fitted  for  the  conditions 
of  a  pleasure  economy  without  passing  through  a  stage  of  prog- 
ress where  the  elementary  ideas  and  impulses  are  adjusted  to 
one  another  by  the  crudest  form  of  evolution.  We  are  repeating 
this  early  process  at  present  with  a  great  loss  of  life  and  happi- 
ness. Individuals  brought  suddenly  into  a  pleasure  economy  fail 
to  react  against  their  environment,  yield  to  temptation,  and  sink 
into  vice.  The  new  impulses  and  ideals  appear  but  slowly,  yet 
perhaps  we  are  far  enough  along  to  see  something  of  their 
character  and  influence.  As  I  have  said,  they  are  already  a  part 
of  our  present  stock  of  ideas.  The  new,  however,  is  so  blended 
with  the  old  that  it  is  hard  to  isolate  them.  Perhaps  our  religious 
ideals  show  the  effect  of  the  transition  from  a  pain  to  a  pleasure 
economy  more  plainly  than  any  others.  The  concept  of  God 
possessed  by  primitive  races  is  but  little  separated  from  their 
concept  of  earthly  rulers.  They  serve  him  as  they  serve  their 
rulers,  from  fear  of  the  consequences  of  disobedience.  It  is  a 
rule  of  fear  tempered  with  a  hope  of  protection  from  enemies. 
With  a  clearer  perception  of  spatial  relations  their  concept  of 
God  removes  him  farther  from  the  sphere  of  earthly  rulers,  but 
he  is  still  thought  of  as  a  God  of  war  and  an  avenger  of  evil 
deeds.  When  the  development  of  the  sensory  powers  has  pro- 
gressed far  enough  to  create  a  concept  of  natural  law  and  of  the 
universe,  God  is  thought  of  as  the  creator  of  men  and  is  supposed 
to  use  his  power  and  foresight  to  ward  off  the  evils  which  come 
from  natural  forces.  When  men  advance  far  enough  to  see  that 
a  natural  retribution  does  not  follow  evil  deeds  in  this  life,  God 
becomes  the  final  judge  of  the  deeds  of  men.  So  far  there  has 
been  a  development  of  the  ideas  of  a  pain  economy  due  to  changes 
in  the  sensory  powers  of  men.  Force,  power,  and  omniscience  are 
the  leading  characteristics  of  the  ideal  of  God. 

At  length,  however,  a  new  thought  appears  in  the  form  of  the 
Christ  ideal.  Christ  is  not  the  God  of  war  and  hate,  but  the  God 
of  peace  and  love.  He  comes  not  as  the  ruler  of  men  but  as 
their  servant.  He  has  so  little  power  that  a  corporal's  guard  can 


132  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

crucify  him.  With  the  appearance  of  Christ  there  was  brought 
into  the  world  a  new  group  of  religious  ideas  quite  foreign  to 
those  previously  entertained.  The  old  ideals  were  fitted  for  men 
whose  foes  were  external  and  from  which  they  needed  a  pro- 
tector. A  God  of  power  who  was  an  avenger  of  evil  deeds  was 
a  fitting  ideal  for  men  in  such  a  condition.  But  when  men  are 
transferred  to  a  pleasure  world  their  evils  are  internal.  They 
are  their  own  foes.  They  want  relief  not  from  persecution  but 
from  temptation.  The  concepts  of  a  powerful  God  and  of  a 
future  retribution  are  of  little  help  to  men  in  such  a  situation. 
They  want  rather  a  model  for  imitation,  one  who  remains  pure 
even  though  subject  to  the  passions  and  temptations  of  men. 
The  likeness  to  man  is  emphasized  in  the  Christ  ideal  more  than 
the  likeness  to  God.  He  is  a  better  ideal  because  he  is  power- 
less and  helpless. 


IX 


Each  generation  must  write  its  own  history  of  past  events,  in 
order  to  interpret  them  in  terms  corresponding  to  its  needs. 
New  conditions  give  rise  to  new  problems,  and  these  to  new 
conceptions  ;  and  when  we  turn  again  to  examine  the  past,  we 
put  to  it  questions  never  before  asked.  Since  the  middle  of 
the  century,  when  the  victory  of  parliamentary  government  in 
western  Europe  was  finally  assured,  —  without,  however,  accom- 
plishing the  marvelous  results  expected  of  it,  —  the  question  as 
to  the  best  form  of  government  has  come  to  have  mainly  an 
academic  interest,  while  the  contests  of  actual  politics  have  more 
and  more  turned  upon  questions  of  social  and  economic  policy. 
This  shifting  of  the  center  of  interest  has  been  followed  by  a 
corresponding  change  in  the  character  of  historical  writing,  cul- 
minating in  the  rise  of  the  new  school 2  in  which  political  con- 
stitutions are  considered  as  results  rather  than  causes,  and 
attention  is  devoted  chiefly  to  the  economic  factor  in  history. 
Such  a  change  in  the  point  of  view  must  necessarily  alter  the 
perspective  of  history,  giving  more  prominence  to  such  phe- 
nomena as  have  an  important  bearing  on  economic  development. 

That  war  belongs  to  this  category  seems  altogether  beyond 
dispute.  If  it  be  true  that  all  great  events  are  due  in  large  part 
to  economic  causes,  and  react  in  turn  upon  economic  conditions, 

1  Edward  VanDyke  Robinson,  Political  Science  Quarterly,  Vol.  XV,  pp.  581- 
622. 

2  Represented  in   different  ways  by  men  so  unlike,  yet  having  so  much  in 
common,  as  Schmoller,  Lamprecht,  Ashley,  Biicher,  Loria,  and  Rabbeno.    Cf. 
Lamprecht's  Alte  und  neue  Richtungen  in  der  Geschichtswissenschaft,  and  the 
admirable  review  entitled  "  Features  of  the  New  History,"  by  Earle  Wilbur  Dow, 
in  the  American  Historical  Review  for  April,  1898. 


134  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

then  surely  it  will  no  longer  suffice  to  dismiss  this  subject  with 
the  customary  lamentations  about  the  horrors  and  waste  of  war, 
nor  even  with  some  more  or  less  probable  estimates  of  the  cost 
of  particular  wars.  The  time  has  certainly  come  when  an  inves- 
tigation is  needed,  to  show,  if  possible,  the  relation  of  war  as  an 
institution  to  the  economic  conditions  prevailing  in  the  several 
stages  of  civilization. 

I 

Among  tribes  subsisting  on  the  products  furnished  sponta- 
neously by  nature,  war  is  the  normal  condition.  The  reason 
is,  in  the  main,  economic.  The  scarcity  and  precariousness  of 
the  food  supply  render  much  land  necessary  to  support  each 
family.  Unless  climatic  conditions  absolutely  prevent  an  increase 
of  population,  the  hunting  grounds  of  the  several  tribes  are  of 
necessity  extended  until  they  overlap ;  and  so  arises  a  war  of 
extermination,  whose  issue  is  the  destruction  of  the  least  efficient 
social  organization  and  the  restoration  of  the  equilibrium  between 
population  and  food  supply.  At  this  stage  of  economic  develop- 
ment war  is  not  only  a  business  enterprise  but  the  only  conceiv- 
able business  enterprise,  —  the  only  means  by  which  a  vigorous 
tribe  may  procure  for  itself  an  increased  food  supply.  Neverthe- 
less, a  victorious  tribe  cannot  expand  without  breaking  up  into 
smaller  tribes,  for  the  economic  condition  forbids  men  to  dwell 
in  large  groups.  This  state  of  things  thus  tends  to  perpetuate 
itself.  Individual  tribes  may  rise  or  fall,  but  the  old  way  of  life 
goes  on  unchanged.  How,  then,  does  civilization  ever  emerge 
from  this  vicious  circle  ? 

This  is  a  question  not  yet  satisfactorily  answered,  though 
M.  Tarde's  imitation  theory,  and  the  culture  myths  of  all  races 
which  have  learned  the  secret  of  an  artificial  food  supply,  would 
indicate  that  individual  initiative  played  a  leading  part  in  the 
great  transformation.  But  the  most  brilliant  genius  could  do 
no  more  than  apply  to  the  satisfaction  of  an  existing  need  some- 
thing contained  in  or  suggested  by  his  environment.  And  it  is 
characteristic  of  human  nature  not  to  try  a  new  plan  until  the 
old  one  has  utterly  failed.  What,  then,  were  the  circumstances 
which  resulted  in  the  creation  of  an  artificial  food  supply  ? 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  135 

It  is  evident  that  before  this  could  happen  the  natural  food 
supply  must  have  proved  insufficient,  and  the  usual  remedy  in  such 
cases,  war,  must  have  failed  to  bring  relief.  At  first  glance  both 
these  conditions  would  appear  to  exist  among  tribes  worsted  in' 
battle,  and  one  is  tempted  to  think  he  has  discovered  another  of 
the  uses  of  adversity.  But  in  savage  warfare  the  defeated  party 
is  seldom  left  with  any  surplus  population ;  and,  even  when  their 
numbers  again  increase  or  the  tribe  is  forced  back  into  a  less 
productive  country,  the  creation  of  an  artificial  food  supply  is 
effectually  hindered  by  their  inability  to  defend  themselves  or 
their  possessions.  Instead  of  seeking  to  increase  their  resources, 
they  set  about  limiting  the  increase  of  population  by  a  systematic 
extension  of  the  practices  of  infanticide  and  "senicide,"  which 
exist  among  all  savages  but  reach  their  fullest  development 
among  tribes  unable  to  make  head  against  their  neighbors.  It  is 
not,  therefore,  among  the  conquered  that  the  origin  of  the  new 
industrial  system  must  be  sought ;  nor  yet  among  the  conquerors, 
if  they  have  been  able  by  conquest  adequately  to  supply  their 
needs.  It  is  rather  among  tribes  whose  equality  of  strength  or 
inaccessible  location  prevents  a  decisive  victory  that  the  creation 
of  an  artificial  food  supply  becomes  a  necessity  and  hence  a  fact ; 
and  the  same  rule  holds  good  concerning  most  of  the  subsequent 
steps  in  economic  progress.  In  other  words,  industrial  develop- 
ment is  the  result  of  strenuous  competition,  of  which  war  is  the 
most  acute  form. 

Whether  the  next  stage  shall  be  pastoral  or  agricultural 
depends  on  the  environment.  In  an  open  country,  where  there 
are  animals  suitable  for  domestication,  the  tribe  will  become 
pastoral ;  without  such  animals,  or  in  a  broken  forest  land,  it 
becomes  agricultural.  Other  things  being  equal,  the  change  to 
pastoral  life  is  the  more  easy  and  natural.  The  food  supply 
obtainable  from  a  given  area  being  greatly  increased,  the  popu- 
lation is  multiplied  in  like  proportion.  And  whereas  the  hunt- 
ing existence  scatters  the  population,  the  pastoral  life  tends  to 
greater  concentration  through  the  need  of  mutual  protection  for 
'the  herds,  and  to  social  and  political  consolidation  through  the 
development  of  a  patriarchal  organization.  For  this  reason,  while 


136  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

hunting  tribes  are  limited  to  guerrilla  warfare,  the  numbers,  dis- 
cipline, mobility,  and  readily  transported  food  supply  of  pastoral 
peoples  enable  them  to  undertake  distant  expeditions  and  to 
make  conquests  on  a  grand  scale.  These  things  are,  moreover, 
forced  upon  them  by  the  economic  limitations  inherent  in  their 
mode  of  life.  War  is  eventually  as  much  an  economic  necessity 
for  pastoral  as  for  hunting  tribes.  Population  depends  upon 
herds,  and  herds  upon  accessible  pasturage.  But,  owing  to  the 
rapid  increase  of  population  due  to  the  greater  regularity  and 
comfort  of  their  life  as  compared  with  hunting  tribes,  the  limit 
of  safety  is  soon  passed.  In  this  condition  the  least  failure  of 
pasturage,  from  drought  or  other  cause,  drives  them  forth  into 
distant  lands  with  the  suddenness  and  violence  of  a  tidal  wave. 
This  is  the  explanation  of  the  periodically  recurring  Volkerwan- 
derungen  which  have  swept  over  the  earth,  destroying  and 
founding  empires. 

When  hemmed  in  by  impassable  barriers  or  invincible  enemies, 
pastoral  tribes,  under  the  pressure  of  an  increasing  population, 
slowly  become  agricultural.  The  latter  case  was  illustrated  in  the 
Germans  beyond  the  Roman  lines ;  of  the  former,  examples 
may  be  found  in  Egypt,  Chaldea,  China,  Peru,  and  Mexico,  which 
early  became  centers  of  agriculture  less  because  of  their  natural 
fertility  —  since  in  most  of  them  irrigation  was  necessary  —  than 
because  of  their  inaccessibility.  They  were  so  fenced  about  by 
mountains  and  deserts  that  the  inhabitants  were  thrown  back  on 
their  own  resources  to  maintain  the  increasing  population.  More- 
over, for  the  same  reason,  they  were  largely  protected  against 
hostile  raids  during  the  early  period  of  agricultural  development, 
when  the  people,  scattered  upon  the  land,  fall  an  easy  prey  to 
every  marauder. 

Inaccessibility  would  thus  appear  to  be  as  advantageous  for 
the  origin  of  a  civilization  based  on  agriculture  as  accessibility  is 
for  its  continued  development.  Nevertheless,  even  in  the  most 
sheltered  lands,  the  necessity  of  self-defense  finally  leads  to 
division  of  labor  and  to  social  differentiation.  A  temporary  form 
of  this  division  was  the  arrangement  found  among  the  Suevi,  by 
which  the  men  alternately  tilled  the  land  and  went  out  to  war. 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS 

The  next  step  is  the  development  of  a  permanent  military  class. 
The  system  of  castes  is  an  economic  necessity  at  the  stage  of 
development  when  the  family  is  the  only  possible  school  of  prac- 
tical arts.  It  is  equally  "an  inevitable  incident  accompanying 
a  certain  stage  of  military  expansion."  And  it  is  likewise  the 
result  of  conquest  which  produces  slaves  and  subjects  to  be 
exploited  for  the  benefit  of  the  ruling  race,  —  a  result  whereof 
Sparta  is  the  classical  example.  All  three  causes  were  operative 
in  antiquity,  especially  in  the  Oriental  world.  The  great  empires 
which  flourished  there  all  rested  on  a  more  or  less  clearly  defined 
system  of  castes  ;  and  in  all  of  them  conquest  was  not  only  the 
origin  but  also  the  chief  end  of  the  state.  Under  the  circum- 
stances no  other  object  was  possible ;  for  the  lack  of  scientific 
knowledge  and  the  rigidity  of  the  social  system  narrowly  limited 
the  division  of  labor  and  rendered  not  only  agriculture  but  even 
manufacturing  relatively  unproductive.  It  was  inevitable,  there- 
fore, that  the  natural  increase  of  population  should  cause  the  law 
of  decreasing  returns  to  be  keenly  felt.  Where  should  relief  be 
sought  if  not  in  conquest,  —  in  the  booty  and  tribute  of  subject 
peoples  ?  To  this  all  nations  instinctively  turned. 

It  is  not  less  true,  therefore,  of  agricultural  than  of  shepherd 
nations,  that  war  ultimately  becomes  an  economic  necessity. 
For  the  time  comes  when  foreign  lands  must  be  drawn  upon  to 
feed  the  people,  and,  in  the  absence  of  international  division  of 
labor,  the  only  possible  means  to  this  end  is  war.  The  develop- 
ment of  commerce  on  a  grand  scale  and  the  use  of  a  money 
economy  do  not  remove  all  the  causes  tending  to  war ;  but  they 
open  up  the  possibility  —  barring  commercial  rivalries  —  of  a 
peaceful  expansion.  And  this  was  neither  possible  nor  conceiv- 
able in  a  natural  economy  such  as  characterized  the  Orient. 
This  fact  alone  explains  the  predominant  role  of  conquest  in  the 
ancient  world.1 

II 

In  passing  from  the  Oriental  nations  to  Greece  we  obtain  a 
glimpse  into  a  condition  of  things  infinitely  more  primitive. 

1  Cunningham,  Western  Civilization  in  its  Economic  Aspects,  pp.  13,  14,  24-38. 


138  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Here  we  find  in  its  beginnings  the  economic,  social,  and  political 
development  which  in  Asia  and  Africa  had  reached  maturity 
when  history  opens.  The  Greek  states  reproduce  in  miniature 
before  our  very  eyes  the  process  of  development  and  decay  which 
underlay  the  great  movements  of  ancient  history.  For  this 
reason  they  reveal  with  the  greatest  clearness  the  fundamental 
relations  of  industry  and  war. 

The  early  Greeks,  like  the  .^tolians  of  a  later  day,  were  a  rude 
race  —  half  pastoral,  half  agricultural,  and  still  partially  nomadic 
—  who  waged  war  ceaselessly  for  herds,  slaves,  and  fertile  lands. 
War  was  for  them  strictly  a  business  enterprise ;  or,  as  Goethe 

Krieg,  Handel  und  Piraterei 
Dreieinig  sind  sie,  nicht  zu  trennen. 

War  existed,  as  it  were,  by  nature ;  while  peace  required  to  be 
established  by  special  treaty.  This  is  seen  in  the  acrt/Xi'a,  —  that 
is,  exemption  from  spoliation,  —  which  was  granted  only  as  a 
special  favor.  It  is  seen  even  more  strikingly  in  the  fact  that  in 
Homer  piracy  is  a  distinctly  honorable  calling,  —  the  only  one,  in 
fact,  which  a  thorough  gentleman  may  follow.  The  wrath  of 
Achilles  grows  out  of  a  question  of  booty.  Agamemnon  con- 
stantly prays  that  he  may  "  plunder  the  well-built  city  of  Priam." 
And  the  Trojan  war  as  a  whole  is  evidently  a  piratical  expedi- 
tion of  Greek  vikings.  Moreover,  through  all  the  changes  of  ad- 
vancing civilization,  war,  and  even  private  war,  continued  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people  to  constitute  an  honorable  mode  of  acquisition. 
Innumerable  phrases  and  proverbs  scattered  through  Greek  lit- 
erature show  that  war  was  conceived  not  only  as  the  natural 
condition  between  all  men  but  also  as  the  source  of  wealth  and 
honor,  and  even  as  the  creative  principle  in  the  universe.1 

These  facts,  which  usually  furnish  the  text  of  a  sermon  on 
Greek  morality,  are,  in  a  broad  sense,  as  much  facts  of  nature, 

1  Iliad,  III,  69-74.  Od.,  IX,  39-42;  XIV,  210-234,  258-272.  Hymn  to 
Apollo,  452  et  seq.  Thucy.,  I,  1-21  ;  V,  105.  Pindar,  Frag.  151.  Plato,  Laws,  625, 
626.  Especially  striking  is  the  fragment  of  Herakleitos  :  ictiKtiux  irdvruv  fdv  irar^p 
tffTi,  irdvrwv  5£  /3curiXei>s,  Kal  rot>s  ft.lv  0eoi)s  tStil-f,  roi)s  5£  dvflpwirovs,  TOI>S  ntv  5otf- 
X<w  liroirjfff,  TOI>S  3£  Aeu0^pous  (Apud  Mullachium,  Frag.  phil.  grace.,  I,  320).  Cf. 
Arist.,  Eth.  Nicom.,  VIII,  2.  Plut.  de  Isid.  et  Osir.,  cap.  48. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  139 

and  as  little  suited  to  be  the  subject  of  ethical  judgment,  as  a 
tornado  or  an  earthquake.  The  task  of  science  is  to  understand, 
not  to  judge.  And  it  is  precisely  such  facts  as  these  which  fur- 
nish the  indispensable  clew.  Greek  history  is  "simple  and  com- 
plete," because  it  is  dominated  almost  exclusively  by  a  single 
cause.  The  Greek  states,  in  their  brilliance,  their  turbulence,  and 
their  swift  decay,  reveal  with  surprising  clearness  the  character- 
istics of  limited  political  areas,  in  which  the  question  of  land 
or  space  is  necessarily  fundamental.  From  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  their  history  every  important  economic,  military,  and 
political  movement  originated  in  the  effort  to  find  support  for 
a  redundant  population.  The  Dorian  conquest  was  the  work  of  a 
poor  and  hardy  tribe  whose  native  mountains  no  longer  afforded 
it  sustenance,  and  which  therefore  went  forth  to  seek  with  the 
sword  its  fortune,  in  distant  lands.  The  Greek  colonies  arose 
from  the  same  motives,  partly  through  plundering  raids  which 
ended,  like  those  of  the  Northmen,  in  conquest  and  settlement, 
partly  through  peaceful  emigration.  The  later  wars,  both  foreign 
and  domestic,  were  due  to  the  same  cause,  namely,  the  struggle 
for  land  and  food.  Even  the  growth  of  commerce  and  the  intro- 
duction of  a  money  economy,  while  altering  the  superficial  aspects 
of  the  struggle,  did  not  remove,  but  rather  intensified,  this  inces- 
sant and  deadly  competition.  It  divided  Greece  into  two  parties, 
—  the  one  continental,  agricultural,  military,  which  clung  to  the 
natural  economy  and  followed  the  lead  of  Sparta ;  the  other 
maritime,  commercial,  naval,  which  speedily  adopted  a  money 
economy  and  fell  largely  under  the  control  of  Athens  after  her 
transformation  from  a  continental  to  a  maritime  state.  That 
Sparta  remained  aristocratic,  while  Athens  became  democratic, 
was  a  result  rather  than  a  cause.  The  contrast  and  the  hostility 
between  the  two  states  and  the  interests  which  they  represented 
lay  deeper  than  forms  of  government ;  it  was  rooted  in  their 
very  mode  of  life.  It  was  the  irrepressible  conflict  between  a 
natural  and  a  money  economy,  —  the  old  struggle  for  existence 
in  a  new  form.  The  abiding  hostility  of  the  subject  cities  toward 
Athens,  and  of  the  social  parties  at  Athens  toward  each  other, 
bears  witness  to  the  same  irreconcilable  conflict  of  interests. 


140  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Confronted  with  the  necessity  of  feeding  a  population  greatly  in 
excess  of  her  resources,  the  Imperial  City  bent  every  energy  to 
procure  from  abroad  what  nature  had  denied  at  home,  not  only 
by  extending  her  export  trade  but  also  and  chiefly  by  exploiting 
to  the  utmost  her  political  position  and  her  command  of  the  sea.1 

The  wars  of  the  Hellenistic  period  were  due  to  the  same  cause. 
When  the  gold  and  arms  of  Philip  had  imposed  peace  on  the 
warring  cities  of  Greece,  he  planned  the  Asiatic  campaign  pri- 
marily in  order  to  provide  for  the  landless  men  who  swarmed  in 
the  Greek  cities,  a  constant  incitement  to  piracy  and  civil  war.2 
For  the  keen-eyed  Greeks  with  Xenophon  had  long  since  made 
it  known  to  their  countrymen  that  since  the  Persian  empire  was 
so  rich  and  so  weak,  it  was  their  own  fault  if  they  preferred  to 
abide  at  home  in  poverty  rather  than  be  masters  of  the  Persian 
wealth.  What  Xenophon  had  conceived  and  Philip  had  planned, 
Alexander  executed.  In  his  train  the  Greeks  swarmed  forth  like 
bees  in  springtime.  Greek  cities  sprang  up  on  every  side  as  if  by 
magic.  Greek  merchants,  administrators,  soldiers,  filled  the  land, 
carrying  their  tongue  and  civilization  into  the  wastes  of  central 
Asia  and  to  the  very  gates  of  India,  acquiring  in  turn  from  the 
fertile  East  the  wealth  which  their  narrow  and  rocky  fatherland 
denied  them.  This  stream  of  Greek  emigration  flowed  on  un- 
checked for  centuries.  The  peace  which  followed  at  home  was 
due  less  to  the  Macedonian  control  than  to  the  fact  that  this 
enormous  expansion  and  emigration  had  largely  dried  up  the 
perennial  fountain  of  contention  and  of  war. 

Events  so  important  and  dramatic  could  not  fail  to  make  a 
deep  impression  on  a  people  so  open-minded  and  thoughtful  as 
the  Greeks.  They  were  the  first  explicitly  to  recognize  and  state 
the  problem  of  war,  and  to  make  it  the  subject  of  scientific 
investigation.  The  course  of  events  thus  receives  additional  illus- 
tration and  interpretation  through  the  development  of  doctrine. 

Among  the  thinkers  whose  contributions  to  the  theory  of  war 
call  for  individual  mention,  the  earliest,  and  in  some  respects  the 
most  remarkable,  is  Hesiod.  His  voice  was  the  first  to  be  lifted 

1  Meyer,  Die  wirtschaftliche  Entwickelung  des  Alterthums,  pp.  39,  41. 

2  Isocrates,  V,  120. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  141 

in  protest  against  the  current  glorification  of  war.  Himself  a 
peasant,  he  undoubtedly  expressed  the  views  of  his  class,  who 
suffered  most  of  the  losses  of  war  while  others  reaped  its  rewards. 
Almost  alone  among  ancient  writers,  he  sings  of  labor.  In  words 
that  have  a  strangely  modern  ring  he  contrasts  the  fruitful  emu- 
lation of  industry  with  the  destructive  rivalry  of  war.  All  that 
the  school  of  Cobden  has  written  on  the  subject  is  but  an 
elaboration,  often  a  tedious  iteration,  of  the  views  here  expressed 
or  necessarily  implied.1 

The  next  author  to  discuss  war  from  the  economic  standpoint 
was  Thucydides.  It  would  be  no  exaggeration  to  call  his  work 
"the  economic  interpretation  of  Greek  history."  He  shows  in 
detail  how  the  Peloponnesian  war  resulted  from  the  pressure  of 
an  imperious  necessity,  namely,  a  large  population  and  poor 
soil,  which  rendered  Athens  as  unscrupulous  in  time  of  peace  as 
other  states  were  wont  to  be  in  war.  Hence  the  continual  con- 
fiscations at  home  ;  hence  also  the  exploitation  of  their  allies  and 
the  repeated  massacres  to  make  room  for  Athenian  colonists.2 

Essentially  the  same  point  of  vtew  prevails  in  the  early  writ- 
ings of  Xenophon.3  In  conformity  with  this  opinion  he  points 
out  the  complete  dependence  of  Athenian  power  and  prosperity 
upon  the  control  of  the  sea,  whereby  the  island  states  were 
delivered  helpless  into  her  hands,  the  continental  states  were 
constrained  to  obey  out  of  regard  for  their  commerce,4  and  the 
choicest  products  of  all  lands  were  diverted  from  those  who 
refused  to  do  her  bidding  and  carried  to  Athens,  which  thus 
lived  by  the  toil  of  others.5  But  the  long  series  of  wars  that 
brought  ruin  upon  all  Greece  moved  Xenophon,  in  his  last  work, 
to  seek  some  escape  from  the  policy  of  aggression,  considering 
that  "  if  it  were  possible  for  the  citizens  of  Athens  to  be  sup- 
ported solely  from  the  soil  of  Attica  itself,  .  .  .  herein  lay  .  .  . 
the  antidote  to  their  own  poverty  and  to  the  feeling  of  suspicion 
with  which  they  are  regarded  by  the  rest  of  Hellas."6  After 

1  Works  and  Days,  II,  1 1-26. 

2  Thucyd.,  I,  15,  70;  II,  13,  38;  III,  82;  V,  116. 

8  E.g.  Oecon.,  I,  15.  6  Ibid.,  II,  7,  8,  n.    Thucyd.,  I,  119. 

4  Government  of  Athens,  II,  1-3.  6  Revenues  of  Athens,  chap.  i. 


142  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

dwelling  upon  the  sources  of  profit  not  yet  fully  utilized,  especially 
mines  and  commerce,1  he  shows  that  peace  is  an  indispensable 
condition  for  the  full  enjoyment  of  these  natural  advantages,  and 
calls  to  mind  that  Athens  was  twice  installed  as  chief  of  the 
naval  confederacy  for  services  to  Hellas,  and  twice  overthrown 
for  selfishly  misusing  her  power.  And  then  he  adds : 

Of  all  states  Athens  is  preeminently  adapted  by  nature  to  flourish  and 
wax  strong  in  peace.  And  while  she  abides  in  peace  she  cannot  fail  to 
exercise  an  attractive  force  upon  all.  .  .  .  Again,  is  any  one  per- 
suaded that,  looking  to  riches  and  money  making,  the  state  may  find 
war  more  profitable  than  peace?  .  .  .  Even  at  the  present  time  we 
are  suffering  from  its  ill  effects.2 

In  this  passage  the  war  economy  of  the  ancient  world  is  tried  at 
the  bar  of  reason  and  experience,  and  explicitly  condemned  on 
economic  grounds. 

Very  similar  conclusions  are  found  in  Plato,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  he  is  concerned  to  know,  not  whether  war  or  peace 
is  the  more  profitable,  but  which  is  the  more  favorable  to  the  true 
life,  the  attainment  of  virtue.  Regarding  the  soul,  and  all  per- 
taining thereto,  as  infinitely  superior  to  the  body,  he  naturally 
determines  the  worth  of  all  things  by  their  relation  to  these 
parts  of  men.  By  this  criterion,  accordingly,  he  measures  war. 
In  the  Republic  he  shows  in  detail  how  war  arises  inevitably 
from  the  increase  of  population  and  the  consequent  competition 
of  neighboring  states  for  land.3  From  this  it  follows  that,  con- 
sidered as  an  occupation,  war,  as  also  trade  and  hunting,  is 

unproductive  or  acquisitive  —  since  none  of  these  produces  anything, 
but  is  only  engaged  in  conquering,  by  word  or  deed,  or  in  preventing 
others  from  conquering,  things  which  exist  and  have  been  already 
produced.4 

This  analysis  of  war  leads  inevitably  to  its  rejection  as  the  end 
of  state  activity.  For  this  reason,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his 

1  Revenues  of  Athens,  chaps.  2,  3.  Memor.,  II,  7. 

2  Revenues,  chap.  5. 

«  Rep.,  II,  372,  373;  VIII,  547,  548.    Phaedo,  66. 
*  Sophist,  sees.  219,  222.    Laws,  sec.  823. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  143 

own  ideal  state  is  modeled  on  the  Dorian  institutions  of  Sparta 
and  Crete,  Plato  severely  condemns  these  states  for  their  devo- 
tion to  war,  —  a  condemnation  which  must  have  astonished  his 
contemporaries,  who  saw  in  these  states  the  fullest  realization  of 
the  universal  ideal,  not  less  than  it  does  the  Spartan  and  Cretan 
interlocutors  in  the  dialogue.  His  conclusion  is  that 

war,  whether  external  or  civil,  is  not  the  best,  and  the  need  of  either  is 
to  be  deprecated,  but  peace  with  one  another  and  good  will  are  best. 
.  .  .  No  one  can  be  a  true  statesman,  whether  he  aims  at  the  happi- 
ness of  the  individual  or  the  state,  who  looks  only  or  first  of  all  to 
external  welfare ;  nor  will  he  ever  be  a  sound  legislator  who  orders 
peace  for  the  sake  of  war,  and  not  war  for  the  sake  of  peace.1 

Nevertheless,  idealist  though  he  is,  and  filled  with  a  fine  scorn  of 
the  military  virtues,  Plato  does  not  dream  of  abolishing  war.  On 
the  contrary,  he  clearly  perceives  that  the  least  aggressive  of 
states  would  still  need  protection,  and  he  recognizes  a  decay  of 
the  military  spirit  as  a  symptom  and  cause  of  national  decadence.2 
Aristotle  reaffirms  in  the  main,  and  further  develops,  the  doc- 
trines of  Plato.  His  criterion  is  the  same,  namely,  the  true 
life,  the  attainment  of  virtue.  In  the  spirit  of  Plato's  distinc- 
tion between  Greek  and  barbarian  he  justifies  slavery,  and  also 
war  for  the  acquisition  of  slaves,  on  the  ground  that  "animate 
instruments  are  quite  as  necessary  as  inanimate,"  and  that 
barbarians  are  intended  by  nature  for  slavery.  Such  a  war  he 
classes  as  a  species  of  hunting,  which  is  itself  a  part  of  the  art 
of  acquisition  (fcrrjTtKij) .  But  while  thus  classifying  and  justi- 
fying war  as  a  mode  of  acquisition,  Aristotle  emphasizes,  even 
more  than  Plato,  that  it  is  only  a  means  to  an  end,  and  that  to 
sacrifice  the  end  to  the  means,  as  is  done  in  states  organized 
solely  for  war,  is  the  height  of  absurdity.  And  he  closes  his 
condemnation  of  the  prevalent  war  economy  with  words  whose 
profound  wisdom  the  world  has  been  slow  to  fathom. 

Facts  as  well  as  arguments  prove  that  the  legislator  should  direct  all 
his  military  and  other  measures  to  the  provision  of  leisure  and  the 

1  Laws,  I,  625,  626,  628,  630,  638;  VII,  803,  829 ;  VIII,  829. 

2  Statesman,  307.    Rep.,  V,  470;  VIII,  547,  548,  551. 


144  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

establishment  of  peace.  For  most  of  the  military  states  are  safe  only 
while  they  are  at  war,  but  fall  when  they  have  acquired  their  empire. 
...  First  of  all,  men  should  provide  against  their  own  enslavement, 
and,  in  the  second  place,  obtain  empire  for  the  good  of  the  governed.1 

It  was  only  yesterday  that  Mr.  Kidd  interpreted  to  an  aston- 
ished world,  still  under  the  spell  of  Cobden,  what  this  last  clause 
really  means.  But  unfortunately,  owing  to  Aristotle's  preposses- 
sions in  favor  of  the  primitive  or  "  natural  "  mode  of  life  and  his 
prejudices  against  the  division  of  labor  and  a  money  economy 
(XprjpaTHTTiKfy,  which  he  considers  "contrary  to  nature,"  he  is 
led  to  condemn  those  industries  which,  not  being  subject  to  the 
law  of  -decreasing  returns,  have  largely  released  the  modern  world 
from  the  bondage  to  nature  and  the  resulting  pressure  of  imperi- 
ous necessity  that  formerly  rendered  war  perpetual.  And  for  the 
same  reasons  he  opposes  the  taking  of  interest,  without  which 
production  obviously  cannot  be  conducted  on  a  scale  large  enough 
to  bring  into  operation  the  law  of  increasing  returns.  Here,  then, 
is  the  weak  point  in  his  system.  He  criticises  Plato's  proposal 
to  maintain  a  stationary  population  through  communism  ;  he  dis- 
parages the  artificial  industries  which  have,  as  he  says,  "power 
of  indefinite  expansion  "  ;  he  fails  to  suggest  any  other  means  of 
equalizing  production  and  population  ;  and  yet  he  condemns  war. 
As  well  forbid  the  oak  to  heave  up  the  soil  or  burst  asunder  the 
stones  that  impede  its  slow  but  mighty  growth. 

Ill 

The  Romans  were  originally  a  pastoral  people,  and  as  such 
necessarily  dependent  on  war  to  enlarge  their  pasture  lands. 
The  same  condition  confronted  them  during  and  after  their 
transition  to  agriculture.  War  was,  therefore,  the  normal  con- 
dition ;  peace,  the  exception.  Beati  possidentes  was  a  favorite 
legal  maxim.  In  the  words  of  Gaius,  "  Maxime  sua  esse  crede- 
bant  quae  ex  hostibus  cepissent."  Even  after  the  transition  to  a 
money  economy,  marked  by  the  social  crisis  in  the  fifth  and 
fourth  centuries,2  the  policy  of  conquest  underwent  no  change. 

1  Pol.,  I,  3-6,  8,  9;  II,  9;  VII,  2,  14,  15.  2  Meyer,  op.  fit.,  p.  24. 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS 


'45 


The  first  reason  was  the  inland  location  of  the  city,  which  pre- 
vented commerce  on  a  large  scale  and  thus  made  war  the  only 
possible  form  of  national  expansion.  The  second  and  perhaps  no 
less  important  reason  was  the  force  of  habit,  the  power  of  tradi- 
tion. The  Romans  were  descended,  so  they  believed,  from  the 
war  god,  and  all  the  roots  of  their  history  were  entwined  with 
war.  How  should  they  tear  themselves  loose  from  their  past, 
love  what  they  had  despised,  and  despise  what  they  had  loved  ? 
"The  commercial  nations  must  work  for  us,"  they  said.  "Our 
business  is  to  conquer  them  and  levy  contributions  on  them.  Let 
us  then  continue  war,  which  has  rendered  us  their  masters,  rather 
than  give  ourselves  to  commerce,  which  has  made  them  our 
slaves."  Vergil's  debellare  superbos  has  the  true  Roman  ring ; 
so  also  have  the  words  of  Cicero,  when  he  holds  commerce  dis- 
graceful and  declares,  "  Rei  militaris  virtus  praestat  ceteris  omni- 
bus :  haec  nomen  populo  Romano,  haec  huic  urbi  aeternam  gloriam 
peperit."  His  defense  of  conquest  and  of  discriminations  against 
the  provinces  breathes  the  same  spirit. 

At  a  later  date,  it  is  true,  there  was  a  slight  reaction  from 
these  views,  which  remained,  however,  without  practical  effect. 
Cicero  was  moved  by  the  authority  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  to  an 
inconsistent  and  half-hearted  expression  of  peaceful  sentiments.1 
The  Stoics  discarded  the  doctrine  of  a  natural  distinction  between 
masters  and  slaves,  thus  leaving  #0  theoretical  justification  for 
slavery.  Seneca  even  has  a  violent  polemic  against  conquest,  as 
sentimental  as  St.  Pierre.2  With  the  dissolution  of  all  social  and 
national  ties,  and  the  growth  of  extreme  philosophical  individual- 
ism, the  idea  of  universal  peace  made  its  appearance,  arising,  no 
doubt,  from  the  legend  of  the  golden  age.  Strabo  discusses  it 
and  concludes  that  a  permanent  "balance  of  power"  is  pre- 
requisite. Probus,  attempting  somewhat  prematurely  to  dispense 
with  an  army,  fell  a  victim  to  this  ideal.  But  social  corruption 
resulted,  as  in  the  time  of  Rousseau,  in  a  passionate  longing  for 
an  ideal  "state  of  nature";  and  this,  reenforcing  the  current 
prejudice  in  favor  of  a  natural  and  against  a  money  economy, 

1  De  Off.,  I,  ii,  81. 

2  Diog.  Laert.,  VII,  i,  122.    Epict.,  II,  8.    Seneca,  Ad  Luc.,  sec.  47- 


146  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

effectually  prevented  any  analysis  of  the  real  causes  of  economic 
decay.  Pliny,  who  had  pointed  out  the  most  striking  symptom  of 
disease,1  nevertheless  failed  to  get  at  the  root  of  the  matter ; 
instead,  he  was  carried  away  by  the  prevailing  sentimentality  of 
his  age.  Expressing  the  thought  common  to  all  his  contempo- 
raries, he  interpreted  literally  Vergil's  auri  sacra  fames,  described 
each  step  in  the  manufacture  of  money,  from  the  mining  to  the 
stamping  of  the  metal,  as  a  see/us,  the  cause  of  all  evils  and  crimes, 
and  finally  exclaimed,  "  Quantum  feliciore  aevo,  quum  res  ipsae 
permutabantur  inter  se." 

Economic  conditions  and  national  traditions  thus  combined 
to  foster  the  policy  of  conquest  and  exploitation.  Its  success 
exceeded  the  wildest  dreams  of  avarice.  Well  could  the  Roman 
poet  sing,  "  Now  Rome  is  golden,  since  she  possesses  the 
mighty  treasure  of  the  conquered  world." 2  All  roads  led  to 
Rome ;  and  all  roads  were  but  channels  for  the  booty  and  trib- 
ute of  the  provinces.  Millions  of  the  conquered  became  slaves, 
who  toiled  for  individual  masters.  Those  who  retained  their 
liberty  and  property  were  none  the  less  slaves,  who  toiled  for  a 
collective  master,  the  Roman  people.  The  provincials  Cicero 
describes  as  "  in  servitudine  nati  ";  the  provinces,  as  "praedia 
populi  Romani  "  and  "  nervi  rei  publicae."  They  paid  tribute  in 
money,  in  grain,  in  soldiers  ;  they  equipped  the  fleet,  clothed  and 
fed  the  army ;  they  gave  contributions  in  a  thousand  forms ; 
finally,  stripped  of  money  and  of  property,  they  borrowed  back 
from  the  Roman  capitalists,  at  fabulous  interest,  a  portion  of  what 
they  had  paid  a's  taxes.3  The  exploitation  of  the  provinces,  which 
began  when  the  Roman  armies  returned  laden  with  booty  and 
when  the  best  lands  were  declared  public  property,  thus  continued 
in  a  variety  of  forms  after  their  submission,  and  grew  more  relent- 
less with  every  passing  year.  However  pursued,  it  was  a  part  of 
the  Roman  y«.r  belli  infinitum:  ubijus  belli,  ibijus  usurae. 

In  Rome,  therefore,  the  ideal  of  conquest  was  realized  and 
embodied  in  unrivaled  completeness  and  splendor.  To  unlimited 

1  Hist.  Nat.,  XVIII,  7.  2  Ovid,  Halieut,  11.  7,  8. 

8  Bruder,  "  Zur  oekon.  Charakteristik  des  rom.  Rechts,"  Zeitschrift  fur  dte 
ges.  Staatrwissenschaft,  XXXII,  629-635. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  147 

power  was  added  fullness  of  time  in  which  to  demonstrate,  once 
for  all,  what  are  the  fruits  of  a  war  economy,  —  how  he  fares  who 
eats  his  bread  in  the  sweat  of  another's  face.  The  long  death 
agony  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  hopeless  decay,  the  inevitable 
end,  over  which  Gibbon's  stately  style  has  shed  a  melancholy 
splendor,  and  for  which  so  many  profound  reasons  have  been 
given,  had,  after  all,  a  very  simple  and  prosaic  cause,  —  consump- 
tion exceeded  production! 

This  condition  was  due  to  two  chief  causes.  The  first  was  the 
system  of  slave  labor.  As  our  own  experience  shows,  such  a 
system  is  of  necessity  unproductive.  It  demands  great  estates, 
few  and  simple  crops,  extensive  cultivation,  and  abundance  of 
fresh  land.  At  best  it  creates  but  a  slight  surplus  over  the  cost 
of  maintenance;  and  when  fresh  land  is  no  longer  available,  so 
that  intensive  cultivation  becomes  necessary,  it  speedily  ceases  to 
create  any  surplus.  It  was  the  knowledge  of  this  fact  that  spurred 
on  the  Southern  leaders  in  the  United  States  to  extend  slave 
territory;  it  was  the  operation  of  this  law  that,  after  Roman 
conquests  ceased,  transformed  serui  into  coloni.  In  the  mean- 
time, so  long  as  it  exists,  the  slave  system  tends  to  destroy,  or  to 
prevent  the  growth  of,  a  middle  class  and  a  free  laboring  class. 
There  is  no  economic  place  in  society  for  them.  They  stand 
outside  the  division  of  labor.  Population  is  stationary,  or  even 
decreases  ;  the  natural  resources  of  the  country  are  not  devel- 
oped ;  capital  plays  little  part  in  the  process  of  production.  While 
land  and  wealth  fall  into  fewer  and  fewer  hands,  and  a  few 
colossal  fortunes  strike  the  eye,  society  as  a  whole  grows  con- 
stantly poorer,  because  only  a  part  of  the  people  work,  and  they 
only  under  compulsion.  Truer  words  were  never  spoken  than 
these  of  Pliny  :  "  Latifundia  perdidere  Italiam,  jam  vero  et 
frovincias." 

The  second  cause  for  the  excess  of  consumption  over  produc- 
tion was  the  absence  of  industry  at  Rome.  Her  trade  was  merely 
"to  crush  grain  and  men."  This  reduced  commerce  to  the 
importation  of  tribute  in  kind  or  of  goods  bought  with  tribute 

1  Roscher,  Ansichten,  p.  44.    Kautz,  Nationaloek.,  I,  144,  148. 


148  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

money.1  In  consequence,  the  automatic  character  of  normal 
commercial  and  financial  relations  was  wanting,  and  there  was  a 
constant  and  increasing  discrepancy  between  national  production 
and  national  consumption.  This  made  itself  felt  in  several  ways. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  provinces,  which  paid  over  so  large  a 
portion  of  their  annual  produce,  were  impoverished  and  ruined ; 
on  the  other  hand,  the  Italians  suffered  the  same  fate  through 
the  forced  competition  of  colonial  produce.  Thus  the  production 
of  wealth  steadily  and  rapidly  decreased,  both  in  Italy  and  the 
provinces  ;  while  at  the  same  time  the  unproductive  consumption 
of  wealth  grew  apace  through  the  largesses  of  corn,  the  increas- 
ing centralization  of  administration,  and  the  multiplication  of 
capitals,  courts,  and  officials.  Moreover,  since  there  was  no  export, 
except  of  money,  there  was  a  constant  flow  of  precious  metals  to 
the  Orient,  beyond  the  frontiers,  in  payment  for  imported  luxu- 
ries. The  consequence  was  a  "money  famine"  of  the  most 
serious  and  far-reaching  character.  As  prices  fell  the  payment 
of  taxes  became  more  and  more  difficult,  and  finally  impossible, 
at  the  very  time  when  the  fiscal  needs  of  the  empire  were  rising 
by  leaps  and  bounds.  The  Roman  world  was  convulsed.  The 
money  economy,  which  had  formed  the  basis  for  imperial  admin- 
istration, collapsed ;  the  ancient  natural  economy  reappeared. 
Tribute  was  increasingly  paid  in  kind.  Soldiers  and  officials 
received  grants  of  land  in  lieu  of  salaries.  Change  of  occupation 
became  practically  impossible.  Society  crystallized  into  a  regular 
system  of  castes.2  Feudalism  was  in  process  of  development. 
But  all  in  vain.  The  economic  disease  of  which  the  empire  was 
perishing  had  eaten  too  deeply  into  its  vitals.  Moreover,  the 
cause  still  remained ;  consumption  still  exceeded  production. 
The  provinces  were  desolate,  the  people  starving,  the  army 
scattered  and  broken,  and  the  barbarians  were  at  the  gates. 
Need  we  wonder  that  they  were  received  with  open  arms  ?  Rome 

1  Pliny,  Hist.  Nat.,  XII,  18.    Tac.,  Ann.,  Ill,  53.    H.  von  Scheel,  "  Die  wirt- 
schaft.  Grundbegriffe  in.  Corpus  Juris  Civilis,"  in  the  Jahrbuch  fiir  ATationaloek., 
1866,  pp.   324,   329-335.     Mengotti,   Memoria  sul  commercio   dei   Romani :    "I 
Romani  non  ebbero  altro  commercio  che  quello  di  transportare  in  Italia  tutte  le 
ricchezze  .  .  .  del  mondo  conquistato." 

2  Bruder,  XXXIII,  695. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS 


149 


was  a  huge  economic  parasite,  which  had  wound  her  tentacles 
about  the  provinces,  sucking  out  their  lifeblood,  until  in  destroy- 
ing them  she  necessarily  destroyed  herself  and  sank  lifeless  in  a 
desert  of  her  own  creation. 

Among  the  northern  barbarians  we  find  a  condition-  of  things 
still  more  primitive  than  in  the  Homeric  age  or  the  reign  of  Romu- 
lus. What  the  Gauls  of  Brennus  and  the  Goths  of  Alaric  were, 
that  the  Greeks  and  Romans  had  been  when  Athens  and  Rome 
were  places  without  a  name.  War  was  universally  conceived  by 
them  as  the  natural  condition  of  man,  existing  per  se,  and  con- 
stituting the  most  honorable  source  of  gain.  A  Gallic  chieftain 
first  uttered  that  cry  which  became  the  Roman  motto  :  Vae  metis. 
And  of  the  Gauls  Cicero  reports,  "  Galli  turpe  esse  ducunt  fru- 
mentum  manu  quaerere,  itaque  armati  alienos  agros  demetunt." 
The  Germans  were,  if  possible,  still  more  warlike,  and  avowed 
with  nai've  directness  the  purpose  of  conquest  and  exploitation 
which  the  Romans  of  that  day  had  learned  to  cloak  with  plausi- 
ble pretexts.1  The  cause  for  such  opinions  and  practices  was 
not  human  depravity  but  economic  necessity.  For  example,  the 
Suevi,  who,  as  Caesar  states,  "  lived  very  little  on  grain,  princi- 
pally on  milk  and  flesh,"  waged  ceaseless  warfare  to  keep  the 
country  unoccupied  for  great  distances  in  all  directions,  simply 
because  without  such  pasture  lands  their  herds  and  they  them- 
selves would  perish.  It  was  a  question  not  of  vainglory,  as 
Caesar  seems  to  intimate,  but  of  self-preservation.  The  same 
thing  is  true  of  the  great  Celtic  and  Germanic  migrations.  The 
motive  was  not  love  of  wandering  nor  lust  of  fighting;  it  was 
hunger.2  When  the  land,  as  men  understood  how  to  use  it, 
could  no  longer  sustain  the  people,  they  were  confronted  with 
the  grim  alternative  which,  in  some  form,  has  stared  the  human 
race  in  the  face  at  every  stage  of  barbarism  and  of  civilization, 
namely,  migration  —  that  is,  war  —  or  starvation.  Sometimes 
they  had  recourse  to  the  ancient  Aryan  custom,  known  also  to 
Greece  and  Italy,  called  the  Ver  Sacrum.  Youths  chosen  with 

1  Caesar,  De  Bello  Gallico,  I,  36,  44  ;  IV,  3.    Tac.,  Ger.,  XIV.    Livy,  V,  36. 

2  Arnold,  Deut.  Urzeit,  pp.  251-260.     Lamprecht,  Deut.  Gesch.,  "Die  Volker- 
wanderungen."    Von  Ihering,  Evolution  of  the  Aryan,  pp.  159,  259,  383,  384. 


150  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

religious  rites  would  go  forth,  a  band  of  Ishmaelites,  to  find  new 
homes  or  to  perish,  as  the  fortune  of  war  decided.  Sometimes, 
when  hard  pressed,  the  entire  nation  would  join  the  migration. 
It  was  thus  that  the  Gauls  under  Brennus,  and  the  Cimbri  and 
Teutones,  entered  the  Roman  Empire,  having  arms  in.  their 
hands,  but  with  the  prayer  for  land  constantly  upon  their  lips. 
Let  the  Roman  people  grant  them  land,  and  they  would  be  faith- 
ful allies.  It  was  the  same  with  the  Helvetii  and  the  Usipites 
and  Tencteri,  who  matched  their  strength  in  vain  against  Caesar's 
legions.  And  it  was  the  same  with  the  Marcomanni  and  with  the 
invaders  who  finally  overran  the  western  provinces. 


IV 

The  later  wars  of  the  Middle  Ages,  after  the  close  of  the  Vol- 
kerwanderungen,  may  be  divided  into  four  classes  :  ( i )  defensive 
wars,  against  new  invaders  ;  (2)  feudal  or  territorial  wars  ;  (3)  the 
Crusades  ;  (4)  commercial  wars. 

Defensive  wars  originated  in  the  attempt  of  tribes  in  less 
fertile  lands  to  thrust  themselves  into  the  place  occupied  by  the 
conquerors  in  the  old  Roman  provinces,  and  to  appropriate  the 
revenues  derived  from  the  subject  population.1  Notwithstanding 
local  successes,  such  as  those  of  the  Northmen  on  the  Atlantic, 
the  Arabs  on  the  south,  and  the  Magyars  and  Turks  on  the 
east,  these  invasions  were,  on  the  whole,  unsuccessful,  and  ceased 
altogether  as  soon  as  the  industrial  development  in  Europe  had 
produced  such  a  division  of  labor,  and  consequently  such  a  social 
and  political  organization,  as  to  give  the  defenders  unquestioned 
military  superiority.  This  organization  was  found  first  in  feudal- 
ism and  later  in  centralized  states  and  standing  armies  based  on 
a  money  economy.  In  both  cases,  however,  while  the  foundation 
was  economic,  the  active  cause  was  military.  The  invaders  were 
baffled,  in  the  end,  by  the  organization  which  their  own  assaults 
had  called  into  existence.  This  was  the  case  with  the  Arabs  in 
Spain  and  France,  the  Danes  in  England,  the  Huns  and  Magyars 
in  Germany. 

1  Molinari,  Grandeur  et  decadence  de  la  guerre,  pp,  42-48,  63. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  151 

Feudalism  is  the  system  in  which  a  standing  army,  quartered 
on  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  is  intrusted  with  the  defense  and  admin- 
istration of  the  country.  War  and  government  are  both  private 
undertakings.  For  a  purely  agricultural  population,  with  a  natural 
economy,  there  is  no  other  solution  of  the  problem.  The  peasants, 
scattered  and  occupied  on  the  land,  cannot  be  utilized  for  war ; 
nor  can  soldiers  or  officials  be  paid  except  by  grants  of  land. 
This  explains  the  recurrence  of  feudalism  in  ages  and  countries 
so  remote  from  each  other  as  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  imi- 
tation ;  for  example,  China,  Japan,  Assyria,  Persia,  Egypt,  Abys- 
sinia, Mexico,  Peru.  Moreover,  feudalism  is  at  once  the  result 
and  the  cause  of  war.  As  Laurent  says :  "  La  guerre  est  son 
unique  occupation,  c'est  sa  fonction  social.  .  .  .  Chaque  baron 
avait  le  droit  de  guerroyer,  et  il  en  usait,  comme  aujourd'hui  tout 
individu  emploie  ses  facultes  dans  le  travail."  Land  being  the 
only  source  of  wealth,  the  only  form  of  business  enterprise  was 
to  acquire  more  land.  To  do  this  there  were  only  two  means,  — 
marriage  and  war.  Both  were,  therefore,  pursued  as  systematically 
as  any  form  of  industrial  enterprise  is  to-day.  But  a  marriage 
involving  landed  interests  almost  invariably  began  or  ended  in 
war,  —  a  fact  of  which  Austrian  history  affords  striking  exam- 
ples, in  spite  of  the  well-known  couplet  commending  Venus  above 
Mars.1  At  bottom,  therefore,  the  one  form  of  business  under- 
taking was  war.  It  enriched  the  feudal  lords  through  lands  and 
serfs  ;  it  enriched  their  knights  and  retainers  through  booty  and 
ransom.  A  war  with  France  was  long  esteemed  the  only  method 
by  which  an  English  gentleman  could  become  rich.  Throughout 
the  Middle  Ages,  therefore,  the  military  classes  everywhere  held 
fast  to  the  ancient  German  belief  in  the  rightfulness  of  acquiring 
wealth  by  force  of  arms,  —  a  belief  clearly  and  tersely  expressed 
in  the  Westphalian  proverb  : 

Riithen  und  Roven  dat  is  gheine  Schandh', 

Dat  dohn  de  Besten  im  ganzen  Land. 

The  division  of  booty  became  finally  a  regular  system  of  dividends 
yielding  a  large  annual  interest  on  the  capital  invested  in  military 

1  Bella  gerant  alii,  tu  felix  Austria  nube, 

Quae  dat  Mars  aliis,  dat  tibi  regna  Venus. 


152  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

preparations.  It  was  this  vested  interest  of  the  nobility  in  the 
continuance  of  war  that  for  centuries  defeated  every  attempt  to 
abolish  private  war.  They  had  sublet  their  estates  for  the  purpose 
of  providing  troops,  until  the  land  could  not  support  so  many 
nonproducers,  and  war  was  the  only  business  in  which  they 
could  be  employed.1  The  wars  which  the  kings  and  princes 
waged  with  each  other,  and  those  which  they  carried  on  to  crush 
the  lesser  nobles,  belong  to  the  same  class  of  feudal  wars,  since 
they  had  the  same  origin,  namely,  rivalry  for  control  of  the 
revenues  from  landed  estates. 

The  Crusades  appear  to  stand  in  a  somewhat  different  cate- 
gory, because  of  their  avowed  object  and  their  connection  with 
the  church.  In  order  to  determine  to  what  extent  this  was  really 
the  case,  a  brief  glance  at  the  history  of  Christian  doctrines 
concerning  war  appears  advisable. 

The  early  fathers  of  the  church  regarded  war  and  Christianity 
as  quite  irreconcilable.  This  view  was  held  by  Clement  of  Alex- 
andria, Tertullian,  Origen,  Lactantius,  Basil,  the  Manichaeans, 
and  especially  the  Montanists.2  Nevertheless,  from  the  first 
many  Christians  did  enlist  ; 3  and  the  reconciliation  of  the  church 
and  the  state  under  Constantine  quickly  produced  the  result 
usually  observed  when  opposition  parties,  either  political  or  eccle- 
siastical, come  into  power,  —  a  tendency  radically  to  modify,  and 
even  to  reverse,  the  views  previously  held.  The  chief  advocates 
of  the  legitimacy  of  war  were  St.  Ambrose  and  St.  Augustine. 
The  former  allowed  war  in  defense  of  property  and  country.  The 
latter,  although  deprecating  war  and  slavery,  nevertheless  justi- 
fied both.4  From  this  time  the  military  part  in  the  church  con- 
stantly grew  and  the  peace  party  declined,  until  the  time  of  the 

1  Vita  Heinrici  IV  Imperatoris,  cap.  8. 

2  Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  chap.  xvi.    Herzog,  Real-Ency.  fur  protest.  Theolo- 
gie,  "  Krieg."    Nys,  Le  Droit  de  la  guerre  et  les  precurseurs  de  Grotius,  pp.  24,  82. 

8  Tertullian,  Apol.,  sec.  42,  "  Navigamus  et  nos  vobiscum  et  militamus." 
*  "  Quid  culpatur  in  bello?  An  quia  moriuntur  quandoque  morituri,  ut  domi- 
nentur,  in  pace  victuri?  Hoc  reprehendere  timidorum  est,  non  religiosorum."" 
Contra  Faustum,  Lib.  XXII,  cap.  74,  75.  Cf.  Epist.,  207,  Ad  Bonif. ;  and  De  Civi- 
tate  Dei,  Lib.  IV,  cap.  15  ;  Lib.  XIX,  cap.  7.  Also  Isodorus,  Etymologiae,  Lib.  V, 
cap.  iv-vii.  Nys,  pp.  73,  74,  113.  Maistre,  Soirees  de  St.-Petersbourg,  II,  20. 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS  153 

Crusades,  when  the  military  spirit  was  blended  with  religious 
fanaticism,  the  clergy  and  the  army  were  fused  in  the  religio- 
military  orders,  and  the  bellum  Dei  replaced  the  treuga  Dei. 
This  change  in  conceptions  and  doctrines  is  clearly  exhibited  in 
the  citations  collected  in  Gratian's  Decretum,  dating  from  1150, 
when  the  change  was  complete  and  the  church  militant  in  un- 
disputed possession  of  the  field.1  At  the  time  of  the  Crusades, 
therefore,  as  well  as  during  subsequent  centuries,  the  representa- 
tives and  spokesmen  of  the  established  order,  in  church  and  state, 
were  committed  to  the  defense  of  war.  Those  of  the  schoolmen  2 
especially,  who  sought  to  prove  the  harmony  of  reason  and  reve- 
lation, and  the  divine  origin  of  the  existing  social  and  political 
order,  naturally  framed  their  theories  of  war  on  contemporary 
practice  ;  and  their  successors,  the  jurists,  followed  their  example 
in  this  respect.3 

Current  mediaeval  doctrines,  therefore,  ecclesiastical  as  well  as 
secular,  tended  rather  to  accentuate  than  to  obliterate  the  busi- 
ness side  of  the  Crusades.  And  certainly  there  is  little  in  the 
conduct  of  the  Crusaders,  or  in  their  letters,  to  indicate  that  they 
had  generally  left  behind  them  the  motives  and  passions  which 
found  expression  in  other  mediaeval  wars.  It  is  true  that  their 
imaginations  were  fired  by  pictures  of  the  hardships  of  pilgrims 
and  the  desecration  of  holy  places  ;  but  they  were  also  fired  — 
and  much  more  effectually,  it  would  appear  —  by  tales  of  the 
fabulous  wealth  of  the  Orient,  of  the  gold  and  silver  and  beautiful 
women  waiting  the  hand  of  the  spoiler.4  All  the  kingdoms  and 
riches  of  the  infidels  belonged  by  right  to  Christians,  whose  priv- 
ilege and  duty  it  was  to  seize  them  without  delay.5  Men  were 
the  more  inclined  to  accept  this  invitation  because,  in  spite  of 

1  Secunda  pars,  causa  xxiii,  quaestio  prima :  "  An  militare  sit  peccatum." 

2  Cf.  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Summa  Theol.,  secunda  secundae,  quaestio  lx,  "  De 
bello." 

8  Cf.  Giovanni  di  Lignano,  De  bello,  "  Bella  provenisse  a  Deo  mediante 
machina  coelesti  naturaliter  operando  "  (Nys,  p.  77).  Grotius,  De  jure  belli  ac 
pacis,  I,  2,  sec.  4. 

4  "  Amor  auri  et  argenti  et  pulcherrimarum  foeminarum  voluptas  "  (the  Em- 
peror Alexis  to  the  Count  of  Flanders). 

6  Brunus,  apud  Nys,  pp.  95,  96. 


154  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

pestilence  and  war,  the  population  of  Europe  had  already  reached 
a  point  where  the  law  of  decreasing  returns  began  to  inflict 
hardship.  The  younger  son,  who  remained  a  social  problem  and 
danger  for  the  next  five  centuries,  and  later  played  so  notable 
a  part  in  the  conquest  and  colonization  of  the  New  World,  had 
already  made  his  appearance.  Where  land  was  entailed,  and  no 
wilderness  remained  in  which  to  carve  out  new  estates,  he  was 
driven  forth  to  seek  a  livelihood  by  his  sword.  Wrhere  subdivi- 
sion had  been  practiced  holdings  had  grown  so  small  that  the 
revenues  no  longer  supported  the  feudal  tenants  in  their  accus- 
tomed mode  of  life,  whence  arose  oppression  of  the  peasants, 
who  were  impoverished  to  make  good  the  deficiency ;  but  in  spite 
of  this  many  of  the  feudal  lords  had  fallen  hopelessly  in  debt. 
From  all  these  causes  there  resulted  a  dangerous  social  ferment 
and  unrest ;  landless  and  impoverished  men  of  every  class  stood 
ready  for  any  undertaking,  however  desperate,  that  promised 
relief  from  their  misery.  To  all  such  the  Crusades  seemed 
indeed  a  call  from  heaven.  But  when  experience  showed  that  the 
difficulties  were  greater  and  the  rewards  less  than  had  been  sup- 
posed, the  crusading  zeal  flagged,  and  it  became  necessary  to 
offer  greater  and  greater  bounties,  not  only  spiritual  but  also  and 
especially  material  in  character.  Finally,  as  Molinari  acutely 
remarks  :  "  Lorsque  1'experience  cut  d&nontre  que  les  croisades 
ne  payaient  pas  —  on  y  renon^a  et  les  guerres  d' expansion  des 
peuples  de  1'Europe  ne  recommencerent  qu'apres  la  decouverte 
de  I'Amerique."  1 

The  last  class  of  mediaeval  wars,,  namely,  the  commercial, 
were  intimately  connected  with,  and  in  part  a  continuation  of, 
the  Crusades.  The  Italians  had  regarded  the  conquest  of  the 
Orient  as  a  commercial  venture ;  the  Venetians  utilized  the 
Fourth  Crusade  to  establish  their  commercial  monopoly  at  Con- 
stantinople. From  this  arose  prolonged  and  desperate  wars, 
especially  between  Genoa  and  Venice,  whose  common  object  was 
the  advancement  of  their  own  commerce  through  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  dangerous  competitor.  But  such  wars  did  not  originate 
at  that  time,  nor  were  they  confined  to  Italy.  No  one  can  read 

1  Grandeur,  etc.,  p.  49. 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS  155 

Machiavelli's  History  of  Florence  or  the  early  chronicles  of  any 
mediaeval  city  without  perceiving  that  commercial  rivalry  shaped 
their  whole  policy.  The  history  of  the  intricate  and  incessant 
wars  between  Pisa  and  Florence,  which  Guicciardini  narrates 
at  such  appalling  length,  is  merely  an  illustration  of  what  went 
on  all  over  Europe,  especially  in  Italy,  Germany,  and  the  Low 
Countries,  where  commercial  interests  were  strongest.  In  fact,  the 
history  of  the  commercial  cities  from  the  eleventh  to  the  fifteenth 
century  reveals,  on  a  small  scale,  all  the  features  which  have 
characterized  the  history  of  commercial  nations  from  the  fifteenth 
to  the  nineteenth  century.  The  one  all-important  difference  is 
that,  by  a  wider  division  of  labor  and  greater  activity  of  the  cen- 
tral government,  the  economic  unit  has  grown  from  the  city  state 
to  the  national  state. 

V 

As  the  Middle  Ages  drew  to  a  close  and  the  spread  of  a  money 
economy  enabled  rulers  to  replace  feudal  levies  with  standing 
armies,  wars  seemed  to  increase  in  magnitude  and  destructive- 
ness.  The  task  on  which  men  labored  was  that  of  nation  making, 
and  nations  are  seldom  born  except  on  the  field  of  battle.  The 
existing  conditions,  social  as  well  as  political,  all  tended  to 
war.  The  population,  turned  back  from  the  East  by  the  failure 
of  the  Crusades  and  the  advance  of  the  Turks,  became  increas- 
ingly congested.  The  social  ferment  arid  unrest  which  had  pre- 
ceded the  Crusades  was  again  abroad.  Every  land  was  filled 
with  "sturdy  beggars,"  whom  the  laws  and  the  gibbet  were 
powerless  to  control.  The  younger  son  was  again  a  menace  to 
social  and  political  security.  When  Columbus  happened  upon 
America  while  seeking  a  new  route  to  the  Indies,  these  conditions 
facilitated  the  speedy  conquest  and  permanent  colonization  of  the 
New  World.  But  the  relief  thus  afforded  was  not  sufficient :  the 
social  pressure  precipitated  the  wars  of  national  expansion,  which 
began  in  Italy  two  years  after  the  voyage  of  Columbus  and  con- 
tinued, with  short  intermissions,  for  three  centuries.  And  polit- 
ical theories  faithfully  reflected  existing  conditions.  Machiavelli, 
Bacon,  Raleigh,  Grotius,  Hobbes,  Bossuet,  Spinoza,  Pascal, — all 


156  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

held  that  war  was  conformable  to  the  first  principles  of  nature. 
However  they  differed  in  other  respects,  all  publicists  agreed  in 
considering  the  state  as  an  economic  unit  whose  interests  were  to 
be  advanced,  as  occasion  offered,  by  commerce,  tariffs,  and  arms.1 
In  other  words,  they  held  the  mercantile  theory.  That  this  con- 
tained certain  false  ideas  no  one  would  deny,  but  the  mercantile 
theory  was  nevertheless  the  only  one  suitable  for  the  age. 

In  the  tremendous  struggle  that  was  to  decide  which  of  the 
peoples  should  have  room  to  grow,  and  thus  in  the  end  to  part 
"the  living  from  the  dying  nations,"  there  were  four  periods. 
The  first  was  marked  by  the  Italian  wars  from  1495  to  1559; 
the  second,  by  the  so-called  religious  wars  from  1559  to  1648  ; 
the  third,  by  the  series  of  contests  between  the  maritime  powers 
from  1648  to  1 763,  —  contests  "  carried  on  without  truce  or  inter- 
mission among  tropical  islands  and  on  strange  seas,  for  colonies, 
commerce,  and  the  balance  of  power  "  ;  the  fourth,  by  the  Napo- 
leonic wars,  which  Professor  Sloane  has  shown  to  have  been 
a  continuation  of  the  same  contest.2  And  now,  after  nearly  a 
century  of  comparative  peace,  we  have  recently  seen  the  begin- 
ning of  another,  or  fifth,  epoch  of  strenuous  international  compe- 
tition for  commerce  and  colonies. 

The  Italian  wars  resulted  from  a  conflict  not  merely  of  royal 
ambitions  but  also  of  national  interests.  Nominally  territorial  in 
object,  they  were  at  bottom  largely  commercial.  Italy  was  rich, 
divided,  and  weak,  —  a  condition  sure  to  invite  foreign  inter- 
ference. France  was  filled  with  that  dream  of  Oriental  com- 
merce and  dominion  which  is  her  heritage  from  the  Crusades, 
and  to  this  end  control  of  Italy  and  the  Italian  fleets  was  pre- 
requisite. And  Charles  V  waged  war  in  Italy  not  by  arms  alone 
but  by  tariffs ;  not  merely  in  support  of  his  claims  as  emperor 
and  as  king  of  Spain,  but  also,  and  perhaps  chiefly,  as  the  ruler 
and  representative  of  the  Low  Countries,  who  saw  in  the  Italian 
cities  their  most  dangerous  competitors. 

It  was  not  otherwise  with  the  religious  wars.  Sweden  fought 
that  she  might  control  the  Baltic.  France  aided  Protestants  in 

1  Naude,  Die  Getreidehandel-Politik  der  europaischen  Staaten,  Berlin,  1896. 

2  "The  Continental  System,"  Political  Science  Quarterly,  Vol,  XIII,  p.  212. 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS 


157 


order  to  weaken  the  Hapsburgs.  The  German  princes  changed 
sides  as  interest  dictated.  Holland  grew  rich  from  the  plunder 
and  commerce  of  her  foes.  Schmoller  even  declares,  "The 
heroic  struggle  of  the  Dutch  displays  itself,  when  looked  at  in  a 
dry  light,  as  a  century-long  war  for  the  conquest  of  East  Indian 
colonies,  and  an  equally  long  privateering  assault  on  the  silver 
fleets  of  Spain  and  the  Spanish- American  colonial  trade."  This 
reasoning  applies  with  even  more  force  to  the  English  wars 
of  the  period.  The  Elizabethan  sea  kings  combined  religion, 
politics,  and  business  with  a  keen  eye  for  the  main  chance. 
And  Cromwell,  who  inherited  their  spirit  and  plans,  had,  like 
them,  a  twofold  quarrel  with  Spain.  "  On  the  side  of  Mammon 
he  covets  Spanish  treasure.  On  the  side  of  God  he  is  opposing 
Antichrist."  1 

Out  of  the  religious  wars,  therefore,  grew  the  national  com- 
mercial wars  which  filled  the  last  half  of  the  seventeenth  century 
and  all  of  the  eighteenth  century.  They  all  arose  from  one  and 
the  same  cause, — the  effort  to  maintain  or  to  break  down  a 
monopoly  of  trade.  At  first,  since  Spain  claimed  and  energet- 
ically enforced  a  monopoly  of  the  New  World,  the  other  maritime 
powers  made  common  cause  against  her.  This  was  especially 
true  in  the  West  Indies,  where  the  buccaneers — English,  French, 
and  Dutch — went  trading  or  fighting  as  occasion  offered;  priva- 
teers in  war,  pirates  in  times  of  nominal  peace,  but  always  with 
the  sympathy  and  support  of  their  compatriots  in  the  colonies, 
and  always,  whatever  their  disagreements,  the  sworn  enemies  of 
Spain.  They  furnish,  indeed,  a  most  interesting  example  of  the 
survival  upon  the  sea  of  that  ancient  belief  in  the  rightfulness  of 
private  warfare  which  rendered  piracy  almost  as  respectable  a 
calling,  in  the  days  of  Drake  and  Morgan,  as  it  had  been  in  the 
time  of  Odysseus  or  Rollo  of  Normandy.  By  1650,  however, 
the  Spanish  sea  power  was  broken  ;  and  Cromwell,  who  secured 
in  Jamaica  the  naval  base  indispensable  for  English  operations 
in  the  Caribbean  Sea,  at  once  threw  down  the  gage  of  battle 
to  Holland,  then  mistress  of  the  seas.2  For  the  Dutch,  having 

1  Egerton,  Short  History  of  British  Colonial  Policy,  p.  65,  London,  1897. 
8  Seeley,  Expansion  of  England,  pp.  146-148. 


158  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

ousted  the  Portuguese  and  Spaniards  in  the  East  Indies,  had 
adopted  and  even  extended  the  restrictive  and  violent  measures 
whereby  their  predecessors  had  destroyed  the  Arabic  commerce. 
But  this  duel  with  Holland  was  soon  overshadowed  by  the 
growing  industrial  and  commercial  preponderance  of  France, 
which  forced  England  and  Holland  to  unite  for  self-preservation. 
This  occurred  first  in  1668,  when  the  Triple  Alliance  checked 
the  conquests  of  Louis  XIV  in  the  Netherlands.  In  the  War  of 
the  Palatinate  (1689-1697)  the  English  and  Dutch  again  fought 
side  by  side  against  the  common  foe  ;  and  at  La  Hogue  their  fleets 
wrested  from  France  the  mastery  of  the  sea.  In  the  War  of  the 
Spanish  Succession  ( 1 702-1 7 1 3)  the  same  struggle  was  continued, 
to  the  decided  advantage  of  England,  who  obtained  Gibraltar  and 
portions  of  Canada  and  the  West  Indies.  In  addition  she  acquired 
valuable  commercial  rights  in  Portugal  by  the  Methuen  Treaty, 
and  in  the  Spanish  colonies  by  the  famous  Assiento  Contract, 
whereby  a  legal,  although  limited,  right  of  participation  was 
granted  in  the  lucrative  Spanish-American  trade.  This  war  was 
undoubtedly  a  "  commercial  success  "  so  far  as  England  was  con- 
cerned. So  greatly  was  commerce  stimulated  that  the  wildest 
speculation  ensued,  culminating  in  the  South  Sea  Bubble,  which 
burst  in  1 72 1 .  In  spite  of  this,  however,  commerce  and  industry 
continued  to  expand.  But  in  1733  France  and  Spain  concluded 
a  family  compact  whereby  the  latter  bound  herself  to  transfer  to 
France  the  share  in  the  Spanish-American  trade  then  held  by 
England  under  the  Assiento  Contract,  and  both  pledged  them- 
selves to  oppose  England's  commercial  and  colonial  expansion. 
This  compact  led  to  war  with  Spain  (1739-1748),  which  merged 
into  the  War  of  the  Austrian  Succession.  The  war  was  waged  in 
America,  India,  Europe,  and  on  every  sea.  The  treaty  of  Aix- 
la-Chapelle  restored  English  rights  under  the  Assiento  Contract 
and  confirmed  her  possession  of  Acadia ;  but  it  settled  none  of 
the  questions  which  had  produced  the  war.  It  was  therefore  a 
truce,  not  a  peace  ;  and  fighting  was  soon  resumed  in  America 
over  the  control  of  the  Ohio  valley,  without  a  formal  declara- 
tion of  war.  The  fundamental  issue  in  the  Seven  Years'  War 
(1756-1763)  was  "  whether  maritime  and  commercial  supremacy 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  159 

for  the  next  hundred  or  two  hundred  years  should  belong  to  Eng- 
land or  France."  The  success  of  England  was  decisive.  Spain 
and  Holland  had  long  since  fallen  behind ;  now  France,  the  last 
of  her  rivals,  was  stripped  of  colonial  dominions. 

The  English  trade  grew  by  leaps  and  bounds.  The  enormous 
demand  for  manufactures  stimulated  the  genius  of  her  artisans 
and  produced  the  era  of  great  inventions,  which  in  turn  revolu- 
tionized the  industry  of  the  world  and  established  England's 
supremacy  for  a  century  to  come.  So  far  did  she  distance  all 
possible  competition  through  these  new  methods  that  she  could 
safely  discard  and  disown  the  very  means  by  which  she  had 
attained  this  supremacy.  This  fact  is  the  economic  foundation  of 
the  free-trade  doctrine  which  Adam  Smith  proclaimed,  and  which 
henceforth  became  increasingly  popular ;  but  for  half  a  century 
more  the  mercantilist  tradition  retained  its  ascendency  in  the 
councils  of  state.  The  thirteen  colonies  were  driven  to  revolt  in 
large  part  by  the  pressure  of  this  economic  system,  which  they 
had  outgrown  ;  for  while  they  had  previously  prospered  under  the 
system  of  mutual  monopoly,  they  now  found  that,  with  increase 
of  numbers,  the  market  of  the  home  country  no  longer  absorbed 
their  surplus  products  at  a  profitable  price.  The  War  of  the 
Revolution  had,  therefore,  the  same  origin  as  the  other  colonial 
wars  of  the  two  preceding  centuries.  England  fought  to  retain 
her  monopoly,  the  colonists  to  break  it,  and  France  and  Spain  to 
destroy  the  British  Empire.  It  was  this  purpose  that  dictated 
their  secret  proposal  to  England  that  the  colonists  be  confined 
between  the  mountains  and  the  sea.  And  it  was  the  same  pur- 
pose which  caused  the  intrigues  of  France  with  the  discontented 
Western  settlers,  through  citizen  Genet  and  others,  aiming  to 
win  them  to  French  allegiance  and  thereby  to  recover  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley.  Nor  did  this  purpose  cease  to  animate  French 
policy  until  the  Louisiana  Purchase.  That  England  also  con- 
tinued long  to  cherish  the  same  hope  is  shown  by  her  retention 
of  the  Western  forts.  The  War  of  1812  really  formed  the  closing 
episode  of  the  Revolution.1 

1  Rives,  "  Spain  and  the  United  States  in  1795,"  American  Historical  Review, 
Vol.  IV,  p.  62. 


160  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  wars  of  the  French  Revolution  began,  as  all  the  world 
knows,  in  a  conflict  of  democracy  and  monarchy.  But  other  and 
more  material  reasons  lurked  in  the  background  from  the  start; 
and  as  time  passed  these  became  more  and  more  prominent. 
The  Girondists  precipitated  the  first  war  in  order  to  fortify  their 
own  position  by  gratifying  the  traditional  French  craving  for 
conquest.  England  was  drawn  into  the  contest  because  the 
French  conquests  menaced  her  commerce.  And  under  Napoleon 
the  war  became  a  duel  between  England  and  France  for  the  com- 
mercial empire  of  the  world.  This  is  the  reason  why  Napoleon 
undertook  the  campaign  in  Egypt  and  Syria  and  planned  with 
the  czar  an  attack  on  India.  For  the  same  reason  he  instituted 
.the  Continental  System  for  the  destruction  of  English  trade, 
while  England  retaliated  with  the  Orders  in  Council,  designed  to 
crush  French  industry.  For  the  same  reason  both  parties  plun- 
dered American  commerce,  whose  growth  filled  them  with  envy 
and  alarm.  The  final  victory  of  England  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  great  inventions  called  forth  by  her  commercial  oppor- 
tunities, which  in  turn  resulted  from  success  in  previous  wars, 
had  given  her  such  a  start  in  industry  that  her  colonies  lately  in 
revolt  bought  more  from  her  after  the  Revolution  than  ever 
before,  that  Europe  could  not  dispense  with  her  products,  and 
that  even  Napoleon  himself  was  forced  to  connive  at  smuggling 
of  English  goods  in  order  to  supply  his  army.  And  her  victory 
in  war  left  England  in  a  position  of  industrial  and  commercial 
supremacy  which  has  enabled  her  to  feed  her  growing  population 
abundantly  while  the  millions  of  the  Continent  hungered,  and 
to  maintain  her  position  as  the  first  of  European  nations  against 
all  comers. 

VI 

War  for  commerce  thus  culminated  in  the  conflict  which  cen- 
ters about  Napoleon,  but  it  did  not  altogether  cease  with  his  fall. 
It  is  true  that  in  continental  Europe  a  new  coloring  was  given 
to  most  of  the  wars  which  followed  through  the  development  of 
the  sentiment  of  nationality.  But  this  was  itself  conditioned  by 
economic  changes  consequent  upon  the  belated  development  of 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  l6l 

national  economies  out  of  the  smaller  economic  units.  The  most 
powerful  cause  in  the  consolidation  of  Germany  and  Italy  was 
thus  the  same  which  led  to  the  transformation  of  the  United 
States  from  a  league  of  states  into  a  federal  state,  namely,  the 
pressure  of  economic  interests  as  embodied  in  commerce.  This 
motive  appears  even  more  clearly  in  the  invasion  of  Algiers 
(1830) ;  the  Crimean  War,  waged  by  England  in  defense  of  the 
route  to  India;  the  Chinese  wars  (1857-1860)  ;  and,  finally,  in 
the  invasion  of  Mexico  (1861-1867).  The  leading  objects  of  this 
undertaking,  as  defined  by  Napoleon  III  in  a  letter  to  the  French 
commander,  were : 

(i)  To  place  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  absorption  of  this  part  of 
Mexico  by  the  United  States,  and  (2)  to  prevent  the  Anglo-Saxon 
federation  from  becoming  the  sole  medium  and  the  sole  mart  for  the 
commodities  and  the  commerce  of  the  North  American  continent.1 

But  these  commercial  wars  of  the  nineteenth  century  are 
scattered  and  trivial  episodes  compared  with  those  of  the  pre- 
ceding century.  After  the  overthrow  of  Napoleon,  as  Schmoller 
points  out,  "  another  spirit  begins  to  make  its  way  in  commercial 
policy  and  in  international  morality."  The  sources  of  this  change 
were  two, — political  events  and  philosophic  doctrines.  The  revolt 
of  the  American  colonies,  English  and  Spanish,  was  a  staggering 
blow  to  the  old  colonial  system.  And  the  increase  of  commerce 
between  the  United  States  and  England  after  their  separation 
convinced  men  that  the  old  system  had  been  from  the  start  the 
creation  of  supreme  folly,  defeating  the  end  it  was  intended  to 
serve.  On  the  other  hand,  "  ideas  of  a  humane  cosmopolitanism 
began  to  instill  into  men  the  thought  of  a  change  of  policy  in  the 
economic  struggles  of  European  states  at  the  very  time  when 
the  international  rivalry  had  reached  its  highest  point."  2  These 
ideas  were  in  part,  perhaps  in  the  main,  merely  an  application  to 
politics  of  the  philosophical  individualism  of  the  Aufklarung ;  in 
part,  also,  they  were  the  offspring  of  a  distinct  theoretic  move- 
ment, hostile  to  war,  which  had  gathered  momentum  for  several 

1  Quoted  in  Gallaudet's  International  Law,  p.  94. 

2  Schmoller,  p.  79. 


1 62  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

centuries  past.  During  the  Middle  Ages,  when  the  military  spirit 
first  mastered  the  church,  Emmery  de  la  Croix  wrote  a  remarkable 
work  in  which,  for  the  first  time  since  the  advent  of  Christianity, 
peace  was  advocated  on  economic  grounds.  From  that  time  until 
recent  years,  amidst  the  wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  there  has  been 
an  unbroken  succession  of  peace  advocates.  Since  the  partisans 
of  the  established  order  in  church  and  state  had  undertaken  the 
defense  of  war,  these  advocates  of  peace  have  naturally  appeared, 
for  the  most  part,  among  dissident  sects  and  parties.1  It  was 
Dante,  the  exiled  Ghibelline,  who  first  gave  worthy  expression 
to  the  ideal  of  universal  peace  through  a  universal  monarchy.  A 
contemporary  of  Dante,  Marsilius  of  Padua,  at  heart  a  republican 
and  a  Protestant,  ably  seconded  Dante's  appeal.  Toward  the  end 
of  the  same  century  Wyclif  in  England  and  Raoul  de  Presles 
in  France  assailed  the  military  spirit,  especially  in  the  church. 
The  latter  denied  the  rightfulness  of  all  aggression,  expressly 
condemning  the  Crusaders  on  this  ground,  and  concluding, 
"  Bella  geramus  ut  pacem  habeamus ;  esto  ergo  bellando  pacifi- 
cus."  But  it  remained  for  Erasmus,  with  all  the  power  of  his 
genius,  to  sum  up  the  ethical  and  religious  objections  to  war  in  a 
passionate  invective  and  appeal  which  has  always  remained  the 
arsenal  of  the  peace  party.  Unfortunately,  as  in  most  works  of 
its  class,  the  appeal  is  mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  to  the  feelings. 
A  century  later  the  same  idea,  with  more  emphasis  on  the 
economic  side,  was  taken  up  by  Sully,  who  drew  up  a  plan  for 
"la  paix  perpetuelle  de  1'Europe."  If  he  is  to  be  credited, 
Henry  IV  really  intended  to  anticipate  the  czar  in  calling  a 
peace  conference,  —  after  he  should  have  rearranged  boundaries 
according  to  his  own  ideas.  Tommaso  Campanella,  who  reveals 
the  plan  of  the  imperialists  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  expected 
universal  peace  under  a  universal  Spanish  monarchy  after  all 
heretics  should  have  been  exterminated.  William  Penn,  in  his 
Plan  for  the  Peace  of  Europe,  makes  a  serious  and  well-considered 

1  For  example,  the  Christians  in  ancient  times,  and  more  recently  the  Vaudois, 
Lollards,  Anabaptists,  Mennonites,  Quakers,  and  Philippones.  Such  of  the 
reformed  sects  as  became  state  churches  immediately  took  up  the  defense  of  war. 
Cf.  Luther,  Ob  Kriegsleute  auch  in  seligem  Stande  seien  kiinden,  and  Art.  16  of 
the  Augsburg  Confession.  The  same  principle  applies  to  political  parties. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  163 

argument  for  peace,  based  chiefly  on  the  economic  damage  caused 
by  war.  The  Abbe  de  Saint-Pierre,  who  derived  his  ideas  from 
Sully  and  through  him  from  Erasmus  and  Emmery  de  la  Croix, 
published  in  1713  an  intolerably  diffuse  and  sentimental  Projet 
de  paix  perpetuelle,  providing  for  a  grand  alliance,  to  prevent  war 
by  mediation.  The  combined  effect  of  the  ruinous  wars  just 
ended,  the  individualistic  philosophy  of  the  Aufklarung,  and  the 
sentimentality  of  the  age  gave  this  work  quite  a  vogue.  Its  influ- 
ence may  be  traced  in  Swift's  bitter  satires  and  also  in  those  of 
Voltaire,  in  spite  of  his  mocking  verse  concerning  the  worthy  abbe". 
Rousseau  was  also  deeply  influenced,  as  may  be  seen  in  his  Extrait 
du  projet  de  M.  1'Abbe  de  Saint-Pierre,  in  the  Contrat  Social,  and 
in  the  fragment  entitled  Que  1'etat  de  guerre  nait  de  1'etat  social. 

Montesquieu,  while  justifying  war  and  conquest,  argued  that 
the  relative  equality  of  nations  had  rendered  them  unprofitable. 
Necker  embodied  in  his  report  on  the  finances  of  France  an 
eloquent  argument  against  war,  largely  from  the  economic  stand- 
point. Our  own  Franklin  reproduced  the  same  ideas.  Jeremy 
Bentham  wrote  a  Plan  for  a  Universal  and  Perpetual  Peace, 
advocating  disarmament  and  a  court  of  arbitration  whose  moral 
influence  should  sway  nations.  His  chief  reliance  in  moderating 
the  belligerent  spirit  natural  to  man  was  the  freedom  of  the  press. 

Mirabeau,  on  the  eve  of  the  French  Revolution,  saw  near  at 
hand  the  era  of  universal  peace,  and  Condorcet  repeated  the 
same  prophecy,  with  even  more  assurance,  after  the  war  had 
begun.  Kant,  approaching  the  subject  from  the  side  of  character, 
maintained,  on  the  contrary,  that  war  developed  the  qualities 
which  made  for  culture,  while  prolonged  peace  enervated  and 
debased  men.1  This  argument  has  been  frequently  repeated  and 
amplified  by  men  who  have  had  little  in  common,  except  that 
they  approached  the  question  from  the  ethical  or  social  rather 
than  the  economic  side.2  But  five  years  later,  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  war  (1795),  Kant  wrote  another  and  more  famous  work,  — 

1  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft,  1790. 

2  So  W.  von  Humboldt,  Hegel,  Maistre,  Cousin,  De  Quincey,  Lasson,Proudhon, 
Ruskin,  Von  Treitschke,  Funck-Brentano,  Strauss,  Jahns,  Bradley,  Von  Ammon, 
Mahan. 


1 64  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Zum  evvigen  Frieden, — in  which  he  cast  about  for  means  of  arrest- 
ing war,  and  found  it  in  that  which  he  had  formerly  despised, 
namely,  commerce.  In  the  state  of  nature  war  was  the  normal 
condition ;  but  organized  society,  he  held,  tends  to  peace.  The 
mechanical  course  of  nature,  he  affirms,  "visibly  exhibits  a  design 
to  bring  forth  concord  out  of  the  discord  of  men,  even  against  their 
will.  This  is  effected  by  the  commercial  spirit,  which  cannot  exist 
along  with  war,  and  which  sooner  or  later  controls  every  people." 
Through  this  work  Kant  became  the  father  of  a  spiritual  progeny 
of  quite  another  character,  including  most  of  the  peace  propagan- 
dists during  the  last  century. 

The  spread  of  this  peace  theory  has  been  powerfully  aided  by 
the  prevalent  philosophical  doctrines.  The  adhesion  of  the  econo- 
mists, in  particular,  was  secured  on  this  ground.  Theology  had 
given  way  to  metaphysics.  The  Deity  reigned,  but  he  did  not 
rule.  Nature,  with  a  capital  N,  was  now  the  active  ruler  of  the 
universe.  Nature  was  good  ;  to  doubt  it  was  to  doubt  the  good- 
ness of  God.  Man,  on  the  contrary,  was  bad,  having  been  cor- 
rupted by  society.  To  the  Physiocrats,  as  to  Rousseau,  everything 
was  perfect  as  it  came  from  the  hand  of  Nature  ;  man  alone  was 
the  inventor  of  evil.  There  was  a  preordained  natural  harmony 
in  the  universe, — a  harmony  that  man  could  ruin  by  his  meddling, 
but  was  powerless  to  alter  or  improve  upon.1  War,  being  an 
effort  of  man  to  control  the  natural  course  of  events,  was  a  dis- 
turbance of  this  natural  harmony  ;  wherefore  the  conclusion  was 
clear,  —  laissez  faire,  laissez  aller.  This  was  the  faith  which 
passed  with  that  famous  phrase  into  classical  economy.  The 
conclusions  implied  in  the  theory  of  Adam  Smith  were  drawn 
with  logical  rigor  by  his  successors  ; 2  such  as  Bastiat  in  his  Har- 
monies Economiques,  the  Philosophical  Radicals,  the  Manchester 
School  of  Cobden,  Bright,  and  their  latter-day  followers,  whom 
Cossa  calls  the  "  Optimists."  3 

1  Ritchie,  Darwinism  and  Politics,  p.  6 ;  Natural  Rights,  p.  45. 

2  Clarke, "  Defects  of  the  Old  Radicalism,"  Political  Science  Quarterly, Vol.  XIV, 
pp.  69,  84,  85.     Rogers,  Cobden  and  Modern  Political  Opinion,  1873.    Ritchie, 
Darwinism  and  Politics,  pp.  8,  19. 

8  For  example,  Laveleye,  Molinari,  Rogers,  Sumner,  Goldwin  Smith,  Godkin, 
Leroy-Beaulieu,  Novicow,  Ferri,  Jean  de  Bloch. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  165 

But  in  a  progressive  condition  of  society  all  philosophical  doc- 
trines are  in  a  state  of  unstable  equilibrium ;  and  it  was  not  long 
before  this  natural-harmony  theory  of  the  universe  began  to 
totter.  In  the  first  place,  experience  soon  proved  that  the  sup- 
posed identity  between  the  interest  of  the  individual  and  the 
interest  of  society  at  large  is  not  nearly  so  complete  as  had  been 
assumed.  It  was  this  discovery  that  led  John  Stuart  Mill  to 
depart  farther  and  farther  from  the  orthodox  economic  creed. 
Then  the  demonstrated  fact  of  evolution  tended  to  end  the  old 
dualism  of  man  and  nature  by  absorbing  man  in  nature.  It  no 
longer  sufficed  to  explain  war  as  a  human  interference  with  the 
harmony  of  nature ;  and  this  not  alone  because  the  analogy  of 
warfare  with  the  struggle  for  existence  in  other  species  was  too 
obvious  to  be  mistaken,  but  because,  if  man  is  a  part  of  nature 
and  subject  to  natural  laws,  it  is  a  logical  absurdity  to  speak  of 
him  as  disturbing  the  harmony  of  nature.  It  therefore  became 
necessary  to  regard  war  as  a  natural  process,  instead  of  a  human 
interference  with  the  beneficent  designs  of  nature.  In  order  to 
do  this,  and  at  the  same  time  maintain  the  traditional  view  that 
war  has  no  place  in  the  world,  as  now  constituted,  recourse  was 
had  to  the  theory  that  competition  in  war,  as  a  form  of  the  strug- 
gle for  existence,  is  destined  to  be  succeeded  by  competition  in 
industry.  This  is  the  point  made  by  Mr.  Spencer  and  Mr.  Kidd 
in  their  distinction  between  the  military  and  industrial  types  of 
society.  But  events  have  most  perversely  refused,  despite  all  the 
exhortations  and  lamentations  and  Jeremiads  of  Mr.  Spencer  and 
his  followers,  to  move  in  the  course  marked  out  for  them.  The 
individual  has  become  progressively  less  prominent  in  the  realm 
of  production  and  more  prominent  in  that  of  consumption ;  while 
state  activity,  in  place  of  decreasing,  as  required  by  Mr.  Spencer's 
formula,  has  gone  on  increasing.  The  era  of  stateless  competi- 
tion of  all  individuals  in  one  world  economy,  which  Cobden 
believed  at  hand,  seems  farther  from  realization  than  ever.  Even 
the  biological  analogy  which  Mr.  Spencer  so  extensively  exploited 
has  turned  against  him,  tending  rather  to  show  that  increasing 
centralization,  in  place  of  decentralization,  characterizes  higher 
organisms,  and  consequently  that  the  type  of  society  which  he 


1 66  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

regards  as  the  higher  is  in  reality  the  lower.  Finally,  in  addition 
to  the  silent  crumbling  away  of  the  philosophical  foundations  of 
the  cosmopolitan  theory,  and  its  breakdown  on  a  matter  of  such 
capital  importance  as  the  relation  of  the  state  to  industry,  has  come 
its  total  discredit  through  the  ascertained  falsity  of  its  economic 
assumptions.  It  was  assumed  (i)  that  England  was  destined  to 
be  the  workshop  of  the  world  ;  (2)  that  free  trade  was  to  solve 
the  economic  (or  social)  problem  ;  (3)  that  the  world  was  soon  to 
adopt  the  unrestricted  exchange  of  products  ;  (4)  that  the  era  of 
perpetual  peace  was  close  at  hand, — all  of  which,  being  necessary 
inferences  from  the  accepted  doctrine  of  economic  harmonies,  as 
formulated  by  Bastiat,  were  formerly  thought  above  discussion, 
but  now  are  held  beneath  it.1 

VII 

Once  more,  therefore,  the  relation  of  industry  and  war  has 
become  an  open  question,  nor  is  a  final  answer  probable  in  a 
world  where  irdwra  pel.  But  it  can  scarcely  fail  to  throw  some 
light  on  the  matter,  if  we  observe  wherein  each  theory  has  been 
found  wanting. 

The  fundamental  error  in  the  mercantile  theory  was  the 
belief  so  tersely  expressed  by  Montaigne :  //  ne  se  faict  aucun 
proufit  qu'au  dommage  d'aultruy?  From  this  was  derived  the 
maxim  attributed  to  Machiavelli,  and  consistently  acted  upon  for 
centuries  by  all  governments,  as  it  still  is  by  horse  traders,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  David  Harum, —  quod  tibi  fiere  non  vis,  id  alteri  tu 
primus  feceris.  The  existence  of  any  community  of  economic 
interest  between  nations  was  not  merely  denied  ;  it  was  not  even 
suspected.  That  the  policy  dictated  by  such  a  theory  was  grasping 
and  merciless  goes  without  saying.  That  incalculable  injury  was 
inflicted  upon  the  weaker  party  to  every  transaction  was  a  result 
unavoidable  under  the  theory.  But  that  the  stronger  party  suf- 
fered eventually  even  more  than  the  weaker  was  the  greatest 
of  all  possible  surprises  and  disappointments  ;  for  herein  were 
revealed  the  fatal  error  of  the  theory  and  the  doom  of  the  whole 

1  Clarke,  op.  «/.,  Vol.  XIV,  pp.  84,  85.  *  Essais,  I,  21. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  167 

system  of  statecraft  based  thereon.  While  all' the  nations  pur- 
sued this  policy  for  a  season,  it  was  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  and 
to  a  lesser  degree  in  France,  that  it  was  followed  out  to  the  bitter 
end.  The  entire  fabric  of  their  colonial  empires  was  reared  on 
this  foundation,  because,  being  first  on  the  scene,  they  naturally 
occupied  the  regions  where  returns  could  be  most  quickly  obtained, 
and  also  because  in  them  the  Roman  instinct  of  conquest  and 
exploitation  was  strongest.  The  traditions  of  Sulla  and  of  Verres 
awoke  to  life  in  their  conquistadors  and  viceroys ;  by  no  other 
nation  since  the  Romans  has  war  been  so  openly  and  exclusively 
conceived  as  a  business  undertaking.  The  Spanish  conquests 
were  conterminous  with  the  regions  occupied  by  agricultural 
tribes,  not  alone  because  of  the  difficulty  of  subduing  the  nomads 
of  the  mountains,  jungles,  or  deserts,  but  also  and  chiefly  because, 
even  if  subdued,  such  peoples  could  be  made  neither  to  work  nor 
to  pay  taxes.  In  the  conquered  districts  the  Spaniards  imposed 
themselves  as  a  ruling  class.  They  exploited  the  natives  through 
the  system  of  repartimientos ;  the  king  and  his  favorites  exploited 
them  through  exorbitant  taxes,  enormous  salaries,  universal  bribery, 
and  blackmail.  Exclusion,  prohibition,  monopoly,  were  the  very 
lifeblood  of  the  system ;  small  wonder  that  the  Spanish  ambas- 
sador replied  to  Cromwell,  seeking  freedom  of  religion  and  of 
trade,  that  "  the  Inquisition  and  the  monopoly  of  trade  were  his 
master's  two  eyes."  They  who  will  not  learn  must  perish  and 
make  room  for  others  wiser  and  stronger  than  they,  —  such  is 
the  law  of  life.  The  white  colonists,  broken  under  a  tyranny 
even  more  galling  than  they  inflicted  on  the  natives,  declined  in 
numbers,  mingling  their  blood  with  the  colored  population,  and 
lost  the  abounding  energy  and  spirit  of  the  conquistadors.  There 
was  no  incentive  to  labor  merely  for  the  enrichment  of  greedy 
officials.  Thus  the  flag  of  Portugal  or  Spain  speedily  came  to 
signify  a  land  of  poverty,  dirt,  and  manana. 

Meantime  how  fared  it  with  the  home  countries  ?  Receiving 
the  enormous  riches  of  the  New  World  and  the  Old,  envied  by  all 
nations  as  the  favorites  of  fortune,  they  grew  steadily  poorer  and 
sank  into  hopeless  decay  at  the  very  time  that  Holland  and  Eng- 
land were  growing  to  astonishing  dimensions  in  riches  and  power. 


168  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Strange  enigma  ?  Incomprehensible  working  of  Providence  ? 
Not  at  all.  The  Spaniard  reaped  many  fields  which  he  had  never 
sown  ;  but  this  crop  was  of  his  own  planting.  The  colonies  were 
impoverished  by  taxes  and  extortions ;  the  home  country  was 
impoverished  by  the  resulting  decay  of  industry.  The  wealth  of 
Mexico,  Peru,  and  the  Indies  flowed  away  to  other  lands  where 
wealth  was  produced  for  exchange,  leaving  Spain  poorer  by  many 
lives  and  many  millions,  and  above  all  poorer  in  the  senseless 
pride  and  contempt  of  labor  begotten  of  her  apparent  wealth. 
The  empire  of  Spain  has  perished,  the  empires  of  Turkey, 
Portugal,  and  France  are  perishing,  of  the  same  disease  to  which 
the  Roman  Empire  succumbed  :  consumption  exceeds  production. 
Were  Lord  Bacon  now  on  earth,  he  would  doubtless  revise  his 
essay  "  Of  Greatness  of  Kingdoms  and  Estates,"  wherein  he  cites 
the  Romans,  Turks,  and  Spaniards  as  examples  of  greatness  due 
to  the  pursuit  of  arms.  They  are  examples,  indeed,  which  it 
behooves  men  deeply  to  consider, — above  all,  in  France,  Germany, 
and  the  United  States, — examples  which  show  most  impressively 
how  they  thrive  who  would  live  by  the  labor  of  others,  but  not 
examples  apt  to  provoke  imitation. 

The  doctrine  of  mutual  gain  in  commerce  was  promulgated  by 
Adam  Smith  in  the  same  year  which  saw  the  American  Declara- 
tion of  Independence.  Within  fifteen  years  after  the  Peace  of 
Paris  the  volume  of  British  trade  with  the  revolted  colonies  had 
doubled.1  So  signal  a  vindication  of  the  new  theory  destroyed 
at  one  blow  the  whole  fabric  of  the  time-honored  mercantile 
system.  The  movement  thus  inaugurated  continued  to  gain  mo- 
mentum'for  a  century.  Unquestionably  it  constituted  "one  of 
the  greatest  advances  made  by  mankind,"  and  tended  strongly  to 
humanize  the  relations  of  the  nations  to  each  other.  But  it  is 
equally  unquestionable  that  this  theory  overshot  the  mark  both 
in  what  it  assumed  and  in  what  it  denied.  This  was  evident 
to  clear-sighted  men  even  before  the  culmination,  from  1860 
to  1875,  of  the  free-trade  and  perpetual-peace  movement;  the 
last  two  decades  have  made  its  errors  so  evident  that  few  not 

1  Davidson,  "  England  and  her  Colonies,"  Political  Science  Quarterly,  Vol.  XIV, 
pp.  39,  40. 


WAR  AND  ECONOMICS  169 

hopelessly  wedded  to  their  illusions  hold  the  theory  in  its  original 
unqualified  form.  Even  the  Cobden  Club  at  its  last  meeting 
felt  constrained,  in  view  of  the  imperiled  condition  of  British 
trade,  formally  to  recant  its  peace-at-any-price  creed  and  to  advo- 
cate a  "  vigorous  "  policy  in  China  and  elsewhere.  Cobden  once 
declared  that  "no  military  success  is  worth  so  much  as  the 
conquest  of  a  new  commercial  route."  It  is  precisely  for  the  con- 
quest of  commercial  routes  that  wars  are  now  chiefly  waged. 

The  fundamental  error  in  the  peace  and  free-trade  theory  lay 
in  generalizing  the  particular,  —  in  assuming,  without  further 
investigation,  that  what  was  true  of  England  at  a  particular  time 
would  be  true  of  England  and  all  other  countries  at  all  times. 
Having  acquired,  by  tariffs  and  by  war,  a  monopoly  of  the  world's 
markets,  the  new  inventions  which  were  stimulated  by  this 
enormous  demand  soon  placed  England  beyond  the  danger  of 
competition.  The  American  Revolution,  which  destroyed  her 
monopoly  of  markets,  left  her  still  a  practical  monopoly  of  the 
new  industrial  processes,  and  so  English  trade  continued  to 
expand.  This  event,  which  astounded  the  world,  and  England 
most  of  all,  clearly  showed  that  here  the  need  for  state  aid  and 
protection  no  longer  existed ;  the  free  traders  immediately  as- 
sumed that  it  never  existed.  Free  trade  was  now  obviously  to 
England's  advantage  ;  the  free  traders  assumed  that  it  was  to 
everybody's  advantage.  England  had  become  the  workshop  of 
the  world  ;  the  free  traders  assumed  that  she  would  always  remain 
the  workshop  of  the  world.  Yet  to-day  England  remains  the 
only  free-trade  nation,  —  remains  so  because  of  her  urgent  need 
of  cheap  food  and  raw  materials  ;  and  so  dangerous  has  become 
the  economic  rivalry  of  other  nations  that  the  general  adoption 
of  free  trade,  whereby  they  too  would  secure  cheaper  food  and 
raw  materials,  might  well  work  her  utter  ruin.  The  fact  is,  as 
List  clearly  perceived,  and  even  orthodox  economists1  now  admit, 
that  it  may  be  to  the  advantage  of  a  nation,  by  means  of  tariffs, 
( i )  to  resist  an  industrial  change  naturally  impending  or,  more 
frequently,  (2)  to  hasten  such  a  change,  because  the  persons 
affected  could  find  no  other  occupation  equally  profitable,  and 

1  Sidgwick,  Elements  of  Politics,  pp.  289,  290. 


1 70  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  sum  total  of  national  production  is  thereby  rendered  greater 
than  under  the  regime  of  free  trade.  The  other  nations,  especially 
Germany  and  the  United  States,  acting  on  this  principle,  have 
built  up  industries  of  such  magnitude  that  they  are  now  able  to 
wrest  from  the  English  the  control  of  neutral  markets.  This  is 
the  meaning  of  the  fabulous  growth  of  German  and  American 
export  trade,  and  the  relative  and  even  absolute  decline  of  English 
trade,  during  the  last  decade.  The  dogma  of  the  natural  and 
necessary  harmony  of  the  interests  of  all  nations  is  just  as  false 
as  that  of  their  natural  and  necessary  antagonism.  This  dogma 
is  true  only  so  long  as  each  nation  has  a  natural  monopoly  in 
some  one  line  of  industry,  —  as  the  free  traders  erroneously 
assumed  that  England  had  in  manufacturing.  While  competition 
is  absent,  commerce  is,  indeed,  a  bond  of  peace  and  good  will 
between  those  who  buy  and  those  who  sell  in  return.  But  the 
moment  that  two  nations  embark  extensively  in  the  same  line  of 
industry,  that  moment  commerce  becomes  a  sword,  dividing  and 
setting  at  enmity  those  who  are  rivals  for  the  same  markets.1 
For  of  them  it  is  true,  as  Montaigne  declared,  that  no  profit  can 
be  made  except  to  the  damage  of  another.  The  increase  of  one 
is  the  decrease  of  the  other ;  the  prosperity  of  one  is  the  other's 
destruction.  Such  nations  stand  to  each  other  as  two  Indian 
tribes  when  there  is  but  game  enough  for  one. 

VIII 

What,  then,  is  the  future  of  war  ? 

The  fundamental  fact  in  history  is  the  law  of  decreasing 
returns.  It  is  the  source  of  the  origin  and  development  of  civi- 
lization ;  for  without  the  pressure  of  population  on  subsistence 
man  would  never  have  risen  above  the  lowest  savagery.  It  is 
equally  and  for  the  same  reason  the  source  of  poverty  and  war. 
To  equalize  population  and  subsistence  there  are  four  possible 

1  Cf.  The  Federalist,  No.  VI.  Bernard,  "  Growth  of  Laws  and  Usage  of  War  " 
(Oxford  Essays,  1856,  p.  121).  Blanqui,  pp.  428-433.  Gibbins,  Industry  in  England, 
pp.  69,  470-474.  Shaler,  "  Natural  History  of  Warfare,"  North  American  Review, 
Vol.  CLXII,  pp.  337,  338.  Dicey,  "War  and  Progress,"  Eclectic  Magazine,  1867. 
Guyot,  La  Morale,  p.  186. 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS 


171 


means,  two  operating  to  check  population,  two  to  increase  the 
available  food  supply.  These  are:  (i)  natural  limitation  of  the 
population,  as  in  India,  by  disease  and  famine,  or  artificial  limi- 
tation, as  in  France ;  (2)  emigration ;  (3)  conquest ;  (4)  com- 
merce. By  conquest  nations  have  obtained  from  other  lands 
wealth  not  produced  at  home,  without  rendering  an  equivalent ; 
the  fate  of  Rome  and  Spain  demonstrates  whither  this  leads.  By 
commerce  nations  set  the  laws  of  constant  and  increasing  against 
that  of  decreasing  returns,  exchanging  manufactured  articles  for 
food  to  feed  their  surplus  millions.  It  is  in  this  way  that  Eng- 
land maintains,  in  greater  comfort  than  exists  elsewhere  in 
Europe,  a  population  not  half  of  whom  could  be  fed  from  her 
own  soil.  The  superiority  of  commerce  to  conquest  as  an  eco- 
nomic measure  arises  from  the  fact  that  it  stimulates,  whereas 
conquest  for  purposes  of  exploitation  checks,  production  on  both 
sides. 

Commerce  thus  is  capable,  as  Aristotle  long  ago  declared,  of 
indefinite  expansion.  But,  nevertheless,  it  does  not  altogether 
escape  the  law  of  diminishing  returns.  In  order  that  people  may 
buy,  they  must  have  something  to  sell ;  and  to  this  end  they 
must  produce  more  of  some  article  than  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  their  own  consumption.  Not  only  so,  but  the  marginal  cost 
of  producing  this  quantity  must  be  less  than  the  marginal  utility 
of  the  imported  article.  The  labor  pain  of  production  must  be 
small  compared  to  the  pleasure  of  consumption,  or  people  will 
not  continue  to  produce.  Obviously  this  is  a  standard  which 
varies  from  place  to  place.  Throughout  the  tropical  and  sub- 
tropical regions,  where  the  indisposition  to  labor  is  great  and  the 
pain  of  labor  consequently  high,  it  is  this  subjective  limit  which 
causes  vast  resources  to  lie  undeveloped,  checks  production,  keeps 
down  commerce,  and  drives  plantation  owners  either  to  adopt 
some  form  of  forced  labor  —  as  witness  Java  —  or  to  abandon 
in  despair  the  attempt  to  exploit  the  natural  resources  of  the 
country.  To  measure  the  probable  commerce  of  such  regions 
by  their  natural  resources  alone,  without  taking  account  of  this 
subjective  factor,  —  the  character  of  the  people,  —  is  only  to 
practice  self-deception  and  court  bitter  disappointment. 


172  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

On  the  other  hand,  in  regions  where  the  pain  of  labor  is  not 
held  so  great,  production  is  pursued  on  a  more  intensive  plan. 
This  explains  the  anomalous  fact  that  the  countries  having  the 
largest  production  are  often  not  those  with  the  greatest  natural 
wealth.  But,  inasmuch  as  every  increase  of  agricultural  produc- 
tion means  a  larger  proportional  increase  of  labor,  ccteris  paribus, 
there  is  always  a  point  at  which  it  ceases  to  pay.  This,  then,  is 
the  fixed  or  objective  limit  to  production  and  consequently  to 
commerce.  As  population  increases,  it  therefore  becomes  pro- 
gressively more  difficult  and  finally  impossible  to  create  a  surplus 
of  agricultural  products  for  purposes  of  exchange.  When  this 
point  is  reached  the  country  ceases  to  offer  a  market  for  manu- 
factured goods,  for  the  reason  that  there  is  nothing  wherewith  to 
pay  for  them ;  and  the  people  are  confronted  with  the  old  dilemma, 
—  starvation,  emigration,  war,  or  manufacturing.  In  this  way  the 
number  of  manufacturing  nations  is  constantly  increasing  and 
that  of  agricultural  nations  decreasing,  the  hunters  multiplying 
while  the  game  diminishes.  The  result  is  a  rivalry  for  markets,  — 
that  is,  for  the  means  to  employ  and  feed  the  people,  —  which 
grows  fiercer  day  by  day.  A  half  century  ago  this  contingency 
seemed  remote  enough;  England,  secure  in  her  industrial  and 
commercial  supremacy,  having  already  everything  for  which  men 
fight,  was  passionately  enamored  of  peace.  To-day  her  monopoly 
is  broken  and  her  supremacy  is  passing ;  competitors  are  taking 
the  work  from  her  factories  and  the  bread  from  her  people  ;  the 
habitable  earth  is  parceled  out  and  all  nations  are  arming  by  land 
and  sea.  For,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  nations  are  still 
sadly  lacking  in  that  sweet  reasonableness  which  should  move 
them  to  yield,  without  a  protest,  to  their  betters. 

Does  all  this  portend  the  end  of  war  ?  It  is  true  that  tariffs 
are  used  to-day  with  more  effect  than  were  armies  in  former 
times.  Weaker  competitors  are  driven  to  the  wall  and  forced 
out  of  the  race.  War  of  the  most  deadly  character  —  war  which 
ruins  states  and  crushes  nations  —  is  waged  without  firing  a  shot. 
Added  to  this  is  the  cost  of  armies  and  navies,  which  only  the 
strongest  can  bear.  Shall  we  therefore  conclude,  with  M.  Jean 
de  Bloch,  that  war  has  become  so  expensive  and  deadly  as  to  be 


WAR  AND   ECONOMICS  173 

impossible  ?  His  theory  is  plausible  but  not  convincing.  Recent 
experience  confirms  the  maxim  that  the  more  deadly  the  weapons, 
the  less  the  slaughter ;  while  the  cost  of  war  is  one  of  the  crucial 
tests  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  one  of  the  means  whereby  the 
living  are  parted  from  the  dying  nations.  It  is  true  that  the 
object  and  the  character  of  war  have  changed.  Conquests  are 
no  longer  made  by  civilized  nations  for  purposes  of  tribute,  nor 
by  the  most  progressive  among  them  for  the  purpose  of  exploita- 
tion through  unequal  commercial  laws.  If  any  lapse  from  the 
path  of  rectitude  in  this  respect,  they  have  their  reward  ;  no 
conquest  can  be  permanently  profitable  to  one  side  which  is  not 
so  to  both.  Moreover,  war  is  to-day,  more  than  ever  before,  a 
conflict  not  of  arms  but  of  civilizations;  the  more  complicated 
its  machinery,  the  more  it  depends  upon  the  intelligence  and 
character  of  the  man  behind  the  gun,  and  the  greater  is  the  drain 
upon  the  resources  of  the  nation.  To  the  ancient  motto,  Si  vis 
pacem,  para  belhim,  another  must  therefore  be  added,  Si  vis 
be  I  htm,  para  pacent.  That  nation  is  best  prepared  for  war  which 
best  develops  and  conserves  its  energies.  But  all  these  changes, 
far-reaching  though  they  are,  do  not,  as  is  fondly  imagined,  tend 
to  the  abolition  of  war.  The  cause  of  war  is  as  permanent  as 
hunger  itself ;  since  both  spring  from  the  same  source,  the  law 
of  decreasing  returns.  So  long  as  that  persists,  war  must  remain, 
in  the  last  analysis,  a  national  business  undertaking,  designed  to 
procure  or  preserve  foreign  markets,  that  is,  the  means  of  con- 
tinued growth  and  prosperity.  Chacun  doit  grandir  ou  mourir.1 

1  Vacher  de  Lapouge,  Les  Selections  Sociales,  chap.  viii. 

Additional  References : 

Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  Part  V,  chaps,  xvii,  xviii,  xix. 
Herbert  Spencer,  Progress,  Its  Law  and  Cause,  in  Essays  :  Scientific,  Politi- 
cal, and  Speculative,  Vol.  I.  J.  S.  Mackenzie,  Introduction  to  Social 
Philosophy,  chaps,  v  and  vi, 


PART  III  — THE   FACTORS    OF    SOCIAL 
PROGRESS 

A.  THE  PHYSICAL  AND  BIOLOGICAL  FACTORS 


X 

INFLUENCE    EXERCISED    BY    PHYSICAL    LAWS 

OVER  THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  SOCIETY  AND 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  INDIVIDUALS1 

If  we  inquire  what  those  physical  agents  are  by  which  the 
human  race  is  most  powerfully  influenced,  we  shall  find  that  they 
may  be  classed  under  four  heads,  namely,  climate,  food,  soil, 
and  the  general  aspect  of  nature;  by  which  last  I  mean  those 
appearances  which,  though  presented  chiefly  to  the  sight,  have, 
through  the  medium  of  that  or  other  senses,  directed  the  associ- 
ation of  ideas,  and  hence  in  different  countries  have  given  rise  to 
different  habits  of  national  thought.  To  one  of  these  four  classes 
may  be  referred  all  the  external  phenomena  by  which  man  has 
been  permanently  affected.  The  last  of  these  classes,  or  what  I 
call  the  general  aspect  of  nature,  produces  its  principal  results 
by  exciting  the  imagination,  and  by  suggesting  those  innumerable 
superstitions  which  are  the  great  obstacles  to  advancing  knowl- 
edge. And  as,  in  the  infancy  of  a  people,  the  power  of  such 
superstitions  is  supreme,  it  has  happened  that  the  various  aspects 
of  nature  have  caused  corresponding  varieties  in  the  popular 
character,  and  have  imparted  to  the  national  religion  peculiarities 
which,  under  certain  circumstances,  it  is  impossible  to  efface. 
The  other  three  agents,  namely,  climate,  food,  and  soil,  have,  so 
far  as  we  are  aware,  had  no  direct  influence  of  this  sort ;  but  they 

1  From  Buckle's  History  of  Civilization  in  England,  chap,  ii,  London,  1857-1861. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      175 

have,  as  I  am  about  to  prove,  originated  the  most  important  con- 
sequences in  regard  to  the  general  organization  of  society,  and 
from  them  there  have  followed  many  of  those  large  and  conspicu- 
ous differences  between  nations  which  are  often  ascribed  to  some 
fundamental  difference  in  the  various  races  into  which  mankind 
is  divided.  But  while  such  original  distinctions  of  race  are 
altogether  hypothetical,1  the  discrepancies  which  are  caused  by 
difference  of  climate,  food,  and  soil  are  capable  of  a  satisfactory 
explanation,  and,  when  understood,  will  be  found  to  clear  up 
many  of  the  difficulties  which  still  obscure  the  study  of  history. 
I  purpose,  therefore,  in  the  first  place,  to  examine  the  laws  of 
these  three  vast  agents  in  so  far  as  they  are  connected  with  man 
in  his  social  condition ;  and  having  traced  the  working  of  those 
laws  with  as  much  precision  as  the  present  state  of  physical 
knowledge  will  allow,  I  shall  then  examine  the  remaining  agent, 
namely,  the  general  aspect  of  nature,  and  shall  endeavor  to 
point  out  the  most  important  divergences  to  which  its  variations 
have,  in  different  countries,  naturally  given  rise. 

Beginning,  then,  with  climate,  food,  and  soil,  it  is  evident  that 
these  three  physical  powers  are  in  no  small  degree  dependent  on 
each  other :  that  is  to  say,  there  is  a  very  close  connection 
between  the  climate  of  a  country  and  the  food  which  will  ordi- 
narily be  grown  in  that  country ;  while  at  the  same  time  the  food 
is  itself  influenced  by  the  soil  which  produces  it,  as  also  by  the 
elevation  or  depression  of  the  land,  by  the  state  of  the  atmos- 
phere, and,  in  a  word,  by  all  those  conditions  to  the  assemblage 

1  I  cordially  subscribe  to  the  remark  of  one  of  the  greatest  thinkers  of  our 
time,  who  says  of  the  supposed  differences  of  race,  "  Of  all  vulgar  modes  of  escap- 
ing from  the  consideration  of  the  effect  of  social  and  moral  influences  on  the 
human  mind,  the  most  vulgar  is  that  of  attributing  the  diversities  of  conduct  and 
character  to  inherent  and  natural  differences "  (Mill's  Principles  of  Political 
Economy,  Vol.  I,  p.  390).  Ordinary  writers  are  constantly  falling  into  the  error  of 
assuming  the  existence  of  this  difference,  which  may  or  may  not  exist,  but  which 
most  assuredly  has  never  been  proved.  Some  singular  instances  of  this  will  be 
found  in  Alison's  History  of  Europe,  Vol.  II,  p.  336  ;  Vol.  VI,  p.  136 ;  Vol.  VIII, 
pp.  525,  526;  Vol.  XIII,  p.  347  ;  where  the  historian  thinks  that  by  a  few  strokes 
of  his  pen  he  can  settle  a  question  of  the  greatest  difficulty,  connected  with  some 
of  the  most  intricate  problems  in  physiology.  On  the  supposed  relation  between 
race  and  temperament,  see  Comte,  Philosophic  Positive,  VoL  III,  p.  355. 


1 76  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

qf  which  the  name  of  physical  geography  is,  in  its  largest  sense, 
commonly  given.1 

The  union  between  these  physical  agents  being  thus  intimate, 
it  seems  advisable  to  consider  them  not  under  their  own  separate 
heads  but  rather  under  the  separate  heads  of  the  effects  pro- 
duced by  their  united  action.  In  this  way  we  shall  rise  at  once 
to  a  more  comprehensive  view  of  the  whole  question ;  we  shall 
avoid  the  confusion  that  would  be  caused  by  artificially  sepa- 
rating phenomena  which  are  in  themselves  inseparable ;  and  we 
shall  be  able  to  see  more  clearly  the  extent  of  that  remarkable 
influence  which,  in  an  early  stage  of  society,  the  powers  of  nature 
exercise  over  the  fortunes  of  man. 

Of  all  the  results  which  are  produced  among  a  people  by  their 
climate,  food,  and  soil,  the  accumulation  of  wealth  is  the  earliest, 
and  in  many  respects  the  most  important.  For  although  the 
progress  of  knowledge  eventually  accelerates  the  increase  of 
wealth,  it  is  nevertheless  certain  that,  in  the  first  formation  of 
society,  the  wealth  must  accumulate  before  the  knowledge  can 
begin.  As  long  as  every  man  is  engaged  in  collecting  the  mate- 
rials necessary  for  his  own  subsistence  there  will  be  neither 
leisure  nor  taste  for  higher  pursuits ;  no  science  can  possibly  be 
created,  and  the  utmost  that  can  be  effected  will  be  an  attempt 
to  economize  labor  by  the  contrivance  of  such  rude  and  imper- 
fect instruments  as  even  the  most  barbarous  people  are  able 
to  invent. 

In  a  state  of  society  like  this  the  accumulation  of  wealth  is  the 
first  great  step  that  can  be  taken,  because  without  wealth  there 
can  be  no  leisure,  and  without  leisure  there  can  be  no  knowledge. 
If  what  a  people  consume  is  always  exactly  equal  to  what  they 
possess,  there  will  be  no  residue,  and  therefore,  no  capital  being 
accumulated,  there  will  be  no  means  by  which  the  unemployed 

1  As  to  the  proper  limits  of  physical  geography,  see  Prichard  on  Ethnology,  in 
Report  of  the  British  Association  for  1847,  P-  235-  The  word  "  climate  "  I  always 
use  in  the  narrow  and  popular  sense.  Dr.  Forry  and  many  previous  writers  make 
it  nearly  coincide  with  "  physical  geography  " :  "  Climate  constitutes  the  aggregate 
of  all  the  external  physical  circumstances  appertaining  to  each  locality  in  its  rela- 
tion to  organic  nature  "  (Forry,  Climate  of  the  United  States  and  its  Endemic 
Influences,  p.  127,  New  York,  1842). 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY   PHYSICAL  LAWS       177 

classes  may  be  maintained.1  But  if  the  produce  is  greater  than 
the  consumption,  an  overplus  arises,  which,  according  to  well- 
known  principles,  increases  itself,  and  eventually  becomes  a  fund 
out  of  which,  immediately  or  remotely,  every  one  is  supported 
who  does  not  create  the  wealth  upon  which  he  lives.  And  now 
it  is  that  the  existence  of  an  intellectual  class  first  becomes 
possible^  because  for  the  first  time  there  exists  a  previous  accu- 
mulation, by  means  of  which  men  can  use  what  they  did  not 
produce,  and  are  thus  enabled  to  devote  themselves  to  subjects 
for  which  at  an  earlier  period  the  pressure  of  their  daily  wants 
would  have  left  them  no  time. 

Thus  it  is  that  of  all  the  great  _soc_ial__improveingnts  the  accu- 
mulation of  wealth  must  be  the  first,  because  without  it  there 
can  be  neither  taste  nor  leisure  for  that  acquisition  of  knowledge 
on  which,  as  I  shall  hereafter  prove,  the  progress  of  civilization 
depends.  Now,  it  is  evident  that  among  an  entirely  ignorant 
people  the  rapidity  with  which  wealth  is  created  will  be  solely 
regulated  by  the  physical  peculiarities  of  their  country.  At  a 
later  period,  and  when  the  wealth  has  been  capitalized,  other 
causes  come  into  play;  but  until  this  occurs  the  progress  can 
only  depend  on  two  circumstances  :  first,  on  the  energy  and 
regularity  with  which  laborMs  conducted,  and,  secondly,  on  the 
returns  made  to  that  labor  by  the  bounty  of  nature.  And  these 
two  causes  are  themselves  the  result  of  physical  antecedents. 
The  returns  made  to  labor  are  governed  by  the  fertility  of  the 
soil,  which  is  itself  regulated  partly  by  the  admixture  of  its 
chemical  components,  partly  by  the  extent  to  which,  from  rivers 
or  from  other  natural  causes,  the  soil  is  irrigated,  and  partly  by 
the  heat  and  humidity  of  the  atmosphere.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  energy  and  regularity  with  which  labor  is  conducted  will  be 
entirely  dependent  on  the  influence  of  climate.  This  will  display 
itself  in  two  different  ways.  The  first,  which  is  a  very  obvious 
consideration,  is,  that  if  the  heat  is  intense,  men  will  be  indis- 
posed, and  in  some  degree  unfitted,  for  that  active  industry 

1  By  unemployed  classes,  I  mean  what  Adam  Smith  calls  the  unproductive 
classes  ;  and  though  both  expressions  are  strictly  speaking  inaccurate,  the  word 
"  unemployed  "  seems  to  convey  more  clearly  than  any  other  the  idea  in  the  text. 


178  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

which  in  a  milder  climate  they  might  willingly  have  exerted. 
The  other  consideration,  which  has  been  less  noticed,  but  is  equally 
important,  is,  that  climate  influences  labor  not  only  by  enervat-_ 
ing  the  laborer  or  by  invigorating  him,  but  also  by  the  effect 
it  produces  on  the  regularity  of  his  habits.1  Thus  we  find  that 
no  people  living  in  a  very  northern  latitude  have  ever  possessed 
that  steady  and  unflinching  industry  for  which  the  inhabitants  of 
temperate  regions  are  remarkable.  The  reason  of  this  becomes 
clear  when  we  remember  that  in  the  more  northern  countries 
the  severity  of  the  weather  and,  at  some  seasons,  the  deficiency 
of  light  render  it  impossible  for  the  people  to  continue  their 
usual  out-of-door  employments.  The  result  is  that  the  working 
classes,  being  compelled  to  cease  from  their  ordinary  pursuits, 
are  rendered  more  prone  to  desultory  habits ;  the  chain  of  their 
industry  is,  as  it  were,  broken,  and  they  lose  that  impetus  which 
long-continued  and  uninterrupted  practice  never  fails  to  give. 
Hence  there  arises  a  national  character  more  fitful  and  capricious 
than  that  possessed  by  a  people  whose  climate  permits  the  regu- 
lar exercise  of  their  ordinary  industry.  Indeed,  so  powerful  is 
this  principle  that  we  may  perceive  its  operation  even  under  the 
most  opposite  circumstances.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a 
greater  difference  in  government,  laws,  religion,  and  manners 
than  that 'which  distinguishes  Sweden  and  Norway,  on  the  one 
hand,  from  Spain  and  Portugal,  on  the  other.  But  these  four 
countries  have  one  great  point  in  common:  in  all  of  them  con- 
tinued agricultural  industry  is  impracticable.  In  the  two  southern 
countries  labor  is  interrupted  by  the  heat,  by  the  dryness  of 
the  weather,  and  by  the  consequent  state  of  the  soil.  In  the  two 
northern  countries  the  same  effect  is  produced  by  the  severity 
of  the  winter  and  the  shortness  of  the  days.  The  consequence 
is  that  these  four  nations,  though  so  different  in  other  respects, 
are  all  remarkable  for  a  certain  instability  and  fickleness  of 
character;  presenting  a  striking  contrast  to  the  more  regular 

1  This  has  been  entirely  neglected  by  the  three  most  philosophical  writers  on 
climate,  —  Montesquieu.  Hume,  and  M.  Charles  Comte  in  his  Traite  de  Legisla- 
tion. It  is  also  omitted  in  the  remarks  of  M.  Guizot  on  the  influence  of  climate, 
Civilisation  en  Europe,  p.  97. 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       179 

and  settled  habits  which  are  established  in  countries  whose 
climate  subjects  the  working  classes  to  fewer  interruptions,  and 
imposes  on  them  the  necessity  of  a  more  constant  and  unremit- 
ting employment.1 

These  are  the  great  physical  causes  by  which  the  creation  of 
wealth  is  governed.  There  are,  no  doubt,  other  circumstances 
which  operate  with  considerable  force,  and  which,  in  a  more 
advanced  state  of  society,  possess  an  equal,  and  sometimes  a 
superior,  influence.  But  this  is  at  a  later  period  ;  and  looking 
at  the  history  of  wealth  in  its  earliest  stage,  it  will  be  found 
to  depend  entirely  on  soil  and  climate :  the  soil  regulating  the 
returns  made  to  any  given  amount  of  labor ;  the  climate  regu-j 
lating  the  energy  and  constancy  of  the  labor  itself.  It  requires 
but  a  hasty  glance  at  past  events  to  prove  the  immense  power  of 
these  two  great  physical  conditions ;  for  there  is  no  instance  in 
history  of  any  country  being  civilized  by  its  own  efforts,  unless 
it  has  possessed  one  of  these  conditions  in  a  very  favorable  form. 
In  Asia  civilization  has  always  been  confined  to  that  vast  tract 
where  a  rich  and  alluvial  soil  has  secured  to  man  that  wealth 
without  some  share  of  which  no  intellectual  progress  can  begin. 
This  great  region  extends,  with  a  few  interruptions,  from  the 
east  of  southern  China  to  the  western  coasts  of  Asia  Minor,  of 
Phoenicia,  and  of  Palestine.  To  the  north  of  this  immense  belt 
there  is  a  long  line  of  barren  country  which  has  invariably  been 
peopled  by  rude  and  wandering  tribes,  who  are  kept  in  poverty 
by  the  ungenial  nature  of  the  soil,  and  who,  as  long  as  they 
remained  on  it,  have  never  emerged  from  their  uncivilized  state. 
How  entirely  this  depends  on  physical  causes  is  evident  from  the 
fact  that  these  same  Mongolian  and  Tartarian  hordes  have,  at 
different  periods,  founded  great  monarchies  in  China,  in  India, 
and  in  Persia,  and  have  on  all  such  occasions  attained  a  civilization 


1  See  the  admirable  remarks  in  Laing's  Denmark,  1852,  pp.  204,  366,  367; 
though  Norway  appears  to  be  a  better  illustration  than  Denmark.  In  Rey's  Science 
Sociale,  Vol.  I,  pp.  195,  196,  there  are  some  calculations  respecting  the  average 
loss  to  agricultural  industry  caused  by  changes  in  the  weather  ;  but  no  notice  is 
taken  of  the  connection  between  these  changes,  when  abrupt,  and  the  tone  of  the 
national  character. 


l8o  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

nowise  inferior  to  that  possessed  by  the  most  flourishing  of  the 
ancient  kingdoms.  For  in  the  fertile  plains  of  southern  Asia1 
nature  has  supplied  all  the  materials  of  wealth ;  and  there  it  was 
that  these  barbarous  tribes  acquired  for  the  first  time  some 
degree  of  refinement,  produced  a  national  literature,  and  organ- 
ized a  national  polity;  none  of  which  things  they,  in  their  native 
land,  had  been  able  to  effect.2  In  the  same  way,  the  Arabs,  in 
their  own  country,  have,  owing  to  the  extreme  aridity  of  their 
soil,3  always  been  a  rude  and  uncultivated  people ;  for  in  their 
case,  as  in  all  others,  great  ignorance  is  the  fruit  of  great  poverty. 
But  in  the  seventh  century  they  conquered  Persia ; 4  in  the 
eighth  century  they  conquered  the  best  part  of  Spain ; 5  in  the 
ninth  century  they  conquered  the  Punjaub,  and  eventually  nearly 
the  whole  of  India.6  Scarcely  were  they  established  in  their 
fresh  settlements  when  their  character  seemed  to  undergo  a 

1  This  expression  has  been  used  by  different  geographers  in  different  senses  ; 
but  I  take  it  in  its  common  acceptation,  without  reference  to  the  more  strictly 
physical  view  of  Ritter  and  his  followers  in  regard  to  central  Asia.    See  Prichard's 
Physical  History  of  Mankind,  1844,  Vol.  IV,  p.  278.    At  page  92,  Prichard  makes 
the  Himalaya  the  southern  boundary  of  central  Asia. 

2  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  Tartars  of  Tibet  received  even  their  alpha- 
bet from  India.    See  the  interesting  Essay  on  Tartarian  Coins  in  Journal  of  Asiatic 
Society,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  276,  277  ;  and  on  the  Scythian  Alphabet,  see  Vol.  XII,  p.  336. 

3  In  Somerville's  Physical  Geography,  Vol.  I,  p.  132,  it  is  said  that  in  Arabia 
there  are  "no  rivers";   but  Mr.  Wellsted  (Travels  in  Arabia,  Vol.  II,  p.  409) 
mentions  one  which  empties  itself  into  the  sea  five  miles  west  of  Aden.    On  the 
streams   in    Arabia,   see   Meiners,  Uber  die   Fruchtbarkeit  der   Lander,   Vol.  I, 
pp.  149,  150.    That  the  sole  deficiency  is  want  of  irrigation  appears  from  Burck- 
hardt,  who  says  (Travels  in  Arabia,  Vol.  I,  p.  240),  "In  Arabia,  wherever  the 
ground  can  be  irrigated  by  wells,  the  sands  may  be  soon  made  productive."    And 
for  a  striking  description  of  one  of  the  oases  of  Oman,  which  shows  what  Arabia 
might  have  been  with  a  good  river  system,  see  Journal  of  Geographical  Society, 
Vol.  VII,  pp.  106,  107. 

4  Mr.  Morier  (Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  VII,  p.  230)  says,  "  The 
conquest  of  Persia  by  the  Saracens,  A.D.  651."    However,  the  fate  of  Persia  was 
decided  by  the  battles  of  Kudseah  and  Nahavund,  which  were  fought  in  638 
and  641.    See  Malcolm's  History  of  Persia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  xvi,  139,  142. 

6  In  712.    Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Vol.  I,  p.  369. 

6  They  were  established  in  the  Punjaub  early  in  the  ninth  century,  but  did  not 
conquer  Guzerat  and  Malwa  until  five  hundred  years  later.  Compare  Wilson's 
note  in  the  Vishnu  Purana,  pp.  48  r,  482,  with  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  IX,  pp.  187, 
1 88,  203.  On  their  progress  in  the  more  southern  part  of  the  Peninsula,  see 
Journal  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  222,  223;  Vol.  IV,  pp.  28-30. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       181 

great  change.  They,  who  in  their  original  land  were  little  else 
than  roving  savages,  were  now  for  the  first  time  able  to  accumu- 
late wealth,  and,  therefore,  for  the  first  time  did  they  make  some 
progress  in  the  arts  of  civilization.  In  Arabia  they  had  been  a 
mere  race  of  wandering  shepherds ; l  in  their  new  abodes  they 
became  the  founders  of  mighty  empires,  —  they  built  cities, 
endowed  schools,  collected  libraries ;  and  the  traces  of  their 
power  are  still  to  be  seen  at  Cordova,  at  Bagdad,  and  at  Delhi.2 
Precisely  in  the  same  manner,  there  is  adjoining  Arabia  at  the 
north,  and  only  separated  from  it  elsewhere  by  the  narrow  waters 
of  the  Red  Sea,  an  immense  sandy  plain,  which,  covering  the 

1  "  A  race  of  pastoral  barbarians."  Dickinson  on  the  Arabic  Language,  in  Journal 
of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  V,  p.  323.    Compare  Reynier,  Economic  des  Arabes,  pp.  27, 
28 ;  where,  however,  a  very  simple  question  is  needlessly  complicated.    The  old 
Persian  writers  bestowed  on  them  the  courteous  appellation  of  "  a  band  of  naked 
lizard-eaters"  (Malcolm's  History  of  Persia,  Vol.  I, p.  133).    Indeed,  there  are  few 
things  in  history  better  proved  than  the  barbarism  of  a  people  whom  some  writers 
wish  to  invest  with  a  romantic  interest.    The  eulogy  passed  on  them  by  Meiners 
is  rather  suspicious ;  for  he  concludes  by  saying,  "  die  Eroberungen  der  Araber 
waren  hochst  selten  so  blutig  und  zerstorend,  als  die  Eroberungen  der  Tataren, 
Persen,  Tiirken,  u.s.w.,  in  altern  und  neuern  Zeiten  waren  "  (Fruchtbarkeit  der 
Lander,  Vol.  I,  p.  153).    If  this  is  the  best  that  can  be  said,  the  comparison  with 
Tartars  and  Turks  does  not  prove  much  ;  but  it  is  singular  that  this  learned  author 
should  have  forgotten  a  passage  in  Diodorus   Siculus  which  gives  a  pleasant 
description  of  them  nineteen  centuries  ago  on  the  eastern  side  (Bibliothec.  Hist., 
Lib.  ii,  Vol.  II,  p.  137) :  «rxowr'  ^  fi'LOV  \'go'TpiKbv,  /col  Tro\\rjv  rijs  6/j,6pov  x^paj  Ka.ro.- 
Tptxovre*  ^rjo'TftJovffiv,  etc. 

2  The  only  branch  of  knowledge  which  the  Arabians  ever  raised  to  a  science 
was  astronomy,  which  began  to  be  cultivated  under  the  caliphs  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighth  century,  and  went  on  improving  until  "  la  ville   de   Bagdad  fut, 
pendant  le  dixieme  siecle,  le  theatre  principal  de  1'astronomie  chez  les  orientaux  " 
(Montucla,  Histoire  des  Mathematiques,  Vol.  I,  pp.  355,  364).    The  old  pagan 
Arabs,  like  most  barbarous  people  living  in  a  clear  atmosphere,  had  such  an 
empirical  acquaintance  with  the  celestial  phenomena  as  was  useful  for  practical 
purposes ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  to  justify  the  common  opinion  that  they  studied 
this  subject  as  a  science.    Dr.  Dorn  (Transactions  of  the  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  II, 
p.  371)  says,  "  Of  a  scientific  knowledge  of  astronomy  among  them  no  traces  can 
be  discovered."    Beausobre  (Histoire  de  Manichee,  Vol.  I,  p.  20)  is  quite  enthusi- 
astic about  the  philosophy  of  the  Arabs  in  the  time  of  Pythagoras !  and  he  tells 
us,  that  "  ces  peuples  ont  toujours  cultive  les  sciences."    To  establish  this  fact  he 
quotes  a  long  passage  from  a  life  of  Mohammed  written  early  in  the  eighteenth 
century  by  Boulainvilliers,  whom  he  calls  "  un  des  plus  beaux  genies  de  France." 
If  this  is  an  accurate  description,  those  who  have  read  the  works  of  Boulainvilliers 
will  think  that  France  was  badly  off  for  men  of  genius ;  and  as  to  his  life  of 


182  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

whole  of  Africa  in  the  same  latitude,  extends  westward  until  it 
reaches  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic.1  This  enormous  tract  is,  like 
Arabia,  a  barren  waste  ;  2  and  therefore,  as  in  Arabia,  the  inhabit- 
ants have  always  been  entirely  uncivilized,  acquiring  no  knowl- 
edge, simply  because  they  have  accumulated  no  wealth.3  But 
this  great  desert  is,  in  its  eastern  part,  irrigated  by  the  waters 
of  the  Nile,  the  overflowing  of  which  covers  the  sand  with  a  rich 
alluvial  deposit,  that  yields  to  labor  the  most  abundant,  and 

Mohammed,  it  is  little  better  than  a  romance ;  the  author  was  ignorant  of  Arabic, 
and  knew  nothing  which  had  not  been  already  communicated  by  Maracci  and 
Pococke.  See  Biographic  Universelle,  Vol.  V,  p.  321. 

In  regard  to  the  later  Arabian  astronomers,  one  of  their  great  merits  was  to 
approximate  to  the  value  of  the  annual  precession  much  closer  than  Ptolemy  had 
done.  See  Grant's  History  of  Physical  Astronomy,  p.  319,  1852. 

1  Indeed,  it  goes  beyond  it :  "  the  trackless  sands  of  the  Sahara  desert,  which 
is  even  prolonged  for  miles  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean  in  the  form  of  sandbanks  " 
(Somerville's  Physical  Geography,  Vol.  I,  p.  149).    For  a  singular  instance  of  one 
of  these  sandbanks  being  formed  into  an  island,  see  Journal  of  Geographical  Society, 
Vol.  II,  p.  284.    The  Sahara  desert,  exclusive  of  Bornu  and  Darfur,  covers  an 
area  of  194,000  square  leagues  ;  that  is,  nearly  three  times  the  size  of  France,  or 
twice  the  size  of   the  Mediterranean.    Compare   Lyell's  Geology,  p.  694,   with 
Somerville's  Connection  of  the  Sciences,  p.  294.    As  to  the  probable  southern 
limits  of  the  plateau  of  the  Sahara,  see  Richardson's  Mission  to  Central  Africa, 
1853,  Vol.  II,  pp.  146,  1 56 ;  and  as  to  the  part  of  it  adjoining  the  Mandingo  country, 
see  Mungo  Park's  Travels,  Vol.  I,  pp.  237,  238.    Respecting  the  country  south  of 
Mandara,  some  scanty  information  was  collected  by  Denham  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Lake  Tchad  (Denham 's  Northern  and  Central  Africa,  pp.  121,  122,  144-146). 

2  Richardson,  who  traveled  through  it  south  of  Tripoli,  notices  its  "  features 
of  sterility,   of  unconquerable  barrenness"  (Richardson's  Sahara,  1848,  Vol.  I, 
p.  86) ;  and  see  the  striking  picture  at  page  409.    The  long  and  dreary  route  from 
Murzuk  to  Yeu,  on  Lake  Tchad,  is  described  by  Denham,  one  of  the  extremely 
few  Europeans  who  have  performed  that  hazardous  journey  (Denham's  Central 
Africa,  pp.  2-60).    Even  on  the  shore  of  the  Tchad  there  is  hardly  any  vegetation, 
"  a  coarse  grass  and  a  small  bell-flower  being  the  only  plants  that  I  could  dis- 
cover," p.  90.    Compare  his  remark  on  Bornu,  p.  317.    The  condition  of  part  of 
the  desert  in  the  fourteenth  century  is  described  in  the  Travels  of  Ibn  Batuta, 
p.  233,  which  should  be  compared  with  the  account  given  by  Diodorus  Siculus  of 
the  journey  of  Alexander  to  the  temple  of  Ammon  (Bibliothec.  Hist.,  Lib.  XVII, 
Vol.  VII,  p.  348). 

3  Richardson,  who  traveled  in  1850  from  Tripoli  to  within  a  few  days  of  Lake 
Tchad,  was  struck  by  the  stationary  character  of  the  people.    He  says :  "  Neither 
in  the  desert  nor  in  the  kingdoms  of  central  Africa  is  there  any  march  of  civiliza- 
tion.   All  goes  on   according   to  a  certain  routine    established    for  ages  past" 
(Mission  to  Central  Africa,  Vol.  I,  pp.  304,  305).    See  similar  remarks  in  Pallme's 
Travels  hi  Kordofan,  pp.  108,  109. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       183 

indeed  the  most  extraordinary,  returns.1  The  consequence  is, 
that  in  that  spot  wealth  was  rapidly  accumulated,  the  cultivation 
of  knowledge  quickly  followed,  and  this  narrow  strip  of  land 2 
became  the  seat  of  Egyptian  civilization, — a  civilization  which, 
though  grossly  exaggerated,3  forms  a  striking  contrast  to  the  bar- 
barism of  the  other  nations  of  Africa,  none  of  which  have  been  able 
to  work  out  their  own  progress,  or  emerge,  in  any  degree,  from 
the  ignorance  to  which  the  penury  of  nature  has  doomed  them. 

These  considerations  clearly  prove  that  of  the.  two  primary 
causes  of  civilization,  the  fertility  of  the  soil  is  the  one  which  in 

1  Abd-Allatif,  who  was  in   Egypt  early  in  the   thirteenth  century,  gives  an 
interesting  account  of  the  rising  of  the  Nile,  to  which  Egypt  owes  its  fertility 
(Abd-Allatif,  Relation  de  1'Egypte,  pp.  329-340,  374-376,  and  Appendix,  p.  504). 
See  also  on  these  periodical  inundations,  Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  IV, 
pp.  101-104 ;  and  on  the  half-astronomical,  half-theological  notions  connected  with 
them,  pp.  372-377  ;  Vol.  V,  pp.  291,  292.    Compare  on  the  religious  importance  of 
the  Nile,  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  p.  409.    The  expression,  therefore,  of  Herodotus 
(Book  II,  chap,  v,  Vol.  I,  p.  484),  Supov  You  Trora/xou,  is  true  in  a  much  larger 
sense  than  he  intended ;  since  to  the  Nile  Egypt  owes  all  the  physical  peculiarities 
which  distinguish  it  from  Arabia  and  the  great  African  desert.    Compare  Heeren's 
African  Nations,  Vol.  II,  p.  58 ;  Reynier,  Economic  des  Arabes,  p.  3  ;  Postans  on 
the  Nile  and  Indus,  in  Journal  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  VII,  p.  275,  and  on  the 
difference  between  the  soil  of  the  Nile  and  that  of  the  surrounding  desert,  see 
Volney,  Voyage  en  Syrie  et  en  figypte,  Vol.  I,  p.  14. 

2  "  The  average  breadth  of  the  valley  from  one  mountain  range  to  the  other, 
between  Cairo  in  Lower  and  Edfu  in  Upper  Egypt,  is  only  about  seven  miles ; 
and  that  of  the  cultivable  land,  whose  limits  depend  on  the  inundation,  scarcely 
exceeds  five  and  a  half  "  (Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  I,  p.  216).    Accord- 
ing to  Gerard,  "  the  mean  width  of  the  valley  between  Syene  and  Cairo  is  about 
nine  miles."    Note  in  Heeren's  African  Nations,  Vol.  II,  p.  62. 

3  I  will  give  one  instance  of  this  from  an  otherwise  sensible  writer,  and  a  man, 
too,  of  considerable  learning :   "As  to  the  physical  knowledge  of  the  Egyptians, 
their  contemporaries  gave  them  credit  for  the  astonishing  power  of  their  magic  ; 
and  as  we  cannot  suppose  that  the  instances  recorded  in  Scripture  were  to  be 
attributed  to  the  exertion  of  supernatural  powers,  we  must  conclude  that  they 
were  in  possession  of  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  the  laws  and  combinations 
of  nature  than  what  is  professed  by  the  most  learned  men  of  the  present  age  " 
(Hamilton's  ^Egyptiaca,  pp.  61,  62).    It  is  a  shame  that  such  nonsense  should  be 
written  in  the  nineteenth  century ;  and  yet  a  still  more  recent  author  (Vyse  on  the 
Pyramids,  Vol.  I,  p.  28)  assures  us  that  "  the  Egyptians,  for  especial  purposes, 
were  endowed  with  great  wisdom  and  science."    Science,  properly  so  called,  the 
Egyptians  had  none ;  and  as  to  their  wisdom,  it  was  considerable  enough  to  dis- 
tinguish them  from  barbarous  nations  like  the  old  Hebrews,  but  it  was  inferior  to 
that  of  the  Greeks,  and  it  was  of  course  immeasurably  below  that  of  modern  Europe. 


184  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  ancient  world  exercised  most  influence.  But  in  European 
civilization  the  other  great  cause  —  that  is  to  say,  climate  —  has 
been  the  most  powerful ;  and  this,  as  we  have  seen,  produces  an 
effect  partly  on  the  capacity  of  the  laborer  for  work,  partly 
on  the  regularity  or  irregularity  of  his  habits.  The  difference 
in  the  result  has  curiously  corresponded  with  the  difference  in 
the  cause.  For  although  all  civilization  must  have  for  its  ante- 
cedent the  accumulation  of  wealth,  still  what  subsequently  occurs 
will  be  in  no  small  degree  determined  by  the  conditions  under 
which  the  accumulation  took  place.  In  Asia  and  in  Africa  the 
condition  was  a  fertile  soil,  causing  an  abundant  return ;  in 
Europe  it  was  a  happier  climate,  causing  more  successful  labor. 
In  the  former  case,  the  effect  depends  on  the  relation  between 
the  soil  and  its  produce,  —  in  other  words,  the  mere  operation  of 
one  part  of  external  nature  upon  another.  In  the  latter  case, 
the  effect  depends  on  the  relation  between  the  climate  and  the 
laborer ;  that  is  the  operation  of  external  nature  not  upon  itself 
but  upon  man.  Of  these  two  classes  of  relations,  the  first,  being 
the  less  complicated,  is  the  less  liable  to  disturbance,  and  there- 
fore came  sooner  into  play.  Hence  it  is  that,  in  the  march  of 
civilization,  the  priority  is  unquestionably  due  to  the  most  fertile 
parts  of  Asia  and  Africa.  But  although  their  civilization  was  the 
earliest,  it  was  very  far  indeed  from  being  the  best  or  most  per- 
manent. Owing  to  circumstances  which  I  shall  presently  state, 
the  only  progress  which  is  really  effective  depends  not  upon  the 
bounty  of  nature  but  upon  the  energy  of  man.  Therefore  it  is 
that  the  civilization  of  "Europe,  which  in  its  earliest  stage  was 
governed  by  climate,  has  shown  a  capacity  of  development  un- 
known to  those  civilizations  which  were  originated  by  soil.  For 
the  powers  of  nature,  notwithstanding  their  apparent  magnitude, 
are  limited  and  stationary  ;  at  all  events,  we  have  not  the  slightest 
proof  that  they  have  ever  increased,  or  that  they  will  ever  be 
able  to  increase.  But  the  powers  of  man,  so  far  as  experience 
and  analogy  can  guide  us,  are  unlimited  ;  nor  are  we  possessed 
of  any  evidence  which  authorizes  us  to  assign  even  an  imaginary 
boundary  at  which  the  human  intellect  will  of  necessity  be  brought 
to  a  stand.  And  as  this  power  which  the  mind  possesses  of 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       185 

increasing  its  own  resources  is  a  peculiarity  confined  to  man,  and 
one  eminently  distinguishing  him  from  what  is  commonly  called 
external  nature,  it  becomes  evident  that  the  agency  of  climate, 
which  gives  him  wealth  by  stimulating  his  labor,  is  more  favor- 
able to  his  ultimate  progress  than  the  agency  of  soil,  which, 
likewise  gives  him  wealth,  but  which  does  so  not  by  exciting  his 
energies  but  by  virtue  of  a  mere  physical  relation  between  the 
character  of  the  soil  and  the  quantity  or  value  of  the  produce 
that  it  almost  spontaneously  affords. 

Thus  far  as  to  the  different  ways  in  which  climate  and  soil 
affect  the  creation  of  wealth.  But  another  point  of  equal,  or  per- 
haps of  superior,  importance  remains  behind.  _  After  the  wealth 
has  been  created,  a  question  arises  as  to  how  it  is  to  be  distrib- 
uted ;  that  is  to  say,  what  proportion  is  to  go  to  the  upper  classes 
and  what  to  the  lower.  In  an  advanced  stage  of  society  this 
depends  upon  several  circumstances  of  great  complexity,  and 
which  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  examine.  But  in  a  very  early 
stage  of  society,  and  before  its  later  and  refined  complications 
have  begun,  it  may,  I  think,  be  proved  that  the  distribution  of 
wealth  is,  like  its  creation,  governed  entirely  by  physical  laws  ; 
and  that  those  laws  are  moreover  so  active  as  to  have  invariably 
kept  a  vast  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  fairest  portion  of  J 
the  globe  in  a  condition  of  constant  and  inextricable  poverty.  If 
this  can  be  demonstrated,  the  immense  importance  of  such  laws 
is  manifest.  For  since  wealth  is  an  undoubted  source  of  power, 
it  is  evident  that,  supposing  other  things  equal,  an  inquiry  into 
the  distribution  of  wealth  is  an  inquiry  into  the  distribution  of 
power,  and,  as  such,  will  throw  great  light  on  the  origin  of  those 
social  and  political  inequalities  the  play  and  opposition  of  which 
form  a  considerable  part  of  the  history  of  every  civilized  country. 

If  we  take  a  general  view  of  this  subject,  we  may  say  that 
after  the  creation  and  accumulation  of  wealth  have  once  fairly 
begun,  it  will  be  distributed  among  two  classes,  —  those  whojabory 
and  those  who  do  not  labor ;  the  latter  being,  as  a  class,  the 
more  able,  the  former  the  more  numerous.  The  fund  by  which 
both  classes  are  supported  is  immediately  created  by  the  lower 
class,  whose  physical  energies  are  directed,  combined,  and,  as  it 


1 86  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

were,  economized,  by  the  superior  skill  of  the  upper  class.  The 
reward  of  the  workmen  is  called  their  wages  ;  the  reward  of  the 
contrivers  is  called  their  profits.  At  a  later  period  there  will 
arise  what  may  be  called  the  saving  class  ;  that  is,  a  body  of  men 
who  neither  contrive  nor  work,  but  lend  their  accumulations  to 
those  who  contrive,  and  in  return  for  the  loan  receive  a  part  of 
that  reward  which  belongs  to  the  contriving  class.  In  this  case 
the  members  of  the  saving  class  are  rewarded  for  their  abstinence 
in  refraining  from  spending  their  accumulations,  and  this  reward 
is  termed  the  interest  of  their  money ;  so  that  there  is  made  a 
threefold  division, — interest,  profits,  and  wages.  But  this  is  a 
subsequent  arrangement,  which  can  only  take  place  to  any  extent 
when  wealth  has  been  considerably  accumulated  ;  and  in  the 
stage  of  society  we  are  now  considering,  this  third  or  saving  class 
can  hardly  be  said  to  have  a  separate  existence.1  For  our  present 
purpose,  therefore,  it  is  enough  to  ascertain  what  those  natural 
laws  are  which,  as  soon  as  wealth  is  accumulated,  regulate  the 
proportion  in  which  it  is  distributed  to  the  two  classes  of  laborers 
and  employers. 

/^Now  it  is  evident  that  wages  being  the  price  paid  for  labor, 
the  rate  of  wages  must,  like  the  price  of  all  other  commodities, 
vary  according  to  the  changes  in  the  market.  If  the  supply  of 
laborers  outstrips  the  demand,  wages  will  fall ;  if  the  demand 
^exceeds  the  supply,  they  will  rise.  Supposing,  therefore,  that  in 
any  country  there  is  a  given  amount  of  wealth  to  be  divided 
between  employers  and  workmen,  every  increase  in  the  number 
of  the  workmen  will  tend  to  lessen  the  average  reward  each  can 
receive.  And  if  we  set  aside  those  disturbing  causes  by  which 
all  general  views  are  affected,  it  will  be  found  that,  in  the  long 

1  In  a  still  more  advanced  stage  there  is  a  fourth  division  of  wealth,  and  part 
of  the  produce  of  labor  is  absorbed  by  rent.  This,  however,  is  not  an  element 
of  price,  but  a  consequence  of  it ;  and  in  the  ordinary  march  of  affairs,  consider- 
able time  must  elapse  before  it  can  begin.  Rent,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word, 
is  the  price  paid  for  using  the  natural  and  indestructible  powers  of  the  soil,  and 
must  not  be  confused  with  rent  commonly  so  called ;  for  this  last  also  includes  the 
profits  of  stock.  I  notice  this,  because  several  of  the  opponents  of  Ricardo  have 
placed  the  beginning  of  rent  too  early,  by  overlooking  the  fact  that  apparent  rent 
is  very  often  profits  disguised. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      187 

run,  the  question  of  wages  is  a  question  of  population;  for 
although  the  total  sum  of  the  wages  actually  paid  depends 
upon  the  largeness  of  the  fund  from  which  they  are  drawn,  still 
the  amount  of  wages  received  by  each  man  must  diminish  as 
the  claimants  increase,  unless,  owing  to  other  circumstances,  the 
fund  itself  should  so  advance  as  to  keep  pace  with  the  greater 
demands  made  upon  it.1 

To  know  the  circumstances  most  favorable  to  the  increase  of 
what  may  be  termed  the  wages-fund  is  a  matter  of  great  moment, 
but  is  one  with  which  we  are  not  immediately  concerned.  The 
question  we  have  now  before  us  regards  not  the  accumulation  of 
wealth  but  its  distribution ;  and  the  object  is  to  ascertain  what 
those  physical  conditions  are  which,  by  encouraging  a  rapid 
growth  of  population,  oversupply  the  labor  market,  and  thus 
keep  the  average  rate  of  wages  at  a  very  low  point. 

Of  all  the  physical  agents  by  which  the  increase  of  the  labor- 
ing classes  is  affected,  that  of  food  is  the  most  active  and  uni- 
versal. If  two  countries,  equal  in  all  other  respects,  differ  solely 
in  this,  —  that  in  one  the  national  food  is  cheap  and  abundant, 


i  »  \Vages  depend,  then,  on  the  proportion  between  the  number  of  the  laboring 
population  and  the  capital  or  other  funds  devoted  to  the  purchase  of  labor;  we 
will  say,  for  shortness,  the  capital.  If  wages  are  higher  at  one  time  or  place  than 
at  another,  if  the  subsistence  and  comfort  of  the  class  of  hired  laborers  are  more 
ample,  it  is,  and  can  be,  for  no  other  reason  than  because  capital  bears  a  greater 
proportion  to  population.  It  is  not  the  absolute  amount  of  accumulation  or  of 
production  that  is  of  importance  to  the  laboring  class ;  it  is  not  the  amount  even 
of  the  funds  destined  for  distribution  among  the  laborers' :  it  is  the  proportion 
between  those  funds  and  the  numbers  among  whom  they  are  shared.  The  condi- 
tion of  the  class  can  be  bettered  in  no  other  way  than  by  altering  that  proportion 
to  their  advantage  ;  and  every  scheme  for  their  benefit  which  does  not  proceed  on 
this  as  its  foundation  is,  for  all  permanent  purposes,  a  delusion  "  (Mill's  Prin- 
ciples of  Political  Economy,  1849,  Vol.  I,  p.  425).  See  also  Vol.  II,  pp.  264,  265, 
and  M'Culloch's  Political  Economy,  pp.  379,  380.  Ricardo,  in  his  Essay  on  the 
Influence  of  a  Low  Price  of  Corn,  has  stated,  with  his  usual  terseness,  the  three 
possible  forms  of  this  question  :  "  The  rise  or  fall  of  wages  is  common  to  all 
states  of  society,  whether  it  be  the  stationary,  the  advancing,  or  the  retrograde 
state.  In  the  stationary  state,  it  is  regulated  wholly  by  the  increase  or  falling  off 
of  the  population.  In  the  advancing  state,  it  depends  on  whether  the  capital  or 
the  population  advance  at  the  more  rapid  course.  In  the  retrograde  state,  it 
depends  on  whether  population  or  capital  decrease  with  the  greater  rapidity  " 
(Ricardo's  Works,  p.  379). 


1 88  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  in  the  other  scarce  and  dear,  the  population  of  the  former 
country  will  inevitably  increase  more  rapidly  than  the  population 
of  the  latter.1  And,  by  a  parity  of  reasoning,  the  average  rate 
of  wages  will  be  lower  in  the  former  than  in  the  latter,  simply 
because  the  labor  market  will  be  more  amply  stocked.2  An 
inquiry,  therefore,  into  the  physical  laws  on  which  the  food  of 
different  countries  depends  is,  for  our  present  purpose,  of  the 
greatest  importance;  and  fortunately  it  is  one  respecting  which 
we  are  able,  in  the  present  state  of  chemistry  and  physiology,  to 
arrive  at  some  precise  and  definite  conclusions. 

The  food  consumed  by  man  produces  two,  and  only  two,  effects 
necessary  to  his  existence.  These  are,  first,  to  supply  him  with 
that  animal  heat  without  which  the  functions  of  life  would  stop ; 
and,  secondly,  to  repair  the  waste  constantly  taking  place  in  his 
tissues,  that  is,  in  the  mechanism  of  his  frame.  For  each  of  these 
separate  purposes  there  is  a  separate  food.  The  temperature  of 
our  bodies  is  kept  up  by  substances  which  contain  no  nitrogen, 
and  are  called  nonazotized  ;  the  incessant  decay  in  our  organism 
•  is  repaired  by  what  are  known  as  azotized  substances,  in  which 
nitrogen  is  always  found.3  In  the  former  case,  the  carbon  of 
nonazotized  food  combines  with  the  oxygen  we  take  in,  and  gives 
rise  to  that  internal  combustion  by  which  our  animal  heat  is 
renewed.  In  the  latter  case,  nitrogen  having  little  affinity  for 

1  The  standard  of  comfort  being  of  course  supposed  the  same. 

2  "  No  point  is  better  established  than  that  the  supply  of  laborers  will  always 
ultimately  be  in  proportion  to   the  means  of  supporting  them"  (Principles  of 
Political  Economy,  chap,  xxi,   in  Ricardo's   Works,  p.   176).    Compare  Smith's 
Wealth  of  Nations,  Book  I,  chap,  xi,  p.  86,  and  M'Culloch's  Political  Economy, 
p.  222. 

8  The  division  of  food  into  azotized  and  nonazotized  is  said  to  have  been  first 
pointed  out  by  Magendie.  See  Muller's  Physiology,  Vol.  I,  p.  525.  It  is  now 
recognized  by  most  of  the  best  authorities.  See,  for  instance,  Liebig's  Animal 
Chemistry,  p.  134;  Carpenter's  Human  Physiology,  p.  685;  Brande's  Chemistry, 
1870,  Vol.  II,  pp.  1218.  The  first  tables  of  food  constructed  according  to  it  were 
by  Boussingault ;  see  an  elaborate  essay  by  Messrs.  Lawes  and  Gilbert  on  "  The 
Composition  of  Foods,"  in  Report  of  British  Association  for  1852,  p.  323  ;  but  the 
experiments  made  by  these  gentlemen  are  neither  numerous  nor  diversified  enough 
to  establish  a  general  law ;  still  less  can  we  accept  their  singular  assertion,  page  346, 
that  the  comparative  prices  of  different  foods  are  a  test  of  the  nutriment  they 
comparatively  contain. 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       189 

oxygen,1  the  nitrogenous  or  azotized  food  is,  as  it  were,  guarded 
against  combustion  ; 2  and  being  thus  preserved,  is  able  to  perform 
its  duty  of  repairing  the  tissues,  and  supplying  those  losses  which 
the  human  organism  constantly  suffers  in  the  wear  and  tear  of 
daily  life. 

These  are  the  two  great  divisions  of  food  ; 3  and  if  we  inquire 
into  the  laws  which  regulate  the  relation  they  bear  to  man,  we 
shall  find  that  in  each  division  the  most  important  agent  is  climate. 
When  men  live  in  a  hot  country  their  animal  heat  is  more  easily 
kept  up  than  when  they  live  in  a  cold  one  ;  therefore  they  require 
a  smaller  amount  of  that  nonazotized  food,  the  sole  business  of 
which  is  to  maintain  at  a  certain  point  the  temperature  of  the 
body.  In  the  same  way,  in  the  hot  country,  they  require  a  smaller 
amount  of  azotized  food,  because  on  the  whole  their  bodily 
exertions  are  less  frequent,  and  on  that  account  the  decay  of 
their  tissues  is  less  rapid.4 

1  "  Of  all  the  elements  of  the  animal  body,  nitrogen  has  the  feeblest  attraction 
for  oxygen ;  and,  what  is  still  more  remarkable,  it  deprives  all  combustible  ele- 
ments with  which  it  combines,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  of  the  power  of  com- 
bining with  oxygen,  that  is,  of   undergoing  combustion "   (Liebig's   Letters  on 
Chemistry,  p.  372). 

2  The  doctrine  of  what  may  be  called  the  protecting  power  of  some  substances 
is  still  imperfectly  understood,  and,  until  late  in  the  eighteenth  century,  its  exist- 
ence was  hardly  suspected.    It  is  now  known  to  be  connected  with  the  general 
theory  of  poisons.    See  Turner's   Chemistry,  Vol.   I,  p.   516.    To  this  we   must 
probably  ascribe  the  fact,  that  several  poisons,  which  are  fatal  when  applied  to  a 
wounded  surface,  may  be  taken  into  the  stomach  with  impunity  (Brodie's  Physio- 
logical Researches,  1851,  pp.  137,  138).    It  seems  more  reasonable  to  refer  this  to 
chemical  laws  than  to  hold,  with  Sir  Benjamin  Brodie,  that  some  poisons  "  destroy 
life  by  paralyzing  the  muscles  of  respiration  without  immediately  affecting  the 
action  of  the  heart." 

8  Prout's  well-known  division  into  saccharine,  oily,  and  albuminous  appears  to 
me  of  much  inferior  value,  though  I  observe  that  it  is  adopted  in  the  last  edition 
of  Elliotson's  Human  Physiology,  pp.  65,  160.  The  division  by  M.  Lepelletier 
into  "  les  aliments  solides  et  les  boissons  "  is  of  course  purely  empirical  (Lepelletier, 
Physiologic  Medicale,  Vol.  II,  p.  100,  Paris,  1832).  In  regard  to  Prout's  classifica- 
tion, compare  Burdach,  Traite  de  Physiologic,  Vol.  IX,  p.  240,  with  Wagner's 
Physiology,  p.  452. 

4  The  evidence  of  an  universal  connection  in  the  animal  frame  between  exertion 
and  decay  is  now  almost  complete.  In  regard  to  the  muscular  system,  see  Car- 
penter's Human  Physiology,  1846,  pp.  440,  441,  581:  "There  is  strong  reason 
to  believe  the  waste  or  decomposition  of  the  muscular  tissue  to  be  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  the  degree  in  which  it  is  exerted."  This  perhaps  would  b»  generally 


190  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Since,  therefore,  the  inhabitants  of  hot  climates  do,  in  their 
natural  and  ordinary  state,  consume  less  food  than  the  inhabitants 
of  cold  ones,  it  inevitably  follows  that,  provided  other  things  remain 
equal,  the  growth  of  population  will  be  more  rapid  in  countries 
which  are  hot  than  in  those. which  are  cold.  For  practical  purposes 
it  is  immaterial  whether  the  greater  plenty  of  a  substance  by 
which  the  people  are  fed  arises  from  a  larger  supply,  or  whether 
it  arises  from  a  smaller  consumption.  When  men  eat  less,  the 
result  will  be  just  the  same  as  if  they  had  more,  because  the 
same  amount  of  nutriment  will  go  further,  and  thus  population 
will  gain  a  power  of  increasing  more  quickly  than  it  could  do  in 
a  colder  country,  where,  even  if  provisions  were  equally  abundant, 
they,  owing  to  the  climate,  would  be  sooner  exhausted. 

This  is  the  first  point  of  view  in  which  the  laws  of  climate  are, 
through  the  medium  of  food,  connected  with  the  laws  of  popu- 
lation, and  therefore  with  the  laws  of  the  distribution  of  wealth. 
But  there  is  also  another  point  of  view,  which  follows  the  same 
line  of  thought  and  will  be  found  to  strengthen  the  argument 
just  stated.  This  is,  that  in  cold  countries  not  only  are  men 
compelled  to  eat  more  than  in  hot  ones,  but  their  food  is  dearer,  — 
that  is  to  say,  to  get  it  is  more  difficult,  and  requires  a  greater 
expenditure  of  labor.  The  reason  of  this  I  will  state  as  briefly 
as  possible,  without  entering  into  any  details  beyond  those  which 
are  absolutely  necessary  for  a  right  understanding  of  this  inter- 
esting subject. 

The  objects  of  food  are,  as  we  have  seen,  only  two,  namely : 
to  keep  up  the  warmth  of  the  body,  and  repair  the  waste  in  the 

anticipated  even  in  the  absence  of  direct  proof ;  but  what  is  more  interesting  is 
that  the  same  principle  holds  good  of  the  nervous  system.  The  human  brain  of 
an  adult  contains  about  one  and  a  half  per  cent  of  phosphorus  ;  and  it  has  been 
ascertained  that  after  the  mind  has  been  much  exercised  phosphates  are  excreted, 
a«d  that  in  the  case  of  inflammation  of  the  brain  their  excretion  (by  the  kidneys) 
is  very  considerable.  See  Paget's  Lectures  on  Surgical  Pathology,  1853,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  6,  7,  434;  Carpenter's  Human  Physiology,  pp.  192,  193,  222;  Simon's  Animal 
Chemistry,  Vol.  II,  p.  426;  Henle,  Anatomic  Generate,  Vol.  II,  p.  172.  The 
reader  may  also  consult,  respecting  the  phosphorus  of  the  brain,  the  recent  very 
able  work  of  MM.  Robin  et  Verdeil,  Chimie  Anatomique,  Vol.  I,  p.  215;  Vol.  II, 
p.  348,  Paris,  1853.  According  to  these  writers  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  445),  its  existence  in 
the  brain  was  first  announced  by  Hensing,  in  1779. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      191 

tissues.1  Of  these  two  objects,  the  former  is  effected  by  the 
oxygen  of  the  air  entering  our  lungs,  and,  as  it  travels  through 
the  system,  combining  with  the  carbon  which  we  take  in  our 
food.2  This  combination  of  oxygen  and  carbon  never  can  occur 
without  producing  a  considerable  amount  of  heat,  and  it  is  in 
this  way  that  the  human  frame  is  maintained  at  its  necessary 

1  Though  both  objects  are  equally  essential,  the  former  is  usually  the  more 
pressing ;  and  it  has  been  ascertained  by  experiment,  what  we  should  expect  from 
theory,  that  when  animals  are  starved  to  death  there  is  a  progressive  decline  in 
the  temperature  of  their  bodies  ;  so  that  the  proximate  cause  of  death  by  starva- 
tion is  not  weakness,  but  cold.    See  Williams'  Principles  of  Medicine,  p.  36 ;  and 
on  the  connection  between  the  loss  of  animal  heat  and  the  appearance  of  rigor 
mortis  in  the  contractile  parts  of  the  body,  see  Vogel's  Pathological  Anatomy  of  the 
Human  Body,  p.  532.    Compare  the  important  and  thoughtful  work  of  Burdach, 
Physiologic  comme  Science  d'Observation,  Vol.  V,  pp.  144,  436  ;  Vol.  IX,  p.  231. 

2  Until  the  last  twenty  or  five  and  twenty  years,  it  used  to  be  supposed  that  this 
combination  took  place  in  the  lungs ;  but  more  careful  experiments  have  made  it 
probable  that  the  oxygen  unites  with  the  carbon  in  the  circulation,  and  that  the 
blood  corpuscles  are  the  carriers  of  the  oxygen.    Compare  Liebig's  Animal  Chem- 
istry, p.  78;  Letters  on  Chemistry,  pp.  335,  336;   Turner's  Chemistry,  Vol.  II, 
p.  1319 ;  Miiller's  Physiology,  Vol.  I,  pp.  92,  159.    That  the  combination  does  not 
take  place  in  the  air  cells  is  moreover  proved  by  the  fact  that  the  lungs  are  not  hotter 
than  other  parts  of  the  body.    See  Miiller,  Vol.  I,  p.  348 ;  Thomson's  Animal  Chem- 
istry, p.  633  ;  and  Brodie's  Physiological  Researches,  p.  33.    Another  argument  in 
favor  of  the  red  corpuscles  being  the  carriers  of  oxygen  is  that  they  are  most 
abundant  in  those  classes  of  vertebrata  which  maintain  the  highest  temperature  ; 
while  the  blood  of  invertebrata  contains  very  few  of  them ;  and  it  has  been  doubted 
if  they  even  exist  in  the  lower  articulata  and  mollusca.    See  Carpenter's  Human 
Physiology,  pp.  109,  532;  Grant's  Comparative  Anatomy,  p.  472;  Elliotson's  Human 
Physiology,  p.  159.    In  regard  to  the  different  dimensions  of  corpuscles,  see  Henle, 
Anatomic  Generale,  Vol.  I,  pp.  457-467,  494,  495;    Blainville,  Physiologic  Com- 
paree,  Vol.  I,  pp.  298,  299,  301-304;   Milne-Edwards,  Zoologie,  Part  I,  pp.  54-56; 
Fourth  Report  of  British  Association,  pp.   117,  118;  Simon's  Animal  Chemistry, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  103,  104;  and,  above  all,  the  important  observations  of  Mr.  Gulliver 
(Carpenter,  pp.  105,  106).    These  additions  to  our  knowledge,  besides  being  con- 
nected with  the  laws  of  animal  heat  and  of  nutrition,  will,  when  generalized,  assist 
speculative  minds  in  raising  pathology  to  a  science.    In  the  meantime  I  may  men- 
tion the  relation  between  an  examination  of  the  corpuscles  and  the  theory  of 
inflammation  which  Hunter  and  Broussais  were  unable  to  settle :  this  is,  that  the 
proximate  cause  of  inflammation  is  the  obstruction  of  the  vessels  by  the  adhe- 
sion of  the  pale  corpuscles.    Respecting  this  striking  generalization,  which  is  still 
on  its  trial,  compare  Williams'  Principles  of   Medicine,  1848,  pp.  258-265,  with 
Paget's  Surgical  Pathology,  1853,  Vol.  I,  pp.  313-317;  Jones  and  Sieveking's 
Pathological  Anatomy,  1854,  pp.   28,  105,  106.    The  difficulties  connected  with 
the  scientific  study  of  inflammation  are  evaded  in  Vogel's  Pathological  Anatomy, 
p.  418 ;  a  work  which  appears  to  me  to  have  been  greatly  overrated. 


192  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

temperature.1  By  virtue  of  a  law  familiar  to  chemists,  carbon  and 
oxygen,  like  all  other  elements,  will  only  unite  in  certain  definite 
proportions  ; 2  so  that  to  keep  up  a  healthy  balance,  it  is  needful 
that  the  food  which  contains  the  carbon  should  vary  according 
to  the  amount  of  oxygen  taken  in  ;  while  it  is  equally  needful 
that  we  should  increase  the  quantity  of  both  of  these  constitu- 
ents whenever  a  greater  external  cold  lowers  the  temperature  of 
the  body.  Now  it  is  obvious  that  in  a  very  cold  climate  this  neces- 
sity of  providing  a  nutriment  more  highly  carbonized  will  arise 
in  two  distinct  ways.  In  the  first  place,  the  air  being  denser,  men 
imbibe  at  each  inspiration  a  greater  volume  of  oxygen  than  they 
would  do  in  a  climate  where  the  air  is  rarefied  by  heat.3  In  the 
second  place,  cold  accelerates  their  respiration,  and  thus  obliging 
them  to  inhale  more  frequently  than  the  inhabitants  of  hot  coun- 
tries, increases  the  amount  of  oxygen  which  they  on  an  average 
take  in.4  On  both  these  grounds  the  consumption  of  oxygen 

1  On  the  amount  of  heat  disengaged  by  the  union  of  carbon  and  oxygen,  see  the 
experiments  of  Dulong,  in  Liebig's  Animal  Chemistry,  p.  44 ;  and  those  of  Des- 
pretz,  in  Thomson's  Animal  Chemistry,  p.  634.    Just  in  the  same  way  we  find  that 
the  temperature  of  plants  is  maintained  by  the  combination  of  oxygen  with  car- 
bon:  see   Balfour's  Botany,  pp.  231,  232,  322,  323.    As  to  the  amount  of  heat 
caused  generally  by  chemical  combination,  there  is  an  essay  well  worth  reading 
by  Dr.  Thomas  Andrews  in  Report  of  British  Association  for  /&#>,  pp.  63-78.    See 
also  Report  for  1852,  Transactions  of  Sections,  p.  40,  and  Liebig  and  Kopp's  Reports 
on  the  Progress  of  Chemistry,  Vol.  I,  p.  34  ;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  16 ;  Vol.  IV,  p.  20  ;  also 
Pouillet,  filements  de  Physique,  Paris,  1832,  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  p.  411. 

2  The  law  of  definite  proportions,  which,  since   the  brilliant  discoveries  by 
Dalton,  is  the  corner  stone  of  chemical  knowledge,  is  laid  down  with  admirable 
clearness  in   Turner's  Elements   of  Chemistry,  Vol.   I,  pp.   146-151.    Compare 
Brande's  Chemistry,  Vol.  I,  pp.  139-144;  Cuvier,  Progres  des  Sciences,  Vol.  II, 
p.  255;  Somerville's  Connection  of  the  Sciences,  pp.  120,  121.    But  none  of  these 
writers  have  considered  the  law  so  philosophically  as  M.  A.  Comte,  Philosophic 
Positive,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  133-176,  one  of  the  best  chapters  in  his  very  profound 
but  ill-understood  work. 

3  "  Ainsi,  dans  des  temps  egaux,  la  quantite  d'oxygene  consommee  par  le  meme 
animal  est  d'autant  plus  grande  que  la  temperature  ambiante  est  moins  elevee  " 
(Robin  et  Verdeil,  Chimie  Anatomique,  Vol.  II,  p.  44).    Compare  Simon's  Lectures 
on  Pathology,  1850,  p.  188,  for  the  diminished  quantity  of  respiration  in  a  high 
temperature ;  though  one  may  question  Mr.  Simon's  inference  that  therefore  the 
blood  is  more  venous  in  hot  countries  than  in  cold  ones.    This  is  not  making 
allowance  for  the  difference  of  diet,  which  corrects  the  difference  of  temperature. 

*  "  The  consumption  of  oxygen  in  a  given  time  may  be  expressed  by  the  num- 
ber of  respirations."    Liebig's    Letters   on    Chemistry,  p.  314  ;  and  Thomson1! 


193 

becomes  greater ;  it  is  therefore  requisite  that  the  consumption 
of  carbon  should  also  be  greater,  since  by  the  union  of  these  two 
elements  in  certain  definite  proportions  the  temperature  of  the 
body  and  the  balance  of  the  human  frame  can  alone  be  maintained. 
Proceeding  from  these  chemical  and  physiological  principles,^ 
we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  the  colder  the  country  is  in 
which  a  people  live,  the  more  highly  carbonized  will  be  their  food. 
And  this,  which  is  a  purely  scientific  inference,  has  been  verified 
by  actual  experiment.  The  inhabitants  of  the  polar  regions  con- 
sume large  quantities  of  whale  oil  and  blubber  ;  while  within  the 
tropics  such  food  would  soon  put  an  end  to  life,  and  therefore 
the  ordinary  diet  consists  almost  entirely  of  fruit,  rice,  and  other 
vegetables.  Now  it  has  been  ascertained  by  careful  analysis  that 
in  the  polar  food  there  is  an  excess  of  carbon  ;  in  the  tropicaT 
food,  an  excess  of  oxygen.  Without  entering  into  details,  which 
to  the  majority  of  readers  would  be  distasteful,  it  may  be  said 
generally  that  the  oils  contain  about  six  times  as  much  carbon 
as  the  fruits,  and  that  they  have  in  them  very  little  oxygen ;  * 

Animal  Chemistry,  p.  611.  It  is  also  certain  that  exercise  increases  the  number 
of  respirations ;  and  birds,  which  are  the  most  active  of  all  animals,  consume  more 
oxygen  than  any  others.  Milne-Edwards,  Zoologie,  Part  I,  p.  88;  Part  II,  p.  371 ; 
Flourens,  Travaux  de  Cuvier,  pp.  153,  154,  265,  266.  Compare,  on  the  connection 
between  respiration  and  the  locomotive  organs,  Beclard,  Anatomie  Generate, 
pp.  39,  44;  Burdach,  Traite  de  Physiologic,  Vol.  IX,  pp.  485,  556-559;  Carus' 
Comparative  Anatomy,  Vol.  I,  pp.  99,  164,  358;  Vol.  II,  pp.  142,  160;  Grant's 
Comparative  Anatomy,  pp.  455,  495,  522,  529,  537  ;  Rymer  Jones'  Animal  King- 
dom, pp.  369,  440,  692,  714,  720;  Owen's  Invertebrata,  pp.  322,  345,  386,  505. 
Thus,  too,  it  has  been  experimentally  ascertained  that  in  human  beings  exercise 
increases  the  amount  of  carbonic  acid  gas  (Mayo's  Human  Physiology,  p.  64 ; 
Liebig  and  Kopp's  Reports,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  359). 

If  we  now  put  these  facts  together,  their  bearing  on  the  propositions  in  the 
text  will  become  evident,  because,  on  the  whole,  there  is  more  exercise  taken  in 
cold  climates  than  in  hot  ones,  and  there  must  therefore  be  an  increased  respiratory 
action.  For  proof  that  greater  exercise  is  both  taken  and  required,  compare 
Wrangel's  Polar  Expedition,  pp.  79,  102  ;  Richardson's  Arctic  Expedition,  Vol.  I, 
p.  385  ;  Simpson's  North  Coast  of  America,  pp.  49,  88,  which  should  be  contrasted 
with  the  contempt  for  such  amusements  in  hot  countries.  Indeed,  in  polar  regions 
all  this  is  so  essential  to  preserve  a  normal  state  that  scurvy  can  only  be  kept  off 
in  the  northern  part  of  the  American  continent  by  taking  considerable  exercise. 
See  Crantz*  History  of  Greenland,  Vol.  I,  pp.  46,  62,  338. 

1  "  The  fruits  used  by  the  inhabitants  of  southern  climes  do  not  contain,  in  a 
fresh  state,  more  than  12  per  cent  of  carbon  ;  while  the  blubber  and  train  oil  which 


194  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

while  starch,  which  is  the  most  universal  and,  in  reference  to 
nutrition,  the  most  important  constituent  in  the  vegetable  world,1 
is  nearly  half  oxygen.2 

The  connection  between  this  circumstance  and  the  subject 
before  us  is  highly  curious  ;  for  it  is  a  most  remarkable  fact,  and 
one  to  which  I  would  call  particular  attention,  that  owing  to 
some  more  general  law,  of  which  we  are  ignorant,  highly  carbon- 
ized food  is  more  costly  than  food  in  which  comparatively  little 
carbon  is  found.  The  fruits  of  the  earth,  of  which  oxygen  is  the 
most  active  principle,  are  very  abundant ;  they  may  be  obtained 
without  danger,  and  almost  without  trouble.  But  that  highly 
carbonized  food  which  in  a  very  cold  climate  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  life  is  not  produced  in  so  facile  and  spontaneous  a  man- 
ner. It  is  not,  like  vegetables,  thrown  up  by  the  soil ;  but  it 
consists  of  the  fat,  the  blubber,  and  the  oil  3  of  powerful  and 
ferocious  animals.  To  procure  it,  man  must  incur  great  risk  and 


feed  the  inhabitants  of  polar  regions  contain  66  to  80  per  cent  of  that  element  " 
(Liebig's  Letters  on  Chemistry,  p.  320;  also  p.  375,  and  Turner's  Chemistry, 
Vol.  II,  p.  1315).  According  to  Prout  (Mayo's  Human  Physiology,  p.  136),  "the  pro- 
portion of  carbon  in  oily  bodies  varies  from  about  60  to  80  per  cent."  The  quan- 
tity of  oil  and  fat  habitually  consumed  in  cold  countries  is  remarkable.  Wrangel 
(Polar  Expedition,  p.  21)  says  of  the  tribes  in  the  northeast  of  Siberia:  "Fat  is 
their  greatest  delicacy.  They  eat  it  in  every  possible  shape,  —  raw,  melted,  fresh, 
or  spoilt."  See  also  Simpson's  Discoveries  on  the  North  Coast  of  America, 
pp.  147,  404. 

1  "  So  common  that  no  plant  is  destitute  of  it "  (Lindley's  Botany,  Vol.1,  p.  in); 
and  at  page  121,  "Starch  is  the  most  common  of  all  vegetable  productions." 
Dr.  Lindley  adds  (Vol.  I,  p.  292),  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  the  grains  of 
starch  secreted  by  plants  from  cytoblasts.    See  also  on  the  starch  granules,  first 
noticed  by  M.  Link,  Reports  on  Botany  by  the  Ray  Society,  pp.  223,  370;  and 
respecting  its  predominance  in  the  vegetable  world,  compare  Thomson's  Chem- 
istry of   Vegetables,  pp.  650-652,  875;   Brande's  Chemistry,  Vol.  II,  p.   1160; 
Turner's  Chemistry,  Vol.  II,  p.  1236;  Liebig  and  Kopp's  Reports,  Vol.  II,  pp.  97, 
98,  122. 

2  The  oxygen  is  49.39  out  of  100.    See  the  table  in  Liebig's  Letters  on  Chem- 
istry, p.  379.    Amidin,  which  is  the  soluble  part  of  starch,  contains  53.33  per  cent 
of  oxygen.    See  Thomson's  Chemistry  of  Vegetables,  p.  654,  on  the  authority  of 
Prout,  who  has  the  reputation  of  being  an  accurate  experimenter. 

8  Of  which  a  single  whale  will  yield  "  cent  vingt  tqnneaux  "  (Cuvier,  Regne 
Animal,  Vol.  I,  p.  297).  In  regard  to  the  solid  food,  Sir  J.  Richardson  (Arctic 
Expedition,  1851,  Vol.  I,  p.  243)  says  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  Arctic  regions 
only  maintain  themselves  by  chasing  whales  and  "consuming  blubber." 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS 


'95 


expend  great  labor.  And  although  this  is  undoubtedly  a  con- 
trast of  extreme  cases,  still  it  is  evident  that  the  nearer  a  people 
approach  to  either  extremity,  the  more  subject  will  they  be  to 
the  conditions  by  which  that  extremity  is  governed.  It  is  evident 
that,  as  a  general  rule,  the  colder  a  country  is,  the  more  its  food 
will  be  carbonized  ;  the  warmer  it  is,  the  more  its  food  will  be 
oxidized.1  At  the  same  time,  carbonized  food,  being  chiefly 
drawn  from  the  animal  world,  is  more  difficult  to  obtain  than 
oxidized  food,  which  is  drawn  from  the  vegetable  world.2  The 
result  has  been  that  among  nations  where  the  coldness  of  the 
climate  renders  a  highly  carbonized  diet  essential,  there  is  for 
the  most  part  displayed,  even  in  the  infancy  of  society,  a  bolder 
and  more  adventurous  character  than  we  find  among  those  other 
nations  whose  ordinary  nutriment,  being  highly  oxidized,  is 
easily  obtained,  and  indeed  is  supplied  to  them  by  the  bounty  of 
nature,  gratuitously  and  without  a  struggle.3  From  this  original 
divergence  there  follow  many  other  consequences,  which,  how- 
ever, I  am  not  now  concerned  to  trace  ;  my  present  object  being 

1  It  is  said  that  to  keep  a  person  in  health  his  food,  even  in  the  temperate 
parts  of  Europe,  should  contain  "  a  full  eighth  more  carbon  in  winter  than  in 
summer  "  (Liebig's  Animal  Chemistry,  p.  16). 

2  The  most  highly  carbonized  of  all  foods  are  undoubtedly  yielded  by  animals  ; 
the  most  highly  oxidized,  by  vegetables.    In  the  vegetable  kingdom  there  is,  how- 
ever, so  much  carbon  that   its  predominance,   accompanied  with   the  rarity  of 
nitrogen,  has  induced  chemical  botanists  to  characterize  plants  as  carbonized,  and 
animals  as  azotized.    But  we  have  here  to  attend  to  a  double  antithesis.    Vege- 
tables are  carbonized  in  so  far  as  they  are  nonazotized ;  but  they  are  oxidized  in 
opposition  to  the  highly  carbonized  animal  food  of  cold  countries.    Besides  this, 
it  is  important  to  observe  that  the  carbon  of  vegetables  is  most  abundant  in  the 
woody  and  unnutritious  part,  which  is  not  eaten  ;  while  the  carbon  of  animals  is 
found  in  the  fatty  and  oily  parts,  which  are  not  only  eaten,  but  are,  in  cold  coun- 
tries, greedily  devoured. 

8  Sir  J.  Malcolm  (History  of  Persia,  Vol.  II,  p.  380),  speaking  of  the  cheapness 
of  vegetables  in  the  East,  says,  "  In  some  parts  of  Persia  fruit  has  hardly  any 
value."  Cuvier,  in  a  striking  passage  (Regne  Animal,  Vol.  I,  pp.  73,  74),  has  con- 
trasted vegetable  with  animal  food,  and  thinks  that  the  former,  being  so  easily 
obtained,  is  the  more  natural.  But  the  truth  is  that  they  are  equally  natural, 
though  when  Cuvier  wrote  scarcely  anything  was  known  of  the  laws  which  govern 
the  relation  between  climate  and  food.  On  the  skill  and  energy  required  to  obtain 
food  in  cold  countries,  see  Wrangel's  Polar  Expedition,  pp.  70,  71,  191,  192; 
Simpson's  Discoveries  on  the  North  Coast  of  America,  p.  249  ;  Crantz'  History 
of  Greenland,  Vol.  I,  pp.  22,  32,  105,  131,  154,  155 ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  203,  265,  324. 


196  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

merely  to  point  out  how  this  difference  of  food  affects  the  pro- 
portion in  which  wealth  is  distributed  to  the  different  classes. 

The  way  in  which  this  proportion  is  actually  altered  has,  I 
hope,  been  made  clear  by  the  preceding  argument.  But  it  may 
be  useful  to  recapitulate  the  facts  on  which  the  argument  is 
based.  The  facts,  then,  are  simply  these.  The  rate  of  wages 
fluctuates  with  the  population,  increasing  when  the  labor  mar- 
ket is  undersupplied,  diminishing  when  it  is  ovcrsupplied.  The 
population  itself,  though  affected  by  many  other  circumstances^ 
does  undoubtedly  fluctuate  with  the  supply  of  food,  advancing 
when  the  supply  is  plentiful,  halting  or  receding  when  the  supply 
is  scanty.  The  food  essential  to  life  is  scarcer  in  cold  countries 
than  in  hot  ones  ;  and  not  only  is  it  scarcer,  but  more  of  it 
is  required  ; 1  so  that  on  both  grounds  smaller  encouragement  is 
given  to  the  growth  of  that  population  from  whose  ranks  the 
labor  market  is  stocked.  To  express,  therefore,  the  conclusion 
in  its  simplest  form,  we  may  say  that  there  is  a  strong  and  con- 
stant tendency  in  hot  countries  for  wages  to  be  low,  in.  cold 
countries  for  them  to  be  high. 

Applying  now  this  great  principle  to  the  general  course  of 
history,  we  shall  find  proofs  of  its  accuracy  in  every  direction. 
Indeed,  there  is  not  a  single  instance  to  the  contrary.  In  Asia, 
in  Africa,  and  in  America  all  the  ancient  civilizations  were 
seated  in  hot  climates  ;  and  in  all  of  them  the  rate  of  wages  was 
very  low,  and  therefore  the  condition  of  the  laboring  classes 
very  depressed.  In  Europe,  for  the  first  time,  civilization  arose 

1  Cabanis  (Rapports  du  Physique  et  du  Moral,  p.  313)  says,  "  Dans  les  temps 
et  dans  les  pays  froids  on  mange  et  Ton  agit  davantage."  That  much  food  is  eaten 
in  cold  countries,  and  little  in  hot  ones,  is  mentioned  by  numerous  travelers,  none 
of  whom  are  aware  of  the  cause.  See  Simpson's  Discoveries  on  the  North  Coast  of 
America,  p.  218;  Custine,  Russie,  Vol.  IV,  p.  66;  Wrangel's  Expedition,  pp.  21, 
327;  Crantz'  History  of  Greenland,  Vol.  I,  pp.  145,360;  Richardson's  Central 
Africa,  Vol.  II,  p.  46;  Richardson's  Sahara,  Vol.  I,  p.  137;  Denham's  Africa, 
p.  37;  Journal'of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  V,  p.  144;  Vol.'VIII,  p.  188;  Burckhardt's 
Travels  in  Arabia,  Vol.  II,  p.  265;  Niebuhr,  Description  de  1' Arabic,  p.  45; 
Ulloa's  Voyage  to  South  America,  Vol.  I,  pp.  403,  408 ;  Journal  of  Geographical 
Society,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  283;  Vol.  VI,  p.  85;  Vol.  XIX,' p.  121  ;  Spix  and  Martius' 
Travels  in  Brazil,  Vol.  I,  p.  164;  Southey's  History  of  Brazil,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  848; 
Volney,  Voyage  en  Syrie  et  en  figypte,  Vol.  I,  pp.  379,  380,  460 ;  Low's  Sarawak, 
p.  140. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      197 

in  a  colder  climate  ;  hence  the  reward  of  labor  was  increased, 
and  the  distribution  of  wealth  rendered  more  equal  than  was 
possible  in  countries  where  an  excessive  abundance  of  food 
stimulated  the  growth  of  population.  This  difference  produced, 
as  we  shall  presently  see,  many  social  and  political  consequences 
of  immense  importance.  But  before  discussing  them,  it  may  be 
remarked  that  the  only  apparent  exception  to  what  has  been 
stated  is  one  which  strikingly  verifies  the  general  law.  There  is 
one  instance,  and  only  one,  of  a  great  European  people  possessing 
a  very  cheap  national  food.  This  people,  I  need  hardly  say,  is 
the  Irish.  In  Ireland  the  laboring  classes  have  for  more  than 
two  hundred  years  been  principally  fed  by  potatoes,  which  were 
introduced  into  their  country  late  in  the  sixteenth,  or  early  in 
the  seventeeth,  century.1  Now  the  peculiarity  of  the  potato  is, 
that  until  the  appearance  of  the  late  disease  it  was,  and  perhaps 
still  is,  cheaper  than  any  other  food  equally  wholesome.  If  we 
compare  its  reproductive  power  with  the  amount  of  nutriment 
contained  in  it,  we  find  that  one  acre  of  average  land  sown  with 
potatoes  will  support  twice  as  many  persons  as  the  same  quantity 
of  land  sown  with  wheat.2  The  consequence  is,  that  in  a  country 
where  men  live  on  potatoes  the  population  will,  if  other  things 
are  tolerably  equal,  increase  twice  as  fast  as  in  a  country  where 
they  live  on  wheat.  And  so  it  has  actually  occurred.  Until  a 

1  Meyen  (Geography  of  Plants,  1846,  p.  313)  says  that  the  potato  was  intro- 
duced into  Ireland  in  1586;  but  according  to  Mr.  M'Culloch  (Dictionary  of  Com- 
merce, 1849,  p.  1048),  "potatoes,  it  is  commonly  thought,  were  not  introduced 
into  Ireland  till  1610,  when  a  small  quantity  was  sent  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  to 
be  planted  in  a  garden  on  his  estate  in  the  vicinity  of  Youghal."    Compare  Lou- 
don's  Encyclopaedia  of  Agriculture,  p.  845  :  "first  planted  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
on  his  estate  of  Youghal,  near  Cork." 

2  Adam  Smith  (Wealth  of  Nations,  Book  I,  chap,  xi,  p.  67)  supposes  that  it 
will  support  three  times  as  many ;  but  the  statistics  of  this  great  writer  are  the 
weakest  part  of  his  work,  and  the  more  careful  calculations  made  since  he  wrote 
bear  out  the  statement  in  the  text.    "  It  admits  of  demonstration  that  an  acre  of 
potatoes  will  feed  double  the  number  of  people  that  can  be  fed  from  an  acre 
of  wheat"  (Loudon's  Encyclopaedia  of  Agriculture,  5th  ed.,  1844,  p.  845).     So, 
too,  in  M'Culloch's  Dictionary,  p.  1048,  "an  acre  of  potatoes  will  feed  double  the 
number  of  individuals  that  can  be  fed  from  an  acre  of  wheat."    The  daily  average 
consumption  of  an  able-bodied  laborer  in  Ireland  is  estimated  at  nine  and  a  half 
pounds  of  potatoes  for  men  and  seven  and  a  half  for  women.    See  Phillips  on 
Scrofula,  1846,  p.  177. 


198  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

very  few  years  ago,  when  the  face  of  affairs  was  entirely  altered 
by  pestilence  and  emigration,  the  population  of  Ireland  was,  in 
round  numbers,  increasing  annually  three  per  cent ;  the  popula- 
tion of  England  during  the  same  period  increasing  one  and  a  half 
per  cent.1  The  result  was  that  in  these  two  countries  the  dis- 
tribution of  wealth  was  altogether  different.  Even  in  England 
the  growth  of  population  is  somewhat  too  rapid;  and  the  labor 
market  being  overstocked,  the  working  classes  are  not  sufficiently 
paid  for  their  labor.2  But  their  condition  is  one  of  sumptuous 
splendor  compared  to  that  in  which  only  a  few  years  ago  the 
Irish  were  forced  to  live.  The  misery  in  which  they  were  plunged 
has  no  doubt  always  been  aggravated  by  the  ignorance  of  their 
rulers,  and  by  that  scandalous  misgovernment  which,  until  very 
recently,  formed  one  of  the  darkest  blots  on  the  glory  of  England. 
The  most  active  cause,  however,  was  that  their  wages  were  so 
low  as  to  debar  them,  not  only  from  the  comforts  but  from  the 
common  decencies  of  civilized  life;  and  this  evil  condition  was 
the  natural  result  of  that  cheap  and  abundant  food,  which  en- 
couraged the  people  to  so  rapid  an  increase  that  the  labor 
market  was  constantly  gorged.3  So  far  was  this  carried  that  an 
intelligent  observer  who  traveled  through  Ireland  twenty  years 
ago  mentions  that  at  that  time  the  average  wages  were  fourpence 
a  day ;  and  that  even  this  wretched  pittance  could  not  always  be 
relied  upon  for  regular  employment.4 

1  Malthus'  Essay  on  Population,  Vol.   I,  pp.  424,  425,  431,  435,  441,  442; 
M'Culloch's  Political  Economy,  pp.  381,  382. 

2  The  lowest  agricultural  wages  in  our  time  have  been  in  England  about  i  s.  a 
day;  while  from  the  evidence  collected  by  Mr.  Thornton  in   1845,  tne  highest 
wages  then  paid  were  in  Lincolnshire,  and  were  rather  more  than   13^.  a  week; 
those   in  Yorkshire  and  Northumberland  being  nearly  as    high  (Thornton    on 
Over-Population,  pp.  12-15,  24»  25)-    Godwin,  writing  in  1820,  estimates  the  aver- 
age at  i  s.  6d.  a  day  (Godwin  on  Population,  p.  573).    Mr.  Phillips,  in  his  work  on 
Scrofula,  1846,  p.  345,  says,  "At  present  the  ratio  of  wages  is  from  9  s.  to  IQJ." 

8  The  most  miserable  part,  namely  Connaught,  in  1733  contained  242,160 
inhabitants;  and  in  1821,  1,110,229.  See  Sadler's  Law  of  Population,  Vol.  II, 
p.  490. 

*  Mr.  Inglis,  who  in  1834  traveled  through  Ireland  with  a  particular  view  to  its 
economical  state,  says,  as  the  result  'of  very  careful  inquiries,  "  I  am  quite  con- 
fident that  if  the  whole  yearly  earnings  of  the  laborers  of  Ireland  were  divided  by 
the  whole  number  of  laborers,  the  result  would  be  under  this  sum  — fourpence  a 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      199 

Such  have  been  the  consequences  of  cheap  food  in  a  country 
which,  on  the  whole,  possesses  greater  natural  resources  than 
any  other  in  Europe.1  And  if  we  investigate  on  a  larger  scale  the 
social  and  economical  conditions  of  nations,  we  shall  see  the  same 
principle  everywhere  at  work.  We  shall  see  that,  other  things  n 
remaining  equal,  the  food  of  a  people  determines  the  increase 
of  their  numbers,  and  the  increase  of  their  numbers  determines 
the  rate  of  their  wages.  We  shall  moreover  find  that  when  the 
wages  are  invariably  low,2  the  distribution  of  wealth  being  thus 
very  unequal,  the  distribution  of  political  power  and  social  influ- 
ence will  also  be  very  unequal ;  in  other  words,  it  will  appear 
that  the  normal  and  average  relation  between  the  upper  and 
lower  classes  will,  in  its  origin,  depend  upon  those  peculiarities  of 


day  for  the  laborers  of  Ireland"  (Inglis*  Journey  throughout  Ireland  in  1834, 
London,  1835,  2d  ed.  Vol.  II,  p.  300).  At  Balinasloe,  in  the  county  of  Galway,  "A 
gentleman  with  whom  I  was  accidentally  in  company  offered  to  procure,  on  an 
hour's  warning,  a  couple  of  hundred  laborers  at  fourpence  even  for  temporary 
employment  "  (Inglis,  Vol.  II,  p.  17).  The  same  writer  says  (Vol.  I,  p.  263),  that 
at  Tralee  "  it  often  happens  that  the  laborers,  after  working  in  the  canal  from 
five  in  the  morning  until  eleven  in  the  forenoon,  are  discharged  for  the  day  with 
the  pittance  of  twopence."  Compare,  in  Cloncurry's  Recollections,  Dublin,  1849, 
p.  310,  a  letter  from  Dr.  Doyle  written  in  1829,  describing  Ireland  as  "a  country 
where  the  market  is  always  overstocked  with  labor,  and  in  which  a  man's  labor  is 
not  worth,  at  an  average,  more  than  threepence  a  day." 

1  It  is  singular  that  so  acute  a  thinker  as  Mr.  Kay  should,  in  his  Otherwise  just 
remarks  on  the  Irish,  entirely  overlook  the  effect  produced  on  their  wages  by  the 
increase  of  population  (Kay's  Social  Condition  of  the  People,  Vol.  I,  pp.  8,  9,  92, 
223,  306-324).    This  is  the  more  observable  because  the  disadvantages  of  cheap 
food  have  been  noticed  not  only  by  several  common  writers  but  by  the  highest 
of  all  authorities  on  population,  Mr.  Malthus :  see  the  sixth  edition  of  his  Essay 
on  Population,  Vol.  I,  p.  469 ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  123,  124,  383,  384.    If  these  things  were 
oftener  considered,  we  should  not  hear  so  much  about  the  idleness  and  levity  of 
the  Celtic  race  ;    the  simple  fact  being  that  the  Irish  are  unwilling  to  work,  not 
because  they  are  Celts  but  because  their  work  is  badly  paid.    When  they  go 
abroad  they  get  good  wages,  and  therefore  they  become  as  industrious  as  any 
other  people.    Compare  Journal  of  Statistical  Society,  Vol.  VII,  p.  24,  with  Thorn- 
ton on  Over-Population,  p.  425;   a  very  valuable  work.    Even  in   1799  it  was 
observed  that  the  Irish  as  soon  as  they  left  their  own  country  became  industrious 
and  energetic.    See  Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  XXXIV,  p.  222.    So,  too,  in  North 
America,  "  they  are  most  willing  to  work  hard  "  (Lyell's  Second  Visit  to   the 
United  States,  1849,  Vol.  I,  p.  187). 

2  By  low  wages  I  mean  low  reward  of  labor,  which  is  of  course  independent 
both  of  the  cost  of  labor  and  of  the  money  rate  of  wages. 


200  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

nature,  the  operations  of  which  I  have  endeavored  to  indicate.1 
After  putting  all  these  things  together,  -we  shall,  I  trust,  be  able 
to  discern,  with  a  clearness  hitherto  unknown,  the  intimate  con- 
nection between  the  physical  and  moral  world  ;  the  laws  by  which 
that  connection  is  governed ;  and  the  reasons  why  so  many  ancient 
civilizations  reached  a  certain  stage  of  development,  and  then 
fell  away,  unable  to  resist  the  pressure  of  nature,  or  make  head 
against  those  external  obstacles  by  which  their  progress  was 
effectually  retarded. 

If,  in  the  first  place,  we  turn  to  Asia,  we  shall  see  an  admirable 
illustration  of  what  may  be  called  the  collision  between  internal 
and  external  phenomena.  Owing  to  circumstances  already  stated, 
Asiatic  civilization  has  always  been  confined  to  that  rich  tract 
where  alone  wealth  could  be  easily  obtained.  This  immense 
zone  comprises  some  of  the  most  fertile  parts  of  the  globe ;  and 

1  In  a  recent  work  of  considerable  ingenuity  (Doubleday's  True  Law  of  Popu- 
lation, 1847,  pp.  25-29,  69,  78,  123,  124,  etc.)  it  is  noticed  that  countries  are  more 
populous  when  the  ordinary  food  is  vegetable  than  when  it  is  animal ;  and  an 
attempt  is  made  to  explain  this  on  the  ground  that  a  poor  diet  is  more  favorable 
to  fecundity  than  a  rich  one.  But  though  the  fact  of  the  greater  increase  of  popu- 
lation is  indisputable,  there  are  several  reasons  for  being  dissatisfied  with  Mr. 
Doubleday's  explanation. 

First.  That  the  power  of  propagation  is  heightened  by  poor  living  is  a  propo- 
sition which  has  never  been  established  physiologically ;  while  the  observations 
of  travelers  and  of  governments  are  not  sufficiently  numerous  to  establish  it 
statistically. 

Second.  Vegetable  diet  is  as  generous  for  a  hot  country  as  animal  diet  is  for  a 
cold  country  ;  and  since  we  know  that,  notwithstanding  the  difference  of  food  and 
climate,  the  temperature  of  the  body  varies  little  between  the  equator  and  the 
poles  (compare  Liebig's  Animal  Chemistry,  p.  19 ;  Holland's  Medical  Notes, 
p.  473;  Pouillet,  Elements  de  Physique,  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  p.  414;  Burdach,  Traite 
de  Physiologic,  Vol.  IX,  p.  663),  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  there  is  any 
other  normal  variation,  but  should  rather  suppose  that,  in  regard  to  all  essential 
functions,  vegetable  diet  and  external  heat  are  equivalent  to  animal  diet  and 
external  cold. 

Third.  Even  conceding,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  vegetable  food  increases 
the  procreative  power,  this  would  only  affect  the  number  of  births,  and  not  the 
density  of  population  ;  for  a  greater  number  of  births  may  be,  and  often  is, 
remedied  by  a  greater  mortality ;  a  point  in  regard  to  which  Godwin,  in  trying  to 
refute  Malthus,  falls  into  serious  error  (Godwin  on  Population,  p.  317). 

Since  writing  the  above  I  have  found  that  these  views  of  Mr.  Doubleday's 
were  in  a  great  measure  anticipated  by  Fourier.  See  Rey,  Science  Sociale,  Vol.  I, 
p.  185. 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      20 1 

of  all  its  provinces,  Hindustan  is  certainly  the  one  which  for  the 
longest  period  has  possessed  the  greatest  civilization.1  And  as 
the  materials  for  forming  an  opinion  respecting  India  are  more 
ample  than  those  respecting  any  other  part  of  Asia,2  I  purpose 
to  select  it  as  an  example,  and  use  it  to  illustrate  those  laws 
which,  though  generalized  from  political  economy,  chemistry,  and 
physiology,  may  be  verified  by  that  more  extensive  survey  the 
means  of  which  history  alone  can  supply. 

In  India  the  great  heat  of  the  climate  brings  into  play  that 
law,  already  pointed  out,  by  virtue  of  which  the  ordinary  food  is 
of  an  oxygenous  rather  than  of  a  carbonaceous  character.  This, 
according  to  another  law,  obliges  the  people  to  derive  their  usual 
diet  not  from  the  animal  but  from  the  vegetable  world,  of  which 
starch  is  the  most  important  constituent.  At  the  same  time  the 
high  temperature,  incapacitating  men  for  arduous  labor,  makes 
necessary  a  food  of  which  the  returns  will  be  abundant,  and 
which  will  contain  much  nutriment  in  a  comparatively  small 
space.  Here,  then,  we  have  some  characteristics,  which,  if  the 
preceding  views  are  correct,  ought  to  be  found  in  the  ordinary 
food  of  the  Indian  nations.  So  they  all  are.  From  the  earliest 
period  the  most  general  food  in  India  has  been  rice,3  which  is  the 

1  I  use  the  word  "  Hindustan  "  in  the  popular  sense,  as  extending  south  to  Cape 
Comorin,  though,  properly  speaking,  it  only  includes  the  country  north  of  the 
Nerbudda.    Compare  Mill's  History  of  India,  Vol.  II,  p.  178;  Bohlen,  Das  alte 
Indien,  Vol.  I,  p.  1 1 ;  Meiners,  Uber  die  Lander  in  Asien,  Vol.  I,  p.  224.    The  word 
itself  is  not  found  in  the  old  Sanskrit,  and  is  of  Persian  origin.    Halhed's  Preface 
to  the  Gentoo  Laws,  pp.  xx,  xxi;  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  368,  369. 

2  So  that,  in  addition  to  works  published  on  their  philosophy,  religion,  and 
jurisprudence,  a  learned  geographer  stated  several  years  ago,  that  "kein  anderes 
asiatisches  Reich    ist   in  den  letzten  drei  Jahrhunderten  von  so  vielen  und  so 
einsichtsvollen  Europaern  durchreist  und  beschrieben  worden,  als  Hindostan  " 
(Meiners,  Lander  in  Asien,  Vol.  I,  p.  225).  Since  the  time  of  Meiners  such  evidence 
has  become  still  more  precise  and  extensive,  and  is,  I  think,  too  much  neglected 
by  M.  Rhode  in  his  valuable  work  on  India.    "  Dem  Zwecke  dieser  Arbeit  gemass, 
betrachten  wir  hier  nur  Werke  der  Hindus  .selbst,  oder  Ausziige  aus  denselben  als 
Quellen  "  (Rhode,  Die  Religiose  Bildung  der  Hindus,  Vol.  I,  p.  43). 

3  This  is  evident  from  the  frequent  and  familiar  mention  of  it  in  that  remark- 
able relic  of  antiquity,  the  Institutes  of  Manu.    See  the  Institutes,  in  Works  of 
Sir  W.  Jones,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  87,  132,  156,  200,  215,  366,  400,  403,  434.    Thus,  too, 
in  the  enumeration  of  foods  in  Vishnu  Purana,  pp.  46,  47,  rice  is  the  first  men- 
tioned.   See  further  evidence  in  Bohlen,  Das  alte  Indien,  Vol.  I,  p.  22;  Vol.  II, 


202  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

most  nutritive  of  all  the  cerealia ; l  which  contains  an  enormous 
proportion  of  starch  ; 2  and  which  yields  to  the  laborer  an  aver- 
age return  of  at  least  sixty  fold.3 

Thus  possible  is  it,  by  the  application  of  a  few  physical  laws, 
to  anticipate  what  the  national  food  of  a  country  will  be,  and 
therefore  to  anticipate  a  long  train  of  ulterior  consequences. 
What  in  this  case  is  no  less  remarkable  is  that  though,  in 
the  south  of  the  peninsula,  rice  is  not  so  much  used  as  for- 
merly, it  'has  been  replaced  not  by  animal  food  but  by  another 
grain  called  ragi.4  The  original  rice,  however,  is  so  suited  to 
the  circumstances  I  have  described  that  it  is  still  the  most 
general  food  of  nearly  all  the  hottest  countries  of  Asia,5  from 

pp.  159,  160;  Wilson's  Theatre  of  the  Hindus,  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  pp.  15,  16,  37,  92, 
95  ;  Vol.  II,  Part  II,  p.  35,  Part  III,  p.  64  ;•"  Notes  on  the  Mahabharata,"  in  Journal 
of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  VII,  p.  141  ;  Travels  of  Ibn  Batuta  in  Fourteenth  Century, 
p.  164;  Colebrooke's  Digest  of  Hindu  Law,  Vol.  I,  p.  499;  Vol.  II,  pp.  44,  48, 
436,  569;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  ii,  148,  205-207,  266,  364,  530;  Asiatic  Researches, 
Vol.  VII,  pp.  299,  302 ;  Ward  on  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  I,  p.  209;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  105. 

1  "  It  contains  a  greater  proportion  of  nutritious  matter  than  any  of  the  cerealia  " 
(Somerville's  Physical  Geography,  Vol.  II,  p.  202). 

2  It  contains  from  83.8  to  85.07  per  cent  of  starch.     Brande's  Chemistry, 
Vol.  II,  p.  1624  ;  Thomson's  Chemistry  of  Organic  Bodies,  p.  883. 

8  It  is  difficult  to  collect  sufficient  evidence  to  strike  an  average ;  but  in  Egypt, 
according  to  Savary,  rice  "produces  eighty  bushels  for  one  "  (Loudon's  Encyclo- 
paedia of  Agriculture,  p.  173).  In  Tenasserim  the  yield  is  from  eighty  to  one  hun- 
dred (Low's  History  of  Tenasserim,  in  Journal  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  29). 
In  South  America,  two  hundred  and  fifty  fold,  according  to  Spix  and  Martius 
(Travels  in  Brazil,  Vol.  II,  p.  79);  or  from  two  hundred  to  three  hundred,  accord- 
ing to  Southey  (History  of  Brazil,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  658,  806).  The  lowest  estimate 
given  by  M.  Meyen  is  forty  fold ;  the  highest,  which  is  marsh  rice  in  the  Philippine 
Islands,  four  hundred  fold  (Meyen's  Geography  of  Plants,  1846,  p.  301). 

4  Elphinstone's  History  of  India,  p.  7.  Ragi  is  the  Cynosnriis  Coracanus  of 
Linnaeus ;  and,  considering  its  importance,  it  has  been  strangely  neglected  by 
botanical  writers. 

The  best  account  I  have  seen  of  it  is  in  Buchanan's  Journey  through  the 
Countries  of  Mysore,  Canara,  and  Malabar,  Vol.  I,  pp.  100-104,  285,  286,  375, 
376,  403  ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  103,  104 ;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  239,  240,  296,  297.  In  the  large  cities, 
millet  is  generally  used,  of  which  "a  quantity  sufficient  for  two  meals  may  be 
purchased  for  about  a  half-penny"  (Gibson  on  Indian  Agriculture,  in  Journal 
of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  100). 

6  Marsden's  History  of  Sumatra,  pp.  56,  59 ;  Raffles'  History  of  Java,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  39,  106,  119,  129,  240;  Percival's  Ceylon,  pp.  337,  364;  Transactions  of  Society 
of  Bombay,  Vol.  1 1,  p.  1 5  5  ;  Transactions  of  the  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  I,  p.  5 1  o  ;  Journal 
of  Asiatic  Society,.  Vol.  I,  pp.  228,  247  ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  44,  64,  251,  257,  262,  336,  344; 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      203 

which  at  different  times  it  has  been  transplanted  to  other  parts 
of  the  world.1 

In  consequence  of  these  peculiarities  of  climate  and  of  food,x 
there  has  arisen  in  India  that  unequal  distribution  of  wealth 
which  we  must  expect  to  find  in  countries  where  the  labor 
market  is  always  redundant.2  If  we  examine  the  earliest  Indian 
records  which  have  been  preserved,  —  records  between  two  and 
three  thousand  years  old,  —  we  find  evidence  of  a  state  of  things 
similar  to  that  which  now  exists,  and  which,  we  may  rely  upon 
it,  always  has  existed  ever  since  the  accumulation  of  capital  once 
fairly  began.  We  find  the  upper  classes  enormously  rich,  and  the 
lower  classes  miserably  poor.  We  find  those  by  whose  labor 
the  wealth  is  created  receiving  the  smallest  possible  share  of  it, 
the  remainder  being  absorbed  by  the  higher  ranks  in  the  form 
either  of  rent  or  of  profit.  And  as  wealth  is,  after  intellect,  the 
most  permanent  source  of  power,  it  has  naturally  happened  that 


Vol.  Ill,  pp.  8,  25,  300,  340;  Vol.  IV,  pp.  82,  83,  104;  Vol.  V,  pp.  241,  246; 
Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  V,  pp.  124,  229;  Vol.  XII,  p.  148;  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  171, 
172;  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  86;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  124,  295,  300; 
Vol.  V,p.  263;  Vol.  VIII,  pp.  341,  359;  Vol.  XIX,  pp.  132,  137. 

1  Rice,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  trace  it,  has  traveled  westward.    Besides 
the  historical  evidence,  there  are  philological  probabilities  in  favor  of  its  being 
indigenous  to  Asia,  and  the  Sanskrit  name  for  it  has  been  very  widely  diffused. 
Compare  Humboldt's  Cosmos,  Vol.  II,  p.  472,  with  Craufurd's  History  of  the 
Indian  Archipelago,  Vol.  I,  p.  358.    In  the  fourteenth  century  it  was  the  common 
food  on  the  Zanguebar  coast,  and  is  now  universal  in  Madagascar.    Travels  of 
Ibn  Batuta  in  Fourteenth  Century,  p.  56;  Ellis'  History  of  Madagascar,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  39,  297-304;  Vol.  II,  p.  292  ;  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  212. 
From  Madagascar  its  seeds  were,  according  to  M'Culloch's  Dictionary  of  Com- 
merce, p.  1105,  carried  to  Carolina  late  in  the  seventeenth  century.    It  is  now 
cultivated  in  Nicaragua  (Squier's  Central  America,  Vol.  I,  p.  38)  and  in  South 
America  (Henderson's  History  of  Brazil,  pp.  292,  307,  395,  440,  488),  where  it  is  said 
to  grow  wild.    Compare  Meyen's  Geography  of  Plants,  pp.  291,  297,  with  Azara, 
Voyages  dans  1'Amerique  Meridionale,  Vol.  I,  p.  100;  Vol.  II,  p.  80.    The  ancient 
Greeks,  though  acquainted  with  rice,  did  not  cultivate  it ;  and  its  cultivation  was 
first  introduced  into  Europe  by  the  Arabs.    See  Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  409,  410. 

2  So  far  as  food  is  concerned,  Diodorus  Siculus  notices  the  remarkable  fertility 
of  India,  and  the  consequent  accumulation  of  wealth.    See  two  interesting  pas- 
sages in  Bibliothec.  Hist.,  Lib.  II,  Vol.  II,  pp.  49,  50,  108,  109.    But  of  the  eco- 
nomical laws   of   distribution,   he,    like   all   the   ancient    writers,  was   perfectly 
ignorant. 


204  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

a  great  inequality  of  wealth  has  been  accompanied  by  a  corre- 
sponding inequality  of  social  and  political  power.  It  is  not, 
therefore,  surprising  that  from  the  earliest  period  to  which  our 
knowledge  of  India  extends,  an  immense  majority  of  the  people, 
pinched  by  the  most  galling  poverty,  and  just  living  from  hand 
to  mouth,  should  always  have  remained  in  a  state  of  stupid 
debasement,  broken  by  incessant  misfortune,  crouching  before 
their  superiors  in  abject  submission,  and  only  fit  either  to  be 
slaves  themselves  or  to  be  led  to  battle  to  make  slaves  of  others.1 
To  ascertain  the  precise  value  of  the  average  rate  of  wages  in 
India  for  any  long  period  is  impossible  ;  because,  although  the 
amount  might  be  expressed  in  money,  still  the  value  of  money, 
that  is,  its  purchasing  power,  is  subject  to  incalculable  fluctua- 
tions, arising  from  changes  in  the  cost  of  production.2  But,  for 
our  present  purpose,  there  is  a  method  of  investigation  which  will 
lead  to  results  far  more  accurate  than  any  statement  could  be 
that  depended  merely  on  a  collection  of  evidence  respecting  the 
wages  themselves.  The  method  is  simply  this  :  that  inasmuch  as 
the  wealth  of  a  country  can  only  be  divided  into  wages,  rent, 
profits,  and  interest,  and  inasmuch  as  interest  is  on  an  average  an 
exact  measure  of  profits,3  it  follows  that  if  among  any  people  rent 
and  interest  are  both  high  wages  must  be  low.4  If,  therefore,  we 

1  An  able  and  very  learned  apologist  for  this  miserable  people  says :  "  The  ser- 
vility so  generally  ascribed  to  the  Hindu  is  never  more  conspicuous  than  when  he 
is  examined  as  an  evidence.    But  if  it  be  admitted  that  he  acts  as  a  slave,  why 
blame  him  for  not  possessing  the  virtues  of  a  free  man?    The  oppression  of  ages 
has  taught  him  implicit  submission  "  (Vans  Kennedy,  in    Transactions  of  Society 
of  Bombay,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  144).    Compare  the  observations  of  Charles  Hamilton  in 
Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  I,  p.  305. 

2  The  impossibility  of  having  a  standard  of  value  is  clearly  pointed  out  in  Tur- 
got,   Reflexions  sur  la  Formation  et  la  Distribution  des  Richesses,  in  CEuvres, 
Vol.  V,  pp.  51,  52.     Compare  Ricardo's  Works,  pp.  n,  28-30,  46,  166,  253,  270, 
401,  with  M'Culloch's  Principles  of  Political  Economy,  pp.  298,  299,  307. 

8  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations,  Book  I,  chap,  ix,  p.  37  ;  where,  however,  the 
proposition  is  stated  rather  too  absolutely,  since  the  risks  arising  from  an  insecure 
state  of  society  must  be  taken  into  consideration.  But  that  there  is  an  average 
ratio  between  interest  and  profits  is  obvious,  and  is  distinctly  laid  down  by  the 
Sanskrit  jurists.  See  Colebrooke's  Digest  of  Hindu  Law,  Vol.  I,  pp.  72,  81. 

4  Ricardo  (Principles  of  Political  Economy,  chap,  vi,  in  Works,  p.  65)  says, 
"  Whatever  increases  wages,  necessarily  reduces  profits."  And  in  chap,  xv,  p.  122, 
"  Whatever  raises  the  wages  of  labor,  lowers  the  profits  of  stock."  In  several 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      205 

can  ascertain  the  current  interest  of  money,  and  the  proportion 
of  the  produce  of  the  soil  which  is  absorbed  by  rent,  we  shall  get 
a  perfectly  accurate  idea  of  the  wages  ;  because  wages  are  the 
residue,  —  that  is,  they  are  what  is  left  to  the  laborers  after  rent, 
profits,  and  interest  have  been  paid. 

Now  it  is  remarkable  that  in  India  both  interest  and  rent 
have  always  been  very  high.  In  the  Institutes  of  Manu,  which 
were  drawn  up  about  900  B.C.,1  the  lowest  legal  interest  for  money 
is  fixed  at  fifteen  per  cent,  the  highest  at  sixty  per  cent.2  Nor 
is  this  to  be  considered  as  a  mere  ancient  law  now  fallen  into 
disuse.  So  far  from  that,  the  Institutes  of  Manu  are  still  the 
basis  of  Indian  jurisprudence;3  and  we  know  on  very  good 
authority  that  in  1810  the  interest  paid  for  the  use  of  money 
varied  from  thirty-six  to  sixty  per  cent.4 

other  places  he  makes  the  same  assertion,  very  much  to  the  discomfort  of  the 
ordinary  reader,  who  knows  that  in  the  United  States,  for  instance,  wages  and 
profits  are  both  high.  .But  the  ambiguity  is  in  the  language,  not  in  the  thought; 
and  in  these  and  similar  passages  Ricardo  by  wages  meant  cost  of  labor,  in  which 
sense  the  proposition  is  quite  accurate.  If  by  wages  we  mean  the  reward  of 
labor,  then  there  is  no  relation  between  wages  and  profits ;  for  when  rent  is  low 
both  of  them  may  be  high,  as  is  the  case  in  the  United  States.  That  this  was  the 
view  of  Ricardo  is  evident  from  the  following  passage :  "  Profits,  it  cannot  be  too 
often  repeated,  depend  on  wages;  not  on  nominal  but  real  wages;  not  on  the 
number  of  pounds  that  may  be  annually  paid  to  the  laborer  but  on  the  number 
of  days'  work  necessary  to  obtain  those  pounds"  (Political  Economy,  chap,  vii, 
Ricardo's  Works,  p.  82).  Compare  Mill's  Principles  of  Political  Economy,  Vol.  I, 
p.  509 ;  Vol.  II,  p.  225. 

1  I  take  the  estimate  of  Mr.  Elphinstone  (History  of  India,  pp.  225-228)  as  mid- 
way between  Sir  William  Jones  (Works,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  56)  and  Mr.  Wilson  (Rig 
Veda  Sanhita,  Vol.  I,  p.  xlvii). 

2  Institutes  of  Manu,  chap,  viii,  sees.  140-142,  in  Works  of  Sir  W.  Jones, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  295.  The  subsequent  Sanskrit  commentators  recognize  nearly  the 
same  rate  of  interest,  the  minimum  being  fifteen  per  cent  See  Colebrooke's 
Digest  of  Hindu  Law,  Vol.  I,  pp.  29,  36,  43,  98,  99,  237  ;  Vol.  II,  p.  70. 

8  In  Colebrooke's  Digest,  Vol.  I,  p.  454,  and  Vol.  Ill,  p.  229,  Manu  is  called 
"the  highest  authority  of  memorial  law  "and  "the  founder  of  memorial  law." 
The  most  recent  historian  of  India,  Mr.  Elphinstone,  says  (History  of  India,  p.  83), 
"The  code  of  Menu  is  still  the  basis  of  the  Hindu  jurisprudence  ;  and  the  prin- 
cipal features  remain  unaltered  to  the  present  day."  This  remarkable  code  is  also 
the  basis  of  the  laws  of  the  Burmese,  and  even  of  those  of  the  Laos  (Journal  of 
the  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  271  ;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  28,  296,  332  ;  Vol.  V,  p.  252). 

4  See,  in  Mill's  History  of  India,  Vol.  I,  p.  317,  the  report  of  a  committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons  in  1810,  in  which  it  is  stated  that  the  ryots  paid  "the 


206  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Thus  much  as  to  one  of  the  elements  of  our  present  calculation. 
As  to  the  other  element,  namely,  the  rent,  we  have  information 
equally  precise  and  trustworthy.  In  England  and  Scotland  the 
rent  paid  by  the  cultivator  for  the  use  of  land  is  estimated  in 
round  numbers,  taking  one  farm  with  another,  at  a  fourth  of  the 
gross  produce.1  In  France  the  average  proportion  is  about  a 
third  ; 2  while  in  the  United  States  of  North  America  it  is  well 
known  to  be  much  less,  and,  indeed,  in  some  parts,  to  be  merely 
nominal.3  But  in  India  the  legal  rent,  that  is,  the  lowest  rate 
recognized  by  the  law  and  usage  of  the  country,  is  one  half  of 
the  produce  ;  and  even  this  cruel  regulation  is  not  strictly 
enforced,  since  in  many  cases  rents  are  raised  so  high  that  the 
cultivator  not  only  receives  less  than  half  the  produce  but 
receives  so  little  as  to  have  scarcely  the  means  of  providing 
seed  to  sow  the  ground  for  the  next  harvest.4 

The  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  these  facts  is  manifest.  Rent 
and  interest  being  always  very  high,  and  interest  varying,  as  it 

heavy  interest  of  three,  four,  and  five  per  cent  per  month."  Ward,  writing  about 
the  same  time,  mentions  as  much  as  seventy-five  per  cent  being  given,  and  this 
apparently  without  the  lender  incurring  any  extraordinary  risk  (Ward's  View 
of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  II,  p.  190). 

1  Compare  the  table  in  Loudon's  Encyclopaedia  of  Agriculture,  p.  778,  with 
Mavor's  note  in  Tusser's  Five  Hundred  Points  of  Husbandry,  p.  195,  London,  1812, 
and  M'Culloch's  Statistical  Account  of  the  British  Empire,  1847,  Vol.  I,  p.  560. 

8  This  is  the  estimate  I  have  received  from  persons  well  acquainted  with 
French  agriculture.  The  rent,  of  course,  varies  in  each  separate  instance,  accord- 
ing to  the  natural  powers  of  the  soil,  according  to  the  extent  to  which  those 
powers  have  been  improved,  and  according  to  the  facilities  for  bringing  the 
produce  to  market.  But,  notwithstanding  these  variations,  there  must  be  in  every 
country  an  average  rent,  depending  upon  the  operation  of  general  causes. 

3  Owing  to  the  immense  supply  of  land  preventing  the  necessity  of  cultivating 
those  inferior  soils  which  older  countries  are  glad  to  use,  and  are  therefore  willing 
to  pay  a  rent  for  the  right  of  using,  in  the  United  States  profits  and  wages  (i.e. 
the  reward  of  the  laborer,  not  the  cost  of  labor)  are  both  high,  which  would  be 
impossible  if  rent  were  also  high. 

*  See  Rammohun  Roy  on  the  Judicial  and  Revenue  Systems  of  India,  1832, 
pp.  59-61,  63,  69,  92,  94.  At  page  69  this  high  authority  says  of  the  agricultural 
peasantry  of  Bengal :  "  In  an  abundant  season,  when  the  price  of  corn  is  low,  the 
sale  of  their  whole  crops  is  required  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  landholder, 
leaving  little  or  nothing  for  seed  or  subsistence  to  the  laborer  or  his  family."  In 
Cashmere  the  sovereign  received  half  the  produce  of  the  rice  crop,  leaving  the 
other  half  to  the  cultivator  (Moorcroft's  Notices  of  Cashmere,  in  Journal  of 
Geographical  Society r,  Vol.  II,  p.  266). 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY   PHYSICAL  LAWS      207 

must  do,  according  to  the  rate  of  profits,  it  is  evident  that  wages 
must  have  been  very  low ;  for  since  there  was  in  India  a  specific 
amount  of  wealth  to  be  divided  into  rent,  interest,  profits,  and 
wages,  it  is  clear  that  the  first  three  could  only  have  been  increased 
at  the  expense  of  the  fourth  ;  which  is  saying,  in  other  words, 
that  the  reward  of  the  laborers  was  very  small  in  proportion 
to  the  reward  received  by  the  upper  classes.  And  though  this, 
being  an  inevitable  inference,  does  not  require  extraneous  support, 
it  may  be  mentioned  that  in  modern  times,  for  which  alone  we 
have  direct  evidence,  wages  have  in  India  always  been  excessively 
low,  and  the  people  have  been,  and  still  are,  obliged  to  work  for 
a  sum  barely  sufficient  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  life.1 

1  Heber  (Journey  through  India,  Vol.  I,  pp.  209,  356,  357,  359)  gives  some 
curious  instances  of  the  extremely  low  rate  at  which  the  natives  are  glad  to  work. 
As  to  the  ordinary  wages  in  India  in  the  present  century,  see  Journal  of  Asiatic 
Society,  Vol.  I,  p.  255 ;  Vol.  V,  p.  171 ;  Rammohun  Roy  on  the  Judicial  and  Revenue 
Systems,  pp.  105,  106;  Sykes'  Statistics  of  the  Deccan,  in  Reports  of  the  British 
Association,  Vol.  VI,  p.  321  ;  Ward's  View  of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  207;  Cole- 
brooke's  Digest  of  Hindu  Law,  Vol.  II,  p.  184.  On  wages  in  the  south  of  India,  the 
fullest  information  will  be  found  in  Buchanan's  valuable  work.  Journey  through  the 
Mysore,  Canara,  and  Malabar,  Vol.  I,  pp.  124,  125,  133,  171,  175,  216,  217,  298, 
390,  415 ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  12,  19,  22,  37,  90, 108,  132,  217,  218,  315,  481,  523,  525,  562  ; 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  35,  181,  226,  298,  321,  349,  363,  398,  428,  555.  I  wish  that  all 
travelers  were  equally  minute  in  recording  the  wages  of  labor,  —  a  subject  of  far 
greater  importance  than  those  with  which  they  usually  fill  their  books. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  riches  possessed  by  the  upper  classes  have,  owing  to 
this  maldistribution  of  wealth,  been  always  enormous,  and  sometimes  incredible. 
See  Forbes'  Oriental  Memoirs,  Vol.  II,  p.  297 ;  Bohlen,  Das  alte  Indien,  Vol.  II, 
p.  119;  Travels  of  Ibn  Batuta,  p.  41;  Ward's  View  of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  178.  The  autobiography  of  the  Emperor  Jehangir  contains  such  extraordinary 
statements  of  his  immense  wealth  that  the  editor,  Major  Price,  thinks  that  some 
error  must  have  been  made  by  the  copyist ;  but  the  reader  will  find  in  Grote's 
History  of  Greece  (Vol.  XII,  pp.  229,  245)  evidence  of  the  treasures  which  it  was 
possible  for  Asiatic  rulers  to  collect  in  that  state  of  society.  The  working  of  this 
unequal  distribution  is  thus  stated  by  Mr.  Glyn  (Transactions  of  the  Asiatic  Society, 
Vol.  I, p.  482) :  "The  nations  of  Europe  have  very  little  idea  of  the  actual  con- 
dition of  the  inhabitants  of  Hindustan  ;  they  are  more  wretchedly  poor  than 
we  have  any  notion  of.  Europeans  have  hitherto  been  too  apt  to  draw  their 
opinions  of  the  wealth  of  Hindustan  from  the*  gorgeous  pomp  of  a  few  emperors, 
sultans,  nawabs,  and  rajahs  ;  whereas  a  more  intimate  and  accurate  view  of  the  real 
state  of  society  would  have  shown  that  these  princes  and  nobles  were  engrossing 
all  the  wealth  of  the  country,  whilst  the  great  body  of  the  people  were  earning 
but  a  bare  subsistence,  groaning  under  intolerable  burdens,  and  hardly  able  to 
supply  themselves  with  the  necessaries  of  life,  much  less  with  its  luxuries." 


208  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

This  was  the  first  great  consequence  induced  in  India  by  the 
cheapness  and  abundance  of  the  national  food.1  But  the  evil  by 
no  means  stopped  there.  In  India,  as  in  every  other  country, 
poverty  provokes  contempt,  and  wealth  produces  power.  When 
other  things  are  equal,  it  must  be  with  classes  of  men  as  with 
individuals,  that  the  richer  they  are,  the  greater  the  influence 
they  will  possess.  It  was  therefore  to  be  expected  that  the  un- 
equal distribution  of  wealth  should  cause  an  unequal  distribution 
of  power ;  and  as  there  is  no  instance  on  record  of  any  class 
possessing  power  without  abusing  it,  we  may  easily  understand 
how  it  was  that  the  people  of  India,  condemned  to  poverty  by 
the  physical  laws  of  their  climate,  should  have  fallen  into  a 
degradation  from  which  they  have  never  been  able  to  escape. 
A  few  instances  may  be  given  to  illustrate,  rather  than  to  prove, 
a  principle  which  the  preceding  arguments  have,  I  trust,  placed 
beyond  the  possibility  of  dispute. 

To  the  great  body  of  the  Indian  people  the  name  of  Sudras 
is  given ; 2  and  the  native  laws  respecting  them  contain  some 
minute  and  curious  provisions.  If  a  member  of  this  despised 
class  presumed  to  occupy  the  same  seat  as  his  superiors,  he 
was  either  to  be  exiled  or  to  suffer  a  painful  and  ignominious 

1  Turner,  who  traveled  in  1783  through  the  northeast  of  Bengal,  says :  "  Indeed, 
the  extreme  poverty  and  wretchedness  of  these  people  will  forcibly  appear,  when 
we   recollect  how  little  is  necessary  for  the  subsistence  of  a  peasant   in  these 
regions.    The  value  of  this  can  seldom  amount  to  more  than  one  penny  per  day, 
even  allowing  him  to  make  his  meal  of  two  pounds  of  boiled  rice,  with  a  due  pro- 
portion of  salt,  oil,  vegetables,  fish,  and  chili"  (Turner's  Embassy  to  Tibet,  p.  n). 

•  Ibn  Batuta,  wrho  traveled  in  Hindustan  in  the  fourteenth  century,  says :  "  I  never 
saw  a  country  in  which  provisions  were  so  cheap  "  (Travels  of  Ibn  Batuta,  p.  194). 

2  The  Sudras  are  estimated  by  Ward  (View  of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  281) 
at  "  three  fourths  of  the  Hindoos."    At  all  events,  they  comprise  the  whole  of  the 
working  classes ;  the  Vaisyas  not  being  husbandmen,  as  they  are  often  called, 
but   landlords,    owners   of   cattle,    and   traders.    Compare    Institutes  of  Manu, 
chap,  ix,  sees.  326-333,  in  Works  of  Sir  W.  Jones,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  380,  381,  with 
Colebrooke's  Digest,  Vol.  I,  p.  15,  from  which  it  appears  that  the  Vaisyas  were 
always  the  masters,  and  that  the  Sudra  was  to  "  rely  on  agriculture  for  his  sub- 
sistence."   The  division,  therefore,  between  the  "industrious  and  the  servile" 
(Elphinstone's  History  of  India,  p.   12)  is  too  broadly  stated;  and  we  must,  I 
think,  take  the  definition  of  M.  Rhode  :  "  Die  Kaste  der  Sudras  umfasst  dieganze 
arbeitende,  oder  um  Lohn  dienende  Classe  des  Volks  "  (Die  Religiose  Bildung 
der  Hindus,  Vol.  II,  p.  561). 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      209 

punishment.1  If  he  spoke  of  them  with  contempt,  his  mouth  was 
to  be  burned  ; 2  if  he  actually  insulted  them,  his  tongue  was  to  be 
slit ; 3  if  he  molested  a  Brahmin,  he  was  to  be  put  to  death ; 4  if 
he  sat  on  the  same  carpet  with  a  Brahmin,  he  was  to  be  maimed 
for  life ; 5  if,  moved  by  the  desire  of  instruction,  he  even  listened 
to  the  reading  of  the  sacred  books,  burning  oil  was  to  be  poured 
into  his  ears  ; 6  if,  however,  he  committed  them  to  memory,  he 
was  to  be  killed  ; "  if  he  were  guilty  of  a  crime,  the  punishment 
for  it  was  greater  than  that  inflicted  on  his  superiors  ; 8  but  if  he 
himself  were  murdered,  the  penalty  was  the  same  as  for  killing 
a  dog,  a  cat,  or  a  crow.9  Should  he  marry  his  daughter  to  a 
Brahmin,  no  retribution  that  could  be  exacted  in  this  world  was 
sufficient ;  it  was  therefore  announced  that  the  Brahmin  must 
go  to  hell  for  having  suffered  contamination  from  a  woman  im- 
measurably his  inferior.10  Indeed,  it  was  ordered  that  the  mere 

1  "  Either  be  banished  with  a  mark  on  his  hinder  parts,  or  the  king  shall  cause 
a  gash  to  be  made  on  his  buttock"  (Institutes  of  Manu,  chap,  viii,  sec.  281,  in 
Works  of  Sir  W.  Jones,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  315).    See  also  Ward's  View  of  the  Hindoos, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  67. 

2  Manu,  chap,  viii,  sec.  271,  in  Jones'  Works,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  314. 

3  Manu,  chap,  viii,  sec.  270. 

4  "  If  a  Sooder  gives  much  and  frequent  molestation  to  a  Brahmin,  the  magis- 
trate shall  put  him  to  death  "  (Halhed's  Code  of  Gentoo  Laws,  p.  262). 

5  Halhed's  Code  of  Gentoo  Laws,  p.  207.    As  to  the  case  of  striking  a  Brahmin, 
see  Rammormn  Roy  on  the  Veds,  2d  ed.  1832,  p.  227. 

6  "And  if  a  Sooder  listens  to  the  Beids  of  the  Shaster,  then  the  oil,  heated  as 
before,  shall  be  poured  into  his  ears  ;  and  arzeez  and  wax  shall  be  melted  together, 
and  the  orifice  of  his  ears  shall  be  stopped  up  therewith  "  (Halhed,  p.  262).    Com- 
pare the  prohibition  in  Manu,  chap,  iv,  sec.  99,  chap,  x,  sees.  109-111,  in  Jones' 
Works,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  174,  398. 

7  "  The  magistrate  shall  put  him  to  death  "  (Halhed,  p.  262).    In  Mrichchakati, 
the  judge  says  to  a  Sudra,  "  If  you  expound  the  Vedas,  will  not  your  tongue  be 
cut  out?"  (Wilson's  Theatre  of  the  Hindus,  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  p.  170). 

8  Ward's  View  of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  IV,  p.  308.    To  this  the  only  exception 
was  in  the  case  of  theft  (Mill's  History  of  India,  Vol.  I,  pp.  193,  260).    A  Brahmin 
could  "  on  no  account  be  capitally  punished  "  (Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  XV,  p.  44). 

9  Manu,  chap,  xi,  sec.  132,  in  Works  of  Sir  W.  Jones,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  422. 

10  "A  Brahmin,  if  he  take  a  Sudra  to  his  bed  as  his  first  wife,  sinks  to  the 
regions  of  torment "  (Institutes  of  Manu,  chap,  iii,  sec.  17,  in  Jones'  Works,  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  I2t).  Compare  the  denial  of  funeral  rites,  in  Colebrooke's  Digest  of  Hindu  Law, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  328.    And  on  the  different  hells  invented  by  the  Hindu  clergy,  see 
Vishnu   Purana,  p.    207;  Ward's  View  of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  II,  pp.   182,  183; 
Coleman's  Mythology  of  the  Hindus,  p.  113.    The  curious  details  in  Rhode,  Die 


210  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

name  of  a  laborer  should  be  expressive  of  contempt,  so  that  his 
proper  standing  might  be  immediately  known.1  And  lest  this 
should  not  be  enough  to  maintain  the  subordination  of  society, 
a  law  was  actually  made  forbidding  any  laborer  to  accumulate 
wealth ; 2  while  another  clause  declared  that  even  though  his 
master  should  give  him  freedom,  he  would  in  reality  still  be  a 
slave;  "for,"  says  the  lawgiver,  "of  a  state  which  is  natural  to 
him,  by  whom  can  he  be  divested  ?  "  3 

By  whom,  indeed,  could  he  be  divested  ?  I  ween  not  where 
that  power  was  by  which  so  vast  a  miracle  could  be  worked. 
For  in  India,  slavery  —  abject,  eternal  slavery  —  was  the  natural 
state  of  the  great  body  of  the  people ;  it  was  the  state  to  which 
they  were  doomed  by  physical  laws  utterly  impossible  to  resist. 
The  energy  of  those  laws  is,  in  truth,  so  invincible  that  wherever 
they  have  come  into  play  they  have  kept  the  productive  classes 
in  perpetual  subjection.  There  is  no  instance  on  record  of  any 
tropical  country  in  which,  wealth  having  been  extensively  accu- 
mulated, the  people  have  escaped  their  fate  ;  no  instance  in  which 
\  the  heat  of  the  climate  has  not  caused  an  abundance  of  food,  and 
I  the  abundance  of  food  caused  an  unequal  distribution,  first  of 

wealth,  and  then  of  political  and  social  power.;  Among  nations 

subjected  to  these  conditions  the  people  have 'counted  for  noth- 
ing ;  they  have  had  no  voice  in  the  management  of  the  state,  no 
control  over  the  wealth  their  own  industry  created.  Their  only 
business  has  been  to  labor  ;  their  only  duty,  to  obey.  /  Thus 

Religiose  Bildung  der  Hindus,  Vol.  I,  pp.  392, 393,  rather  refer  to  Buddhism,  and 
should  be  compared  with  Journal  Asiatique,  Vol.  VIII,  pp.  80,  81,  1826,  I  serie, 
Paris. 

1  Manu,  chap,  ii,  sec.  31,  in  Jones'  Works,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  87  ;  also  noticed  in  Rhode, 
Die  Religiose  Bildung,  Vol.  II,  p.  561  :    "Sein  Name  soil  schon  Verachtung  aus- 
driicken."    So,  too,  Mr.  Elphinstone  (History  of  India,  p.  17)  :"  The  proper  name 
of  a  Sudra  is  directed  to  be  expressive  of  contempt."    Compare  Origines  du 
Droit,  in  CEuvres  de  Michelet,  Bruxelles,  1840,  Vol.  II,  p.  387. 

2  Manu,  chap,  x,  sec.  129,  in  Jones'  Works,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  401.    This  law  is  pointed 
out  by  Mill  (History  of  India,  Vol.  I,  p.  195)  as  an  evidence  of  the  miserable  state 
of  the  people,  which  Mr.  Wilson  (note  in  page  194)  vainly  attempts  to  evade. 

8  "A  Sudra,  though  emancipated  by  his  master,  is  not  released  from  a  state  of 
servitude ;  for  of  a  state  which  is  natural  to  him,  by  whom  can  he  be  divested  ? " 
(Institutes  of  Manu,  chap,  viii,  sec.  414,  in  Works  of  Sir  W.  Jones,  Vol.  Ill, 

P-  333)- 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY   PHYSICAL  LAWS      211 

there  have  been  generated  among  them  those  habits  of  tame  and 
servile  submission  by  which,  as  we  know  from  history,  they  have 
always  been  characterized.  For  it  is  an  undoubted  fact  that  their 
annals  furnish  no  instance  of  their  having  turned  upon  their 
rulers,  no  war  of  classes,  no  popular  insurrections,  not  even  one 
great  popular  conspiracy.  In  those  rich  and  fertile  countries 
there  have  been  many  changes,  but  all  of  them  have  been  from 
above,  not  from  below.  The  democratic  element  has  been  alto- 
gether wanting.  There  have  been,  in  abundance,  wars  of  kings 
and  wars  of  dynasties.  There  have  been  revolutions  in  the  govern- 
ment, revolutions  in  the  palace,  revolutions  on  the  throne ;  but 
no  revolutions  among  the  people,1  no  mitigation  of  that  hard  lot 
which  nature  rather  than  man  assigned  to  them.  Nor  was  it 
until  civilization  arose  in  Europe  that  other  physical  laws,  came 
into  operation,  and  therefore  other  results  were  produced.  In 
Europe,  for  the  first  time,  there  was  some  approach  to  equality, 
some  tendency  to  correct  that  enormous  disproportion  of  wealth 
and  power  which  formed  the  essential  weakness  of  the  greatest 
of  the  more  ancient  countries.  As  a  natural  consequence,  it  is 
in  Europe  that  everything  worthy  of  the  name  of  civilization  has 
originated  ;  because  there  alone  have  attempts  been  made  to 
preserve  the  balance  of  its  relative  parts.  There  alone  has  society 
been  organized  according  to  a  scheme,  not  indeed  sufficiently 
large,  but  still  wide  enough  to  include  all  the  different  classes  of 
which  it  is  composed,  and  thus,  by  leaving  room  for  the  progress 
of  each,  to  secure  the  permanence  and  advancement  of  the  whole. 
The  way  in  which  certain  other  physical  peculiarities  confined 
to  Europe  have  also  accelerated  the  progress  of  man  by  dimin- 
ishing his  superstition  will  be  indicated  towards  the  end  of 
this  chapter ;  but  as  that  will  involve  an  examination  of  some 
laws  which  I  have  not  yet  noticed,  it  seems  advisable,  in  the  first 

1  An  intelligent  observer  says  :  "  It  is  also  remarkable  how  little  the  people  of 
Asiatic  countries  have  to  do  in  the  revolutions  of  their  governments.  They  are 
never  guided  by  any  great  and  common  impulse  of  feeling,  and  take  no  part 
in  events  the  most  interesting  and  important  to  their  country  and  their  own 
prosperity"  (M'Murdo  on  the  Country  of  Sindh,  in  Journal  of  Asiatic  Society, 
Vol.  I,  p.  250).  Compare  similar  remarks  in  Herder's  Ideen  zur  Geschichte, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  114;  and  even  in  Alison's  History  of  Europe,  Vol.  X,  pp.  419,  420. 


212  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

place,  to  complete  the  inquiry  now  before  us ;  and  I  therefore 
purpose  proving  that  the  line  of  argument  which  has  been  just 
applied  to  India  is  likewise  applicable  to  Egypt,  to  Mexico,  and  to 
Peru.  For  by  thus  including  in  a  single  survey  the  most  conspicu- 
ous civilizations  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  America,  we  shall  be  able 
to  see  how  the  preceding  principles  hold  good  of  different  and 
distant  countries;  and  we  shall  be  possessed  of  evidence  suffi- 
ciently comprehensive  to  test  the  accuracy  of  those  great  laws 
which,  without  such  precaution,  I  might  be  supposed  to  have  gen- 
eralized from  scanty  and  imperfect  materials. 

The  reasons  why,  of  all  the  African  nations,  the  Egyptians 
alone  were  civilized,  have  been  already  stated,  and  have  been 
shown  to  depend  on  those  physical  peculiarities  which  distinguish 
them  from  the  surrounding  countries,  and  which,  facilitating 
the  acquisition  of  wealth,  not  only  supplied  them  with  material 
resources  that  otherwise  they  could  never  have  obtained,  but 
also  secured  to  their  intellectual  classes  the  leisure  and  the 
opportunity  of  extending  the  boundaries  of  knowledge.  It  is, 
indeed,  true  that,  notwithstanding  these  advantages,  they  effected 
nothing  of  much  moment ;  but  this  was  owing  to  circumstances 
which  will  be  hereafter  explained  ;  and  it  must,  at  all  events,  be 
admitted  that  they  raised  themselves  far  above  every  other 
people  by  whom  Africa  was  inhabited. 

The  civilization  of  Egypt  being,  like  that  of  India,  caused  by 
the  fertility  of  the  soil,  and  the  climate  being  also  very  hot,1 
there  were  in  both  countries  brought  into  play  the  same  laws  ; 
,and  there  naturally  followed  the  same  results.  In  both  countries 
we  find  the  national  food  cheap  and  abundant ;  hence  the  labor 
market  oversupplied  ;  hence  a  very  unequal  division  of  wealth 
and  power  ;  and  hence  all  the  consequences  which  such  in- 
equality will  inevitably  produce.  How  this  system  worked  in  India 
I  have  just  attempted  to  examine  ;  and  although  the  materials 
for  studying  the  former  condition  of  Egypt  are  much  less  ample, 
they  are  still  sufficiently  numerous  to  prove  the  striking  analogy 
between  the  two  civilizations  and  the  identity  of  those  great 

1  Volney  (Voyage  en  figypte,  Vol.  I,  pp.  58-63)  has  a  good  chapter  on  the 
climate  of  Egypt. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       213 

principles  which  regulated  the  order  of  their  social  and  political 
development. 

If  we  inquire  into  the  most  important  circumstances  which 
concerned  the  people  of  ancient  Egypt,  we  shall  see  that  they 
are  exactly  a  counterpart  of  those  that  have  been  noticed  in. 
India.    For,  in  the  first  place,  as  regards  their  ordinary  food,  i 
what  rice  is  to  the   most  fertile  parts  of  Asia  dates   are^to/ 
Africa.    The  palm  tree  is  found  in  every  country  from  the  Tigris 
to  the  Atlantic;1  and  it  supplies  millions  of  human  beings  with 
their  daily  food  in  Arabia,2  and  in  nearly  the  whole  of  Africa 
north  of  the  equator.3    In  many  parts  of  the  great  African  desert 
it  is  indeed  unable  to  bear  fruit ;  but  naturally  it  is  a  very  hardy 
plant,  and  produces  dates  in  such  profusion    that  towards  the 
north  of  the  Sahara  they  are  eaten  not  only  by  man  but  also  by 
domestic  animals.4    And  in  Egypt,  where  the  palm  is  said  to  be 

1  It  is,  however,  unknown  in  South  Africa.    See  the  account  of  the  Palmaceae 
in  Lindley's  Vegetable  Kingdom,  1847,  P-  X36>  and  Meyen's  Geography  of  Plants, 

P-  337- 

2  "  Of  all  eatables  used  by  the  Arabs,  dates  are  the  most  favorite  "  (Burck- 
hardt's  Travels  in  Arabia,  Vol.  I,  p.  56.    See  also  for  proof  of  their  abundance  in 
the  west  of  Arabia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  103,  157,  238;  Vol.  II,  pp.  91,  100,  105,  118,  209, 
210,  214,  253,  300,  331.    And  on  the  dates  of  Oman  and  the  east  of  Arabia,  see 
Wellsted's  Travels  in  Arabia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  188,  189,  236,  276,  290,  349.    Compare 
Niebuhr,   Description  de  1'Arabie,  pp.  142,  296.    Indeed,  they  are  so  important 
that  the  Arabs  have  different  names  for  them,  according  to  the  stages  of  their 
growth.     Djewhari  says,  "  La  denomination  balah  precede    le  nom  bosr;  car  la 
datte  se  nomme  d'abord  tala,  en  suite  khalal,  puis  balah,  puis  bosr,  puis  rotab,  et 
enfin  tamr  "  (De  Sacy's  note  to  Abd-Allatif's  Relation  de  1'figypte,  p.  74).    See 
also  p.  118.    Other  notices  of  the  dates  of  Arabia  will  be  found  in  Travels  of  Ibn 
Batuta  in  Fourteenth  Century,  p.  66  ;  Journal  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  286 ; 
Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  IV,  p.  201  ;  Vol.  VI,  pp.  53,  55,  58,  66,  68, 
74;  Vol.  VII,  p.  32  ;   Vol.  IX,  pp.  147,  151. 

8  Heeren  (Trade  of  the  African  Nations,  Vol.  I,  p.  182)  supposes  that  in  Africa 
dates  are  comparatively  little  known  south  of  26°  north  latitude.  But  this  learned 
writer  is  certainly  mistaken ;  and  a  reference  to  the  following  passages  will  show 
that  they  are  common  as  far  down  as  the  parallel  of  Lake  Tchad,  which  is  nearly 
the  southern  limit  of  our  knowledge  of  central  Africa  :  Denham's  Central  Africa, 
p.  295  ;  Clapperton's  Journal,  in  Appendix  to  Denham,  pp.  34,  59;  Clapperton's 
Second  Expedition,  p.  159.  Further  east  they  are  somewhat  scarcer,  but  are 
found  much  more  to  the  south  than  is  supposed  by  Heeren.  See  Pallme's  Kor- 
dofan,  p.  220. 

*  "  Dates  are  not  only  the  principal  growth  of  the  Fezzan  oases,  but  the  main 
subsistence  of  their  inhabitants.  All  live  on  dates ;  men,  women,  and  children, 


214  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  spontaneous  growth,1  dates,  besides  being  the  chief  sustenance 
of  the  people,  are  so  plentiful  that  from  a  very  early  period  they 
have  been  commonly  given  to  camels,  the  only  beasts  of  burden 
generally  used  in  that  country. 

From  these  facts  it  is  evident  that,  taking  Egypt  as  the  highest 
type  of  African  civilization,  and  India  as  the  highest  type  of 
Asiatic  civilization,  it  may  be  said  that  dates  are  to  the  first  civi- 
lization what  rice  is  to  the  second.  Now*  it  is  observable  thaK 
all  the  most  important  physical  peculiarities  found  in  rice  are  also 
found  in  dates.  In  regard  to  their  chemistry,  it  is  well  known 
that  the  chief  principle  of  the  nutriment  they  contain  is  the  same 
in  both,  the  starch  of  the  Indian  vegetable  being  merely  turned 
into  the  sugar  of.  the  Egyptian.  In  regard  to  the  laws  of  climate, 
their  affinity  is  equally  obvious,  since  dates,  like  rice,  belong  to 
hot  countries,  and  flourish  most  in  or  near  the  tropics.  In  regard 
to  their  increase,  and  the  laws  of  their  connection  with  the  soil, 
the  analogy  is  also  exact ;  for  dates,  just  the  same  as  rice,  require 
little  labor,  and  yield  abundant  returns,  while  they  occupy  so 
small  a  space  of  land  in  comparison  with  the  nutriment  they 
afford  that  upwards  of  two  hundred  palm  trees  are  sometimes 
planted  on  a  single  acre.2 

horses,  asses,  and  camels,  and  sheep,  fowls,  and  dogs  "  (Richardson's  Travels  in 
the  Sahara,  Vol.  II,  p.  323,  and  see  Vol.  I,  p.  343).  As  to  those  parts  of  the  desert 
where  the  palm  will  not  bear,  see  Vol.  I,  pp.  387,  405;  Vol.  II,  pp.  291,  363. 
Respecting  the  dates  of  Western  Africa,  see  Journal  of  Geographical  Society, 
Vol.  XII,  p.  204. 

1  "  It  flourished  spontaneously  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile  "  (Wilkinson's  Ancient 
Egyptians,  Vol.  II,  p.  372).    As  further  illustration  of  the  importance  to  Africa  of 
this  beautiful  plant,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  from  the  high  palm  there  is  prepared 
a  peculiar  beverage,  which  in  some  parts  is  in  great  request.    On  this,  which  is 
called  palm  wine,  see  M' William's  Medical  Expedition  to  the  Niger,  pp.  71,  116; 
Meredith's  Gold  Coast  of  Africa,  1812,  pp.  55,  56;  Laird  and  Oldfield's  Expedition 
into  the  Interior  of  Africa,  1837,  Vol.  II,  pp.  170,  213;   Bowdich's  Mission  to 
Ashantee,  pp.  69,  100,  152,  293,  386,  392.    But  I  doubt  if  this  is  the  same  as  the 
palm  wine  mentioned  in  Balfour's  Botany,  1849,  p.  532.    Compare  Tuckey's  Expe- 
dition to  the  Zaire,  pp.  155,  216,  224,  356. 

2  "  In   the  valley  of  the  Nile  a  feddan  (if  acres)  is  sometimes  planted  with 
four  hundred  trees"  (Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  II,  p.  178).   At  Murzuk 
an  entire  date  palm  is  only  worth  about  a  shilling  (Richardson's  Central  Africa, 
Vol.  I,  p.  in). 


215 

Thus  striking  are  the  similarities  to  which,  in  different  coun- 
tries, the  same  physical  conditions  naturally  give  rise.  At  the 
same  time,  in  Egypt,  as  in  India,  the  attainment  of  civilization 
was  preceded  by  the  possession  of  a  highly  fertile  soil ;  so  that, 
while  the  exuberance  of  the  land  regulated  the  speed  with  which 
wealth  was  created,  the  abundance  of  the  food  regulated  the  pro- 
portions into  which  the  wealth  was  divided.  The  most  fertile 
part  of  Egypt  is  the  Said ; 1  and  it  is  precisely  there  that  we  find 
the  greatest  display  of  skill  and  knowledge,  the  splendid  remains 
of  Thebes,  Karnak,  Luxor,  Dendera,  and  Edfu.2  It  is  also  in  the 
Said,  or,  as  it  is  often  called,  the  Thebaid,  that  a  food  is  used 
which  multiplies  itself  even  more  rapidly  than  either  dates  or 
rice.  This  is  the  dhourra,  which  until  recently  was  confined 
to  Upper  Egypt,3  and  of  which  the  reproductive  power  is  so 
remarkable  that  it  yields  to  the  laborer  a  return  of  two  hundred 
and  forty  for  one.4  In  Lower  Egypt  the  dhourra  was  formerly 

1  On  the  remarkable  fertility  of  the  Said,  see  Abd-Allatif,  Relation  de  1'figypte, 

P-3- 

2  The  superiority  of  the  ruins  in  southern  Egypt  over  those  in  the  northern 
part  is  noticed  by  Heeren  (African  Nations,  Vol.  II,  p.  69),  and  must,  indeed,  be 
obvious  to  whoever  has  studied  the  monuments.     In  the  Said  the  Coptic  was 
preserved  longer  than  in  Lower  Egypt,  and  is  known  to  philologists  by  the  name 
of  Misr.     See  Quatremere,  Recherches  sur  la  Langue  de  1'Egypte,  pp.  20,  41,  42. 
See  also  on  the  Saidic,  pp.  134-140,  and  some  good  remarks  by  Dr.  Prichard 
(Physical  History,  Vol.  II,  p.  202),  who,  however,  adopts  the  paradoxical  opinion 
of  Georgi  respecting  the  origin  of  the  language  of  the  Thebaid. 

3  Abd-Allatif  (Relation  de  Pfigypte,  p.  32)  says,  that  in  his  time  it  was  only 
cultivated  in  the  Said.    This  curious  work  by  Abd-Allatif  was  written  in  A.D.  1203 
(Relation,  p.  423).    Meiners  thinks  that  Herodotus  and  other  ancient  writers  refer 
to  the  dhourra  without  mentioning  it :  "  Diese  Durra  muss  daher  im  Herodot,  wie 
in  andern  alien  Schriftstellern,  vorziiglich  verstanden  werden,  wenn  von  hundert, 
zwei  hundert,  und  mehrfaltigen  Friichten,  welche  die  Erde  trage,  die  Rede  ist  " 
(Meiners,  Fruchtbarkeit  der  Lander,  Vol.  I,  p.  139).  According  to  Volney,  it  is  the 
Holcus  Arundinaceus  of  Linnaeus,  and  appears  to  be  similar  to  millet ;  and  though 
that  accurate  traveler  distinguishes  between  them,  I  observe  that  Captain  Haines, 
in   a  recent  memoir,  speaks  of  them  as  being  the  same.     Compare   Haines  in 
Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  XV,  p.  1 18,  with  Volney,  Voyage  en  Egypte, 
Vol.  I,  p.  195. 

*  "  The  return  is  in  general  not  less  than  two  hundred  and  forty  for  one ;  and 
the  average  price  is  about  3.?.  9  d.  the  ardeb,  which  is  scarcely  T,d.  per  bushel" 
(Hamilton's  ^Egyptiaca,  p.  420).  In  Upper  Egypt  "  the  doura  constitutes  almost 
the  whole  subsistence  of  the  peasantry"  (p.  419).  At  p.  96,  Hamilton  says,  "I 
have  frequently  counted  three  thousand  grains  in  one  ear  of  doura,  and  each 


216  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

unknown ;  but,  in  addition  to  dates,  the  people  made  a  sort  of 
bread  from  the  lotus,  which  sprang  spontaneously  out  of  the  rich 
soil  of  the  Nile.1  This  must  have  been  a  very  cheap  and  acces- 
sible food  ;  while  to  it  there  was  joined  a  profusion  of  other 
plants  and  herbs,  on  which  the  Egyptians  chiefly  lived.2  Indeed, 
so  inexhaustible  was  the  supply,  that  at  the  time  of  the  Moham- 
medan invasion  there  were,  in  the  single  city  of  Alexandria,  no 
less  than  four  thousand  persons  occupied  in  selling  vegetables 
to  the  people.3 

From  this  abundance  of  the  national  food  there  resulted  a 
train  of  events  strictly  analogous  to  those  which  took  place  in 
India.  In  Africa,  generally,  the  growth  of  population,  though  on 
the  one  hand  stimulated  by  the  heat  of  the  climate,  was  on  the 
other  hand  checked  by  the  poverty  of  the  soil.  But  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nile  this  restraint  no  longer  existed,4  and  therefore  the 
laws  already  noticed  came  into  uncontrolled  operation.  By  virtue 

stalk  has  in  general  four  or  five  ears."  For  an  account  of  the  dhourra  bread,  see 
Volney,  Voyage  en  figypte,  Vol.  I,  p.  161. 

1  'Eireav  irX^pTjj  ytvyTai  6  TTOTO^S,   ical  rh.  ireSia  TTfXaylff-g,  <f>vfrat  tv  T<?  vSan 
Kpivea  TroXXa,  TO.  Aiyfarrioi  Ka\£ov<ri  \ur6v  ravra  iireav  Sp^wert,  avaivovcri  Trpds  rj\iov. 
Kal  fTreira  rb  {K  TOV  pfoov  TOV  XarroO  rrj  /J.-/IKUVI  tbv    ^u.0ep£s,  irn'o-aires,  TrotfCvrai  ii- 
O.VTOV  Aprons  OTTTOVS  irvpl  (Herodotus,  II,  92). 

2  Wilkinson's   Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  II,  pp.   370-372,  400 ;  Vol.  IV,  p.  59. 
Abd-Allatif  gives  a  curious  account  of  the  different  vegetables  grown  in  Egypt 
early  in  the  thirteenth  century  (Relation,  pp.  16-36,  and  the  notes  of  De  Sacy, 
pp.  37-134).    On  the  KVCL/MS  of  Herodotus  there  are  some  botanical  remarks  worth 
reading  in  the   Correspondence  of  Sir  J.  E.  Smith,  Vol.  II,   pp.  224-232 ;  but  I 
doubt  the  assertion  (p.  227)  that  Herodotus  "knew  nothing  of  any  other  kind  of 
KI/O^IOS  in  Egypt  than  that  of  the  ordinary  bean." 

3  "  When  Alexandria  was  taken  by  Amer,  the  lieutenant  of  the  Caliph  Omar, 
no  less  than  four  thousand  persons  were  engaged  in  selling  vegetables  in  that  city" 
(Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  II,  p.  372,  and  see  Vol.  I,  p.  277;  Vol.  IV, 
p.  60).     Niebuhr  (Description  de  1'Arabie,  p.  136)  says  that  the  neighborhood  of 
Alexandria  is  so  fertile  that  "  le  froment  y  rend  le  centuple."    See  also,  on  its  rich 
vegetation,  Matter,  Histoire  de  1'ficole  d'Alexandrie,  Vol.  I,  p.  52. 

4  The  encouragement  given  to  the  increase  of  population  by  the  fertility  arising 
from  the  inundation  of  the  Nile  is  observed  by  many  writers,  but  by  none  so 
judiciously  as  Malthus  (Essay  on  Population,  Vol.  I,  pp.  161-163).     This  great 
work,  the  principles  of  which  have  been  grossly  misrepresented,  is  still  the  best 
which   has   been  written  on  the  important  subject  of  population ;    though   the 
author,  from  a  want  of  sufficient  reading,  often  errs  in  his  illustrations,  while  he 
unfortunately  had  no  acquaintance  with  those  branches  of  physical  knowledge 
which  are  intimately  connected  with  economical  inquiries. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       217 

of  those  laws,  the  Egyptians  were  not  only  satisfied  with  a  cheap 
food,  but  they  required  that  food  in  comparatively  small  quan- 
tities, thus  by  a  double  process  increasing  the  limit  to  which 
their  numbers  could  extend.  At  the  same  time  the  lower  orders 
were  able  to  rear  their  offspring  with  the  greater  ease,  because, 
owing  to  the  high  rate  of  temperature,  another  considerable 
source  of  expense  was  avoided  ;  the  heat  being  such  that,  even 
for  adults,  the  necessary  clothes  were  few  and  slight,  while  the 
children  of  the  working  classes  went  entirely  naked,  affording  a 
striking  contrast  to  those  colder  countries,  where,  to  preserve 
ordinary  health,  a  supply  of  warmer  and  more  costly  covering 
is  essential.  Diodorus  Siculus,  who  traveled  in  Egypt  nineteen 
centuries  ago,  says  that  to  bring  up  a  child  to  manhood  did  not 
cost  more  than  twenty  drachmas,  scarcely  thirteen  shillings 
English  money, — a  circumstance  which  he  justly  notices  as  a 
cause  of  the  populousness  of  the  country.1 

To  compress  into  a  single  sentence  the  preceding  remarks,  it 
may  be  said  that  in  Egypt  the  people  multiplied  rapidly,  because  , 
while  the  soil  increased  their  supplies,  the  climate  lessened  their/ 
wants.    The  result  was  that  Egypt  was  not  only  far  more  thickly 
peopled  than  any  other  country  in  Africa  but  probably^  more_ 
so  than  any  in  the  ancient  world.    Our  information  upon  this 
point  is  indeed  somewhat  scanty,  but  it  is  derived  from  sources 
of  unquestioned   credibility.     Herodotus,   who   the  more  he  is 
understood   the  more  accurate  he  is   found  to  be,2  states  that 


i  8t  ra  iraiSia  //.era  rtws  e&xepelas  d&urd»OV,  xa.1  TravreXtDs  airi<rrov.  .  .  .. 
&WTro8^Twi>  5£  T&V  Tr\fiffTii}v  leal  yvfj.vuv  Tpf<f)0fj.tvb}v  dio.  TT]V  tvKpo.ffia.v  7 G)v  rtnrwv,  rrjv 
iraffav  SaTrdvrjv  ol  "Yovets,  &XP1*  ^•"  e's  ^XiKiai/  eXOrj  rb  T^KVOV,  ov  TrXei'w  iroiovcri  dpa- 
XH&v  etKOffi.  di  as  ai'riaj  /uaXwrra  r^v  Alyvirrov  ffv^aivei  iroXvavOpiawig.  5ia<f>tpeu>,  Kal 
Sid  ToCro  irXetVraj  fXelv  MtTaXwf  epytiiv  /carcwKevas  (Bibliothec.  Hist.,  Book  I, 
chap.  Ixxx,  Vol.  I,  p.  238). 

2  Frederick  Schlegel  (Philosophy  of  History,  p.  247,  London,  1846)  truly  says, 
"  The  deeper  and  more  comprehensive  the  researches  of  the  moderns  have  been 
on  ancient  history,  the  more  have  their  regard  and  esteem  for  Herodotus  in- 
creased." His  minute  information  respecting  Egypt  and  Asia  Minor  is  now 
admitted  by  all  competent  geographers,  and  I  may  add  that  a  recent  and  very 
able  traveler  has  given  some  curious  proofs  of  his  knowledge  even  of  the  western 
parts  of  Siberia.  See  Erman's  valuable  work,  Travels  in  Siberia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  211, 
297-301 . 


2l8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

in  the  reign  of  Amasis  there  were  said  to  have  been  twenty 
thousand  inhabited  cities.1  This  may,  perhaps,  be  considered 
an  exaggeration  ;  but  what  is  very  observable  is  that  Diodorus 
Siculus,  who  traveled  in  Egypt  four  centuries  after  Herodotus, 
and  whose  jealousy  of  the  reputation  of  his  great  predecessor 
made  him  anxious  to  discredit  his  statement,2  does,  nevertheless, 
on  this  important  point,  confirm  them.  For  he  not  only  remarks 
that  Egypt  was  at  that  time  as  densely  inhabited  as  any  existing 
country,  but  he  adds,  on  the  authority  of  records  which  were 
then  extant,  that  it  was  formerly  the  most  populous  in  the  world, 
having  contained,  he  says,  upwards  of  eighteen  thousand  cities.3 
These  were  the  only  two  ancient  writers  who,  from  personal 
knowledge,  were  well  acquainted  with  the  state  of  Egypt  ;  4  and 
their  testimony  is  the  more  valuable  because  it  was  evidently 
drawn  from  different  sources  ;  the  information  of  Herodotus 
being  chiefly  collected  at  Memphis,  that  of  Diodorus  at  Thebes.5 


1  'Eir'  'A/juiffios  8t  /3a<«XA>j  X^yerat  Atyvirros  /jAXurra  dr)  rbrt  evSaL/^ovrjffaL,  ical  ra 
diri  rov  irora/toO  ry  X&PV  yt"6fjfva,  ical  ra  curb  TT)S  x^P7?*  Toiffi  avOpuirouri.    isai  ir6\a 
£v  ai>TTJ  yevfoOat  ras  aVacras  rlne   oicr/xrpt'aj  TOJ  otVeoulva?   (Herodotus,  Book   II, 
chap,  clxxvii). 

2  Diodorus,  who,  though  an  honest  and  painstaking  man,  was  in  every  respect 
inferior  to  Herodotus,  says,  impertinently  enough,  &<ra  ntt>  ot>v  'Hp65oroj  ical  rim 
ruv  TOJ  Alyvirriuv  wpdl-eis  ffwra^a^yuv  ^rxeSiaKcuni',   txovfftws    irpoKplvavres    TTJS 
aXr/Oeias    rb    irapaSo&Xoyeiv,     Kal     friQovs    irXdrreiv    \f/vx"-y<^y^    ZveKa,    wap-ijffonfv 
(Bibliothec.  Hist.,  Book  I,  chap.  Ixix,  Vol.  I,  p.  207).    In  other  places  he  alludes 
to  Herodotus  in  the  same  tone,  without  actually  mentioning  him. 

8  IIoXi'ai^pcoTri'iji  S£  rb  fj£v  Tra\cubv  iroAt)  irpotffx*  ifdvruv  TUV  yvwpifofdvuv  rbirwv 
Korct  r^v  oiKovfdvTriv,  Kal  Ka(?  ^as  5^  o^Sevis  r£>v  a\\u>v  doicci  XetireffOai.  iirl  /J.tv  yap 
rwv  dpxaluv  XP^V^V  t&Xe  KiSi/JMS  d£io\6yovs,  Kal  ir&\eis  irXe/oi/s  TWV  fivplwv  Kal  OKTOKICT- 
XiXfwv,  w'j  tv  rais  dvaypa<pats  opav  tffn  Ka.Ta.Kfx^PLfff^vov  (Diod.  Sic.,  Bibliothec. 
Hist.,  Book  I,  chap,  xxxi,  Vol.  I,  p.  89). 

4  Notwithstanding  the  positive  assertions  of  M.  Matter  (Histoire  de  I'ficole 
d'Alexandrie,  Vol.  II,  p.  285  ;  compare  Histoire  du  Gnosticisme,  Vol.  I,  p.  48),  there 
is  no  good  evidence  for  the  supposed  travels  in  Egypt  of  the  earlier  Greeks,  and 
it  is  even  questionable  if  Plato  ever  visited  that  country.  "  Whether  he  was  ever 
in  Egypt  is  doubtful  "  (Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  p.  60).  The  Romans  took  little 
interest  in  the  subject  (Bunsen,  Vol.  I,  pp.  152-158);  and,  says  M.  Bunsen  (p.  152) 
"  with  Diodorus  all  systematic  inquiry  into  the  history  of  Egypt  ceases,  not  only 
on  the  part  of  the  Greeks,  but  of  the  ancients  in  general."  Mr.  Leake,  in  an  essay 
on  the  Quorra,  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  after  the  time  of  Ptolemy  the 
ancients  made  no  additions  to  their  knowledge  of  African  geography  (Journal 
of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  9). 

6  See  on  this  some  good  remarks  in  Heeren's  African  Nations,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  202-207;  and  'as  to  the  difference  between  the  traditions  of  Thebes  and 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       219 

And  whatever  discrepancies  there  may  be  between  these  two 
accounts,  they  are  both  agreed  respecting  the  rapid  increase  of 
the  people  and  the  servile  condition  into  which  they  had  fallen. 
Indeed,  the  mere  appearance  of  those  huge  and  costly  buildings, 
which  are  still  standing,  is  a  proof  of  the  state  of  the  nation  that 
erected  them.  To  raise  structures  so  stupendous,1  and  yet  so 
useless,2  there  must  have  been  tyranny  on  the  part  of  the  rulers 
and  slavery  on  the  part  of  the  people.  No  wealth,  however  great, 
no  expenditure,  however  lavish,  could  meet  the  expense  which 
would  have  been  incurred  if  they  had  been  the  work  of  free  men, 
who  received  for  their  labor  a  fair  and  honest  reward.3  But  in 
Egypt,  as  in  India,  such  considerations  were  disregarded,  because 
everything  tended  to  favor  the  upper  ranks  of  society  and  de- 
press the  lower.  Between  the  two  there  was  an  immense  and 
impassable  gap.4  If  a  member  of  the  industrious  classes  changed 
his  usual  employment  or  was  known  to  pay  attention  to  political 
matters,  he  was  severely  punished  ; 5  and  under  no  circumstances 

Memphis,  see  Matter,  Histoire  de  1'ficole  d'Alexandrie,  Vol.  I,  p.  7.  The  power 
and  importance  of  the  two  cities  fluctuated,  both  being  at  different  periods  the 
capital.  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  pp.  54,  55,  244,  445,  446;  Vyse  on  the  Pyramids, 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  27,  100;  Sharpe's  History  of  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  pp.  9,  19,  24,  34,  167,  185. 

1  Sir  John  Herschel  (Discourse  on  Natural  Philosophy,  p.  60)  calculates  that 
the  great  pyramid  weighs  12,760,000,000  pounds.     Compare  Lyell's  Principles  of 
Geology,  p.  459,  where  the  still  larger  estimate  of  6,000,000  tons  is  given.    But 
according   to    Perring,  the    present    quantity    of  masonry  is  6,316,000   tons,   or 
82,110,000  cubic  feet.    See  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  p.  155,  London,   1854,  and 
Vyse  on  the  Pyramids,  1840,  Vol.  II,  p.  113. 

2  Many  fanciful  hypotheses  have  been  put  forward  as  to  the  purpose  for  which 
the  pyramids  were  built;  but  it  is  now  admitted  that  they  were  neither  more  nor 
less  than  tombs  for  the  Egyptian  kings !     See  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  pp.  xvii, 
88,  105,  372,  389;  and  Sharpe's  History  of  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  p.  21. 

8  For  an  estimate  of  the  expense  at  which  one  of  the  pyramids  could  be  built 
in  our  time  by  European  workmen,  see  Vyse  on  the  Pyramids,  Vol.  II,  p.  268. 
On  account,  however,  of  the  number  of  disturbing  causes,  such  calculations  have 
little  value. 

*  Those  who  complain  that  in  Europe  this  interval  is  still  too  great  may  derive 
a  species  of  satisfaction  from  studying  the  old  extra-European  civilizations. 

6  Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  II,  pp.  8,  9.  "  Nor  was  any  one  per- 
mitted to  meddle  with  political  affairs,  or  to  hold  any  civil  office  in  the  state."  .  .  . 
"  If  any  artisan  meddled  with  political  affairs,  or  engaged  in  any  other  employment 
than  the  one  to  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  a  severe  punishment  was  instantly 
inflicted  upon  him."  Compare  Diod.  Sic.,  Bibliothec.  Hist.,  Boole  I,  chap.  Ixxiv, 
Vol.  I,  p.  223. 


220 

was  the  possession  of  land  allowed  to  an  agricultural  laborer,  to 
a  mechanic,  or  indeed1  to  any  one  except  the  king,  the  clergy,  and 
the  army.1  The  people  at  large  were  little  better  than  beasts  of 
burden ;  and  all  that  was  expected  from  them  was  an  unremit- 
ting and  unrequited  labor.  If  they  neglected  their  work,  they 
were  flogged  ;  and  the  same  punishment  was  'frequently  inflicted 
upon  domestic  servants,  and  even  upon  women.2  These  and 
similar  regulations  were  well  conceived;  they  were  admirably 
suited  to  that  vast  social  system  which,  because  it  was  based  on 
despotism,  could  only  be  upheld  by  cruelty.  Hence  it  was  that 
the  industry  of  the  whole  nation  being  at  the  absolute  command 
of  a  small  part  of  it,  there  arose  the  possibility  of  rearing  those 
vast  edifices  which  inconsiderate  observers  admire  as  a  proof  of 
civilization,3  but  which,  in  reality,  are  evidence  of  a  state  of  things 
altogether  depraved  and  unhealthy;  a  state  in  which  the  skill 
and  the  arts  of  an  imperfect  refinement  injured  those  whom  they 
ought  to  have  benefited;  so  that  the  very  resources  which  the 
people  had  created  were  turned  against  the  people  themselves. 

That  in  such  a  society  as  this  much  regard  should  be  paid  to 
human  suffering  it  would  indeed  be  idle  to  expect.4  Still,  we  are 

1  Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  I,  p.  263  ;  Vol.  II,  p.  2;  Sharpe's  History 
of  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  p.  24. 

2  Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  II,  pp.  41,  42;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  69;  Vol.  IV, 
p.  131.    Compare  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  in  Hamilton's  ^Egyptiaca,  p.  309. 

8  Vyse  on  the  Pyramids,  Vol.  I,  p.  61  ;  Vol.  II,  p.  92. 

*  "  Ein  Konig  ahmte  den  andern  nach,  oder  suchte  ihn  zu  iibertreffen ;  indess 
das  gutmiithige  Volk  seine  Lebenstage  am  Baue  dieser  Monumente  verzehren 
musste.  So  entstanden  wahrscheinlich  die  Pyramiden  und  Obelisken  Aegyptens. 
Nur  in  den  altesten  Zeiten  wurden  sie  gebauet :  denn  die  spatere  Zeit  und  jede 
Nation,  die  ein  niitzliches  Gewerbe  treiben  lernte,  bauete  keine  Pyramiden  mehr. 
Weit  gefehlt  also,  dass  Pyramiden  ein  Kennzeichen  von  der  Gliickseligkeit  und 
Aufklarung  des  alien  Aegyptens  seyn  sollten,  sind  sie  ein  unwidersprechliches 
Denkmal  von  dem  Aberglauben  und  der  Gedankenlosigkeit  sowohl  der  Armen, 
die  da  baueten,  als  der  Ehrggizigen,  die  den  Bau  befahlen  "  (Herder,  Ideen  zur 
Geschichte,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  103,  104.  See  also  p.  293,  and  some  admirable  remarks 
in  Volney,  Voyage  en  figypte,  Vol.  I,  pp.  240,  241).  Even  M.  Bunsen,  notwith- 
standing his  admiration,  says  of  one  of  the  pyramids :  "  The  misery  of  the  people, 
already  grievously  oppressed,  was  aggravated  by  the  construction  of  this  gigantic 
building.  .  .  .  The  bones  of  the  oppressors  of  the  people  who  for  two  whole 
generations  harassed  hundreds  of  thousands  from  day  to  day,"  etc.  (Bunsen's 
Egypt,  Vol.  II,  p.  176,  a  learned  and  enthusiastic  work). 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       221 

startled  by  the  reckless  prodigality  with  which,  in  Egypt,  the 
upper  classes  squandered  away  the  labor  and  the  lives  of  the 
people.  In  this  respect,  as  the  monuments  yet  remaining  abun- 
dantly prove,  they  stand  alone  and  without  a  rival.  We  may 
form  some  idea  of  the  almost  incredible  waste  when  we  hear 
that  two  thousand  men  were  occupied  for  three  years  in  carrying 
a  single  stone  from  Elephantine  to  Sais  ; 1  that  the  Canal  of  the 
Red  Sea  alone  cost  the  lives  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
Egyptians  ; 2  and  that  to  build  one  of  the  pyramids  required 
the  labor  of  three  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  men  for  twenty 
years.3 

If,  passing  from  the  history  of  Asia  and  Africa,  we  now  turn 
to  the  New  World,  we  shall  meet  with  fresh  proof  of  the  accu- 
racy of  the  preceding  views.  The  only  parts  of  America  which 
before  the  arrival  of  the  Europeans  were  in  some  degree  civilized 
were  Mexico  and  Peru ; 4  to  which  may  probably  be  added  that 
long  and  narrow  tract  which  stretches  from  the  south  of  Mexico 
to  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  In  this  latter  country,  which  is  now 
known  as  Central  America,  the  inhabitants,  aided  by  the  fertility 
of  the  soil,6  seem  to  have  worked  out  for  themselves  a  certain 
amount  of  knowledge  ;  since  the  ruins  still  extant  prove  the  pos- 
session of  a  mechanical  and  architectural  skill  too  considerable 


1  Kai  rovro  tKbfu^ov  fjLfv  fir  ereo  rpia,  Swxftvtoi  54  ol  irpofferera.x.o-ro  dvSpes  dywytes 
(Herodotus,  Book  II,  chap,  clxxv).    On  the  enormous  weight  of  the  stones  which 
the  Egyptians  sometimes  carried,  see  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  p.  379 ;  and  as  to  the 
machines  employed,  and  the  use  of  inclined  roads  for  the  transit,  see  Vyse  on 
the  Pyramids,  Vol.  I,  p.  197  ;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  14,  38. 

2  Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  I,  p.  70 ;  but  this  learned  writer  is  unwill- 
ing to  believe  a  statement  so  adverse  to  his  favorite  Egyptians.     It  is  likely 
enough  that  there  is  some  exaggeration ;  still  no  one  can  dispute  the  fact  of  an 
enormous  and  unprincipled  waste  of  human  life. 

8  Tpidxovra  /j-iv  yap  Kal  e£  fivpiddes  dvdpuv,  us  <£a<ri,  rats  r(av  tpywv  \firovpyiais 
irpo<rri$p(v<Tav,  TO  dt  irav  KaraffKeiiaff^w.  rfXos  fffxe  M^7ts  iruv  eticoffi  die\66vTuv  (Diod. 
Sic.,  Bibliothec.  Hist.,  Book  I,  chap.  Ixiii,  Vol.  I,  p.  188). 

4  "  When  compared  with  other  parts  of  the  New  World,  Mexico  and  Peru  may 
be  considered  as  polished  states"  (History  of  America,  Book  VII,  in  Robertson's 
Works,  p.  904).  See,  to  the  same  effect,  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  V, 

P-  355- 

6  Compare  Squier's  Central  America,  Vol.  I,  pp.  34,  244,  358,  421  ;  Vol.  II, 
p.  307,  with  Journal  of  Geograpical  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  59  ;  Vol.  VIII,  pp.  319, 323. 


222  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  be  acquired  by  any  nation  entirely  barbarous.1  Beyond  this 
nothing  is  known  of  their  history ;  but  the  accounts  we  have  of 
such  buildings  as  Copan,  Palenque,  and  Uxmal  make  it  highly 
probable  that  Central  America  was  the  ancient  seat  of  a  civiliza- 
tion in  all  essential  points  similar  to  those  of  India  and  Egypt ; 
that  is  to  say,  similar  to  them  in  respect  to  the  unequal  distribu- 
tion of  wealth  and  power,  and  the  thraldom  in  which  the  great 
body  of  the  people  consequently  remained.2 

But  although  the  evidence  from  which  we  might  estimate  the 
former  condition  of  Central  America  is  almost  entirely  lost,3  we 
are  more  fortunate  in  regard  to  the  histories  of  Mexico  and  Peru. 

1  Mr.  Squier  (Central  America,  Vol.  II,  p.  68),  who  explored  Nicaragua,  says 
of  the  statues,  "  The  material,  in  every  case,  is  a  black  basalt,  of  great  hardness, 
which,  with  the  best  of  modern  tools,  can  only  be  cut  with  difficulty."    Mr.  Stephens 
(Central  America,  Vol.  II,  p.  355)  found  at  Palenque  "elegant  specimens  of  art 
and  models  for  study."    See  also  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  276,  389,  406;  Vol.  IV,  p.  293. 
Of  the  paintings  at  Chichen  he  says  (Vol.  IV,  p.  311),  "They  exhibit  a  freedom 
of  touch  which  could  only  be  the  result  of  discipline  and  training  under  masters." 
At  Copan  (Vol.  I,  p.  151),  "it  would  be  impossible,  with  the  best  instruments  of 
modern  times,  to  cut  stones  more  perfectly."    And  at  Uxmal  (Vol.  II,  p.  431), 
"  Throughout,  the  laying  and  polishing  of  the  stones  are  as  perfect  as  under  the 
rules  of  the  best  modern  masonry."    Our  knowledge  of  Central  America  is  almost 
entirely  derived  from  these  two  writers ;  and  although  the  work  of  Mr.  Stephens 
is  much  the  more  minute,  Mr.  Squier  says  (Vol.  II,  p.  306)  what  I  believe  is  quite 
true,  that  until  the  appearance  of  his  own  book  in  1853,  the  monuments  in  Nica- 
ragua were  entirely  unknown.    Short  descriptions  of  the  remains  in  Guatemala 
and  Yucatan  will  be  found  in  Larenaudiere,  Mexique  et  Guatemala,  pp.  308-327, 
and  in  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  pp:  60-63. 

2  See   the   remarks  on  Yucatan  in  Prichard's  Physical  History  of  Mankind, 
Vol.V,  p.  348 :  "  A  great  and  industrious,  though  perhaps,  as  the  writer  above  cited 
(Gallatin)  observes,  an  enslaved  population.    Splendid  temples  and  palaces  attest 
the  power  of  the  priests  and  nobles,  while  as  usual  no  trace  remains  of  the  huts 
in  which  dwelt  the  mass  of  the  nation." 

8  Dr.  M'Culloh  (Researches  concerning  the  Aboriginal  History  of  America, 
pp.  272—340)  has  collected  from  the  Spanish  writers  some  meager  statements 
respecting  the  early  condition  of  Central  America ;  but  of  its  social  state  and  his- 
tory properly  so  called  nothing  is  known,  nor  is  it  even  certain  to  what  family  of 
nations  the  inhabitants  belonged,  though  a  recent  author  can  find  "  la  civilisation 
guatemalienne  ou  mistecozapoteque  et  mayaquiche  vivante  pour  nous  encore  dans 
les  ruines  de  Mitla  et  de  Palenque  "  (Mexique  et  Guatemala,  par  Larenaudiere, 
p.  8,  Paris,  1843).  Dr.  Prichard,  too,  refers  the  ruins  in  Central  America  to 
"  the  Mayan  race."  See  Prichard  on  Ethnology,  in  Report  of  British  Association 
for  1847,  p.  252.  But  the  evidence  for  these  and  similar  statements  is  very 
unsatisfactory. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       223 

There  are  still  existing  considerable  and  authentic  materials,  from 
which  we  may  form  an  opinion  on  the  ancient  state  of  those 
two  countries,  and  on  the  nature  and  extent  of  their  civilization. 
Before,  however,  entering  upon  this  subject,  it  will  be  convenient 
to  point  out  what  those  physical  laws  were  which  determined  the 
localities  of  American  civilization,  or,  in  other  words,  why  it  was 
that  in  these  countries  alone  society  should  have  been  organized 
into  a  fixed  and  settled  system,  while  the  rest  of  the  New  World 
was  peopled  by  wild  and  ignorant  barbarians.  Such  an  inquiry 
will  be  found  highly  interesting,  as  affording  further  proof  of 
the  extraordinary,  and  indeed  irresistible,  force  with  which  the 
powers  of  nature  have  controlled  the  fortunes  of  man. 

The  first  circumstance  by  which  we  must  be  struck  is  that 
in  America,  as  in  Asia  and  Africa,  all  the  original  civilizations 
were  seated  in  hot  countries;  the  whole  of  Peru  proper  being 
within  the  southern  tropic,  the  whole  of  Central  America  and 
Mexico  within  the  northern  tropic.  How  the  heat  of  the  climate 
operated  on  the  social  and  political  arrangements  of  India  and 
Egypt  I  have  attempted  to  examine,  and  it  has,  I  trust,  been 
proved  that  the  result  was  brought  about  by  diminishing  the 
wants  and  requirements  of  the  people,  and  thus  producing  a 
very  unequal  distribution  of  wealth  and  power.  But,  besides  this, 
there  is  another  way  in  which  the  average  temperature  of  a 
country  affects  its  civilization,  and  the  discussion  of  which  I  have 
reserved  for  the  present  moment,  because  it  may  be  more  clearly 
illustrated  in  America  than  elsewhere.  Indeed,  in  the  New  World 
the  scale  on  which  nature  works,  being  much  larger  than  in  the 
Old,  and  her  forces  being  more  overpowering,  it  is  evident  that 
her  operations  on  mankind  may  be  studied  with  greater  advan- 
tage than  in  countries  where  she  is  weaker,  and  where,  therefore, 
the  consequences  of  her  movements  are  less  conspicuous. 

If  the  reader  will  bear  in  mind  the  immense  influence  which  an 
abundant  national  food  has  been  shown  to  exercise,  he  will  easily 
understand  how,  owing  to  the  pressure  of  physical  phenomena, 
the  civilization  of  America  was,  of  necessity,  confined  to  those 
parts  where  alone  it  was  found  by  the  discoverers  of  the  New 
World.  For,  setting  aside  the  chemical  and  geognostic  varieties 


224 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


of  soil,  it  may  be  said  that  the  two  causes  which  regulate  the  fer- 
tility of*  every  country  are  heat  and  moisture.1  Where  these  are 
abundant,  the  land  will  be  exuberant ;  where  they  are  deficient, 
it  will  be  sterile.  This  rule  is,  of  course,  in  its  application  sub- 
ject to  exceptions,  arising  from  physical  conditions  which  are 
independent  of  it ;  but  if  other  things  are  equal,  the  rule  is  inva- 
riable. And  the  vast  additions  which,  since  the  construction  of 
isothermal  lines,  have  been  made  to  our  knowledge  of  geograph- 
ical botany,  enable  us  to  lay  this  down  as  a  law  of  nature,  proved 
not  only  by  arguments  drawn  from  vegetable  physiology  but 
also  by  a  careful  study  of  the  proportions  in  which  plants  are 
actually  distributed  in  different  countries.2 

A  general  survey  of  the  continent  of  America  will  illustrate 
the  connection  between  this  law  and  the  subject  now  before  us. 
In  the  first  place,  as  regards  moisture,  all  the  great  rivers  in  the 
New  World  are  on  the  eastern  coast,  none  of  them  on  the  west- 
ern. The  causes  of  this  remarkable  fact  are  unknown ; 3  but  it 

1  Respecting  the  connection  between  the  vegetable  productions  of  a  country 
and  its  geognostic  peculiarities,  little  is  yet  known;  but  the  reader  may  compare 
Meyen's  Geography  of  Plants,  p.  64,  with  Reports  on  Botany  by  the  Ray  Society, 
1846,  pp.  70,  71.    The  chemical  laws  of  soil  are  much  better  understood,  and  have 
a  direct  practical  bearing  on  the  use  of  manures.    See  Turner's  Chemistry,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  1310-1314;  Brande's  Chemistry,  Vol.  I,  p.  691 ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  1867-1869;  Bal- 
four's  Botany,  pp.   116-122;  Liebig  and  Kopp's  Reports,  Vol.  II,  pp.  315,  328; 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  463 ;  Vol.  IV,  pp.  438,  442,  446. 

2  As  to  the  influence  of  heat  and  moisture  on  the  geographical  distribution  of 
plants,  see  Henslow's  Botany,  pp.  295-300,  and  Balfour's  Botany,  pp.  560-563. 
Meyen  (Geography  of  Plants,  p.  263)  says,  "  I  therefore,  after  allowing  for  local 
circumstances,  bring  the  vegetation  of  islands  also  under  that  law  of  nature, 
according  to  which  the  number  of  species  constantly  increases  with  increasing 
heat  and  corresponding  humidity."    On  the  effect  of  temperature  alone,  compare 
a  note  in  Erman's  Siberia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  64,  65,  with  Reports  on  Botany  by  the  Ray 
Society,  pp.  339,  340.    In  the  latter  work  it  is  supposed  that  heat  is  the  most  im- 
portant of  all  single  agents;  and  though  this  is  probably  true,  still  the  influence 
of  humidity  is  immense.    I  may  mention,  as  an  instance  of  this,  that  it  has  been 
recently  ascertained  that  the  oxygen  used  by  seeds  during  germination  is  not 
always  taken  from  the  air,  but  is  obtained  by  decomposing  water.    See  the  curi- 
ous experiments  of  Edwards  and  Colin  in  Lindley's  Botany,  Vol.  II,  pp.  261,  262, 
London,  1848;  and  on  the  direct  nourishment  which  water  supplies  to  vegetables, 
see  Burdach's  great  work,  Traite  de  Physiologic,  Vol.  IX,  pp.  254,  398. 

8  There  is  a  difference  between  the  watersheds  of  the  eastern  and  western 
ranges, which  explains  this  in  part,  but  not  entirely;  and  even  if  the  explanation 
were  more  satisfactory  than  it  is,  it  is  too  proximate  to  the  phenomenon  to  have 
much  scientific  value,  and  must  itself  be  referred  to  higher  geological  considerations. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      225 

is  certain  that  neither  in  North  nor  in  South  America  does  one 
considerable  river  empty  itself  into  the  Pacific  ;  while  on  the 
opposite  side  there  are  numerous  rivers,  some  of  enormous 
magnitude,  all  of.  great  importance,  as,  the  Negro,  the  La  Plata, 
the  San  Francisco,  the  Amazon,  the  Orinoco,  the  Mississippi, 
the  Alabama,  the  St.  John,  the  Potomac,  the  Susquehanna,  the 
Delaware,  the  Hudson,  and  the  St.  Lawrence.  By  this ,  vast 
water  system  the  soil  is  towards  the  east  constantly  irrigated ; 1 
but  towards  the  west  there  is  in  North  America  only  one  river 
of  value,  the  Oregon  ; 2  while  in  South  America,  from  the  Isthmus 
of  Panama  to  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  there  is  no  great  river  at  all. 
But  as  to  the  other  main  cause  of  fertility,  namely,  heat,  we 
find  in  North  America  a  state  of  things  precisely  the  reverse. 
There  we  find  that  while  the  irrigation  is  on  the  east,  the  heat  is 
on  the  west.3  This  difference  of  temperature  between  the  two 
coasts  is  probably  connected  with  some  great  meteorological  law ; 
for  in  the  whole  of  the  northern  hemisphere  the  eastern  part  of 
continents  and  of  islands  is  colder  than  the  western.4  Whether, 

1  Of  this  irrigation  some  idea  may  be  formed  from  an  estimate  that  the  Ama- 
zon drains  an  area  of  2,500,000  square  miles,  that  its  mouth  is  ninety-six  miles 
wide,  and  that  it  is  navigable  2200  miles  from  its  mouth  (Somerville's  Physical 
Geography,  Vol.  I,  p.  423).    Indeed,  it  is  said  in  an  Essay  on  the  Hydrography  of 
South  America  (Jottrnal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  250),  that  "with  the 
exception  of  one  short  portage  of  three  miles,  water  flows,  and  is  for  the  most 
part  navigable,  between  Buenos  Ayres,  in  35°  south  latitude,  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Orinoco,  in  nearly  9°  north."    See  also,  on  this  river  system,  Vol.  V,  p.  93  ;  Vol.  X, 
p.  267.     In  regard  to  North  America,  Mr.  Rogers  (Geology  of  North  America, 
p.  8,  Report  of  British  Association  for  f8j<f)  says,  "The  area  drained  by  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  all  its  tributaries  is  computed  at  1,099,000  square  miles."    Compare 
Richardson's  Arctic  Expedition,  Vol.  II,  p.  164. 

2  The  Oregon,  or  Columbia,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  forms  a  remarkable 
botanical  line,  which  is  the  boundary  of  the  Californian  flora.    See  Reports  on 
Botany  by  the  Ray  Society,  p.  113. 

3  For  proof  that  the  mean  temperature  of  the  western  coast  of  North  America  is 
higher  than  that  of  the  eastern  coast,  see  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  IX, 
p.  380;  Vol.  XI,  pp.  168,  216;  Humboldt,  La  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  I,  pp.  42, 
336;  Richardson's  Arctic  Expedition,  Vol.  II,  pp.  214,  218,  219,  259,  260.    This 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  botanical  fact,  that  on  the  west  coast  the  Conifers  grow 
as  high  as  68°  or  70°  north  latitude  ;  while  on  the  east  their  northern  limit  is  60°. 
See  an  Essay  on  the   Morphology  of  the  Conifers,  in  Reports  on  Botany  by  the 
Ray  Society,  p.  8,  which  should  be  compared  with  Forry  on  the  Climate  of  the 
United  States  and  its  Endemic  Influences,  p.  89,  New  York,  1842. 

4  u  Writers  on  climate  have  remarked  that  the  eastern  coasts  of  continents 
in  the  northern  hemisphere  have  a  lower  mean  temperature  than  the  western 


226  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

however,  thfs  is  owing  to  some  large  and  comprehensive  cause, 
or  whether  each  instance  has  a  cause  peculiar  to  itself,  is  an 
alternative,  in  the  present  state  of  knowledge,  impossible  to 
decide ;  but  the  fact  is  unquestionable,  and  its  influence  upon  the 
early  history  of  America  is  extremely  curious.  In  consequence 
of  it,  the  two  great  conditions  of  fertility  have  not  been  united 
in  any  part  of  the  continent  north  of  Mexico.  The  countries  on 
the  one  side  have  wanted  heat ;  those  on  the  other  side  have 
wanted  irrigation.  The  accumulation  of  wealth  being  thus  im- 
peded, the  progress  of  society  was  stopped  ;  and  until,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  the  knowledge  of  Europe  was  brought  to  bear 
upon  America,  there  is  no  instance  of  any  people  north  of  the 
twentieth  parallel  reaching  even  that  imperfect  civilization  to 
which  the  inhabitants  of  India  and  of  Egypt  easily  attained.1 
On  the  other  hand,  south  of  the  twentieth  parallel  the  continent 
suddenly  changes  its  form,  and,  rapidly  contracting,  becomes  a 
small  strip  of  land,  until  it  reaches  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  This 
narrow  tract  was  the  center  of  Mexican  civilization  ;  and  a"  com- 
parison of  the  preceding  arguments  will  easily  show  why  such 
was  the  case,  for  the  peculiar  configuration  of  the  land  secured 
a  very  large  amount  of  coast,  and  thus  gave  to  the  southern 
part  of  North  America  the  character  of  an  island.  Hence  there 
arose  one  of  the  characteristics  of  an  insular  climate,  namely,  an 

coasts  "  (Richardson  on  North  American  Zoology,  p.  129,  Report  of  British  Associ- 
ation for  1836).  See  also  Report  for  1841,  p.  28;  Davis,  China,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  140, 
141  ;  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  XXII,  p.  176. 

1  The  little  that  is  known  of  the  early  state  of  the  North  American  tribes  has 
been  brought  together  by  Dr.  M'Culloh  in  his  learned  work,  Researches  concern- 
ing America,  pp.  119-146.  He  says  (p.  121)  that  they  "lived  together  without 
laws  and  civil  regulations."  In  that  part  of  the  world  the  population  has  prob- 
ably never  been  fixed ;  and  we  now  know  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  northeast  of 
Asia  have  at  different  times  passed  over  to  the  northwest  of  America,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Tschuktschi,  who  are  found  in  both  continents.  Indeed,  Dobell  was 
so  struck  by  the  similarity  between  the  North  American  tribes  and  some  he  met 
with  nearly  as  far  west  as  Tomsk  that  he  believed  their  origin  to  be  the  same. 
See  DobelPs  Travels  in  Kamchatka  and  Siberia,  1830,  Vol.  II,  p.  112.  And  on 
this  question  of  intercourse  between  the  two  continents,  compare  Crantz'  History 
of  Greenland,  Vol.  I,  pp.  259,  260,  with  Richardson's  Arctic  Expedition,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  362,  363,  and  Prichard's  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  458-463; 
Vol.  V,  pp.  371,  378. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      227 

increase  of  moisture,  caused  by  the  watery  vapor  which  springs 
from  the  sea.1  While,  therefore,  the  position  of  Mexico  near  the 
equator  gave  it  heat,  the  shape  of  the  land  gave  it  humidity ;  and 
this  being  the  only  part  of  North  America  in  which  these  two 
conditions  were  united,  it  was  likewise  the  only  part  which  was 
at  all  civilized.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  if  the  sandy  plains 
of  California  and  southern  Columbia,  instead  of  being  scorched 
into  sterility,  had  been  irrigated  by  the  rivers  of  the  east,  or  if 
the  rivers  of  the  east  had  been  accompanied  by  the  heat  of  the 
west,  the  result  of  either  combination  would  have  been  that 
exuberance  of  soil  by  which,  as  the  history  of  the  world  deci- 
sively proves,  every  early  civilization  was  preceded.  But  inasmuch 
as,  of  the  two  elements  of  fertility,  one  was  deficient  in  every 
part  of  America  north  of  the  twentieth  parallel,  it  followed  .that, 
until  that  line  was  passed,  civilization  could  gain  no  resting  place; 
and  there  never  has  been  found,  and  we  may  confidently  assert 
never  will  be  found,  any  evidence  that  even  a  single  ancient 
nation  in  the  whole  of  that  enormous  continent  was  able  to 
make  much  progress  in  the  arts  of  life,  or  organize  itself  into  a 
fixed  and  permanent  society. 

Thus  far  as  to  the  physical  agents  which  controlled  the  early 
destinies  of  North  America.  But  in  reference  to  South  America, 
a  different  train  of  circumstances  came  into  play;  for  the  law 
by  virtue  of  which  the  eastern  coasts  are  colder  than  the  west- 
ern is  not  only  inapplicable  to  the  southern  hemisphere  but  is 
replaced  by  another  law  precisely  the  reverse.  North  of  the 
equator  the  east  is  colder  than  the  west ;  south  of  the  equa- 
tor the  east  is  hotter  than  the  west.  If,  now,  we  connect  this 


1  From  general  physical  considerations  we  should  suppose  a  relation  between 
amount  of  rain  and  extent  of  coast  ;  and  in  Europe,  where  alone  we  have  exten- 
sive meteorological  records,  the  connection  has  been  proved  statistically.  "  If  the 
quantity  of  rain  that  falls  in  different  parts  of  Europe  is  measured,  it  is  found 
to  be  less,  other  things  being  equal,  as  we  recede  from  the  seashore  "  (Kaemtz* 
Meteorology,  1845,  P-  J39)-  Compare  pp.  91,  94.  Hence,  no  doubt,  the  greater 
rarity  of  rain  as  we  advance  north  from  Mexico.  "  Au  nord  du  20°,  surtout  depuis 
les  22°  au  30°  de  latitude,  les  pluies,  qui  ne  durent  que  pendant  les  mois  de  juin, 
de  juillet,  d'aofit  et  de  septembre,  sont  peu  frequentes  dans  1'interieur  du  pays" 
(Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  I,  p.  46). 


228  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

fact  with  what  has  been  noticed  respecting  the  vast  river  system 
which  distinguishes  the  east  of  America  from  the  west,  it 
becomes  evident  that  in  South  America  there  exists  that  cooper- 
ation of  heat  and  humidity  in  which  North  America  is  deficient. 
The  result  is,  that  the  soil  in  the  eastern  part  of  South  America 
is  remarkable  for  its  exuberance  not  only  within  the  tropic  but 
considerably  beyond  it ;  the  south  of  Brazil,  and  even  part  of 
Uruguay,  possessing  a  fertility  not  to  be  found  in  any  country 
of  North  America  situated  under  a  corresponding  latitude. 

On  a  hasty  view  of  the  preceding  generalizations  it  might  be 
expected  that  the  eastern  side  of  South  America,  being  thus 
richly  endowed  by  nature,1  would  have  been  the  seat  of  those 
civilizations  which,  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  similar  causes 
produced.  But  if  we  look  a  little  further,  we  shall  find  that  what 
has  just  been  pointed  out  by  no  means  exhausts  even  the  phys- 
ical bearings  of  this  subject,  and  that  we  must  take  into  consider- 
ation a  third  great  agent,  which  has  sufficed  to  neutralize  the 
natural  results  of  the  other  two,  and  to  retain  in  barbarism  the 
inhabitants  of  what  otherwise  would  have  been  the  most  flour- 
ishing of  all  the  countries  of  the  New  World. 

The  agent  to  which  I  allude  is  the  trade  wind,  —  a  striking  phe- 
nomenon, by  which,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  all  the  civilizations 
anterior  to  those  of  Europe  were  greatly  and  injuriously  influ- 
enced. This  wind  covers  no  less  than  56°  of  latitude,  —  28°  north 
of  the  equator  and  28°  south  of  it.2  In  this  large  tract,  which 
comprises  some  of  the  most  fertile  countries  in  the  world,  the 

1  Mr.  Darwin,  who  has  written  one  of  the  most  valuable  works  ever  published 
on  South  America,  was  struck  by  this  superiority  of  the  eastern  coast ;  and  he 
mentions  that  "  fruits  which  ripen  well  and  are  very  abundant,  such  as  the  grape 
and  fig,  in  latitude  41°  on  the  east  coast,  succeed  very  poorly  in  a  lower  latitude 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  continent  "  (Darwin's  Journal  of  Researches,  p.  268, 
London,  1840).    Compare  Meyen's  Geography  of  Plants,  pp.  25,  188.    So  that  the 
proposition  of  Daniell  (Meteorological  Essays,  p.  104,  sec.  xiv)  is  expressed  too 
generally,  and  should  be  confined  to  continents  north  of  the  equator. 

2  The  trade  winds  sometimes  reach  the  thirtieth  parallel.    See  Daniell's  Mete- 
orological Essays,  p.  469.    Dr.  Traill   (Physical   Geography,  p.  200,  Edinburgh, 
1838),  says,  "  They  extend  to  about  30°  on  each  side  of  the  equator."    But  I 
believe  they  are  rarely  found  so  high,  though  Robertson  is  certainly   wrong  in 
supposing  that  they  are  peculiar  to  the  tropics  (History  of  America,  Book  IV, 
in  Robertson's  Works,  p.  781). 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      229 

trade  wind  blows,  during  the  whole  year,  either  from  the  north- 
east.or  from  the  southeast.1  The  causes  of  this  regularity  are 
now  well  understood,  and  are  known  to  depend  partly  on  the  dis- 
placement of  air  at  the  equator,  and  partly  on  the  motion  of  the 
earth  ;  for  the  cold  air  from  the  poles  is  constantly  flowing 
towards  the  equator,  and  thus  producing  northerly  winds  in  the 
northern  hemisphere  and  southerly  winds  in  the  southern.  These 
winds  are,  however,  deflected  from  their  natural  course  by  the 
movement  of  the  earth,  as  it  revolves  on  its  axis  from  west  to 
east.  And  as  the  rotation  of  the  earth  is,  of  course,  more  rapid 
at  the  equator  than  elsewhere,  it  happens  that  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  equator  the  speed  is  so  great  as  to  outstrip  the  move- 
ments of  the  atmosphere  from  the  poles,  and  forcing  them  into 
another  direction,  gives  rise  to  those  easterly  currents  which  are 
called  trade  winds.2  What,  however,  we  are  now  rather  concerned 
with  is  not  so  much  an  explanation  of  the  trade  winds,  as  an 
account  of  the  way  in  which  this  great  physical  phenomenon  is 
connected  with  the  history  of  South  America. 

The  trade  wind,  blowing  on  the  eastern  coast  of  South  America, 
and  proceeding  from  the  east,  crosses  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  and 

1  "  In  the  northern  hemisphere  the  trade  wind  blows  from  the  northeast,  and 
in  the  southern  from  the    southeast "    (Meyen's   Geography  of  Plants,  p.  42). 
Compare  Walsh's  Brazil,  Vol.  I,  p.  112;  Vol.  II,  p.  494;    and  on  the  "tropical 
east  wind  "  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  see  Forry's  Climate  of  the  United  States,  p.  206. 
Dr.  Forry  says  that  it  has  given  to  the  growth  of  the  trees  "  ah  inclination  from 
the  sea." 

2  Respecting  the  Causes  of  the  trade  winds,  see  Somerville's  Connection  of  the 
Physical  Sciences,  pp.  136,   137;  Leslie's  Natural  Philosophy,  p.   518;  Daniell's 
Meteorological  Essays,  pp.  44,  102,  476-481;  Kaemtz'  Meteorology,  pp.  37-39; 
Prout's  Bridgewater  Treatise,  pp.  254—256.  The  discovery  of  the  true  theory  is  of  ten 
ascribed  to  Mr.  Daniell;  but  Hadley  was  the  real  discoverer.    See  note  in  Prout, 
p.  257.    The  monsoons,  which  popular  writers  frequently  confuse  with  the  trade 
winds,  are  said  to  be  caused  by  the  predominance  of  land,  and  by  the  difference 
between  its  temperature  and  that  of  the  sea.    See  Kaemtz,  pp.  42-45.    On  what 
may  be  called  the  conversion  of  the  trades  into  monsoons,  according  to  the  laws 
very  recently  promulgated  by  M.  Dove,  see  Report  of  British  Association  for  1847 
(Transactions  of  Sections,  p.  30),  and  Report  for  1848,  p.  94.    The  monsoons  are 
noticed  in  Humboldt's  Cosmos,  Vol.  II,  p.  485 ;  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  XVIII, 
Part  I,  p.  261  ;  Thirlwall's  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  VII,  pp.  13,  55 ;  Journal  of 
Geographical  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  90;  Vol.  IV,  pp.  8-9,   148,   149,   169;  Vol.  XI, 
p.  162;   Vol.  XV,  pp.  146-149;   Vol.   XVI,  p.  185;   Vol.   XVIII,   pp.  67,   68; 
Vol.  XXIII,  p.  112  ;  Low's  Sarawak,  pi  30. 


230  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

therefore  reaches  the  land  surcharged  with  the  vapors  accumu- 
lated in  its  passage.  These  vapors,  on  touching  the  shore,  are, 
at  periodical  intervals,  condensed  into  rain  ;  and  as  their  progress 
westward  is  checked  by  that  gigantic  chain  of  the  Andes,  which 
they  are  unable  to  pass,1  they  pour  the  whole  of  their  moisture 
on  Brazil,  which,  in  consequence,  is  often  deluged  by  the  most 
destructive  torrents.2  This  abundant  supply,  being  aided  by  that 
vast  river  system  peculiar  to  the  eastern  part  of  America,  and 
being  also  accompanied  by  heat,  has  stimulated  the  soil  into  an 
activity  unequaled  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.3  Brazil,  which 
is  nearly  as  large  as  the  whole  of  Europe,  is  covered  with  a  vege- 
tation of  incredible  profusion.  Indeed,  so  rank  and  luxuriant  is 
the  growth  that  nature  seems  to  riot  in  the  very  wantonness  of 
power.  A  great  part  of  this  immense  country  is  filled  with  dense 
and  tangled  forests,  whose  noble  trees,  blossoming  in  unrivaled 
beauty,  and  exquisite  with  a  thousand  hues,  throw  out  their  pro- 
duce in  endless  prodigality.  On  their  summit  are  perched  birds 
of  gorgeous  plumage,  which  nestle  in  their  dark  and  lofty 
recesses.  Below,  their  base  and  trunks  are  crowded  with  brush- 
wood, creeping  plants,  innumerable  parasites,  all  swarming  with 
life.  There,  too,  are  myriads  of  insects  of  every  variety  ;  reptiles 

1  Lyell's  Principles  of  Geology,  pp.  201,  714,  715;  see  also  Somerville's  Phys- 
ical Geography,  Vol.  II,  p.  71.    And  on  this  confining  power  of  the  Cordillera  of 
the  Andes,  see  Azara,   Voyages  dans    1'Amerique    Meridionale,   Vol.   I,   p.  33. 
According  to  Dr.   Tschudi,  the  eastern  chain  is   properly  the   Andes,   and  the 
western  the  Cordilleras ;  but  this  distinction  is  rarely  made  (Tschudi's  Travels  in 
Peru,  p.  290). 

2  On  the  rain  of  Brazil,  see  Daniell's  Meteorological  Essays,  p.  335 ;  Darwin's 
Journal,  pp.  n,  33;  Spix  and  Martius'  Travels  in  Brazil,  Vol.  II,  p.  113;  Gard- 
ner's Travels  in  Brazil,  pp^S3,  99,  114,  175,  233,  394. 

8  Dr.  Gardner,  who  looked  at  these  things  with  the  eye  of  a  botanist,  says  that 
near  Rio  de  Janeiro  the  heat  and  moisture  are  sufficient  to  compensate  even  the 
poorest  soil,  so  that  "  rocks,  on  which  scarcely  a  trace  of  earth  is  to  be  observed, 
are  covered  with  vellozias,  tillandsias,  melastomaceae,  cacti,  orchideae,  and  ferns, 
and  all  in  the  vigor  of  life"  (Gardner's  Travels  in  Brazil,  p.  9).  See  also  on  this 
combination  (Walsh's  Brazil,  Vol.  II,  pp.  297,  298),  a  curious  description  of  the 
rainy  season  :  "  For  eight  or  nine  hours  a  day,  during  some  weeks,  I  never  had  a 
dry  shirt  on  me ;  and  the  clothes  I  divested  myself  of  at  night  I  put  on  quite  wet 
in  the  morning.  When  it  did  not  rain,  which  was  very  rare,  there  shone  out  in 
some  places  a  burning  sun ;  and  we  went  smoking  along,  the  wet  exhaling  by  the 
heat  as  if  we  were  dissolving  into  vapor." 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS 


231 


of  strange  and  singular  form ;  serpents  and  lizards,  spotted 
with  deadly  beauty,  —  all  of  which  find  means  of  existence  in 
this  vast  workshop  and  repository  of  nature.  And  that  nothing 
may  be  wanting  to  this  land  of  marvels,  the  forests  are  skirted 
by  enormous  meadows,  which,  reeking  with  heat  and  mois- 
ture, supply  nourishment  to  countless  herds  of  wild  cattle  that 
browse  and  fatten  on  their  herbage  ;  while  the  adjoining  plains, 
rich  in  another  form  of  life,  are  the  chosen  abode  of  the  subt- 
lest and  most  ferocious  animals,  which  prey  on  each  other,  but 
which  it  might  almost  seem  no  human  power  can  hope  to 
extirpate.1 

Such  is  the  flow  and  abundance  of  life  by  which  Brazil  is 
marked  above  all  the  other  countries  of  the  earth.2  But  amid 
this  pomp  and  splendor  of  nature  no  place  is  left  for  man.  He 
is  reduced  to  insignificance  by  the  majesty  with  which  he  is  sur- 
rounded. The  forces  that  oppose  him  are  so  formidable  that  he 
has  never  been  able  to  make  head  against  them,  never  able  to 
rally  against  their  accumulated  pressure.  The  whole  of  Brazil, 
notwithstanding  its  immense  apparent  advantages,  has  always 
remained  entirely  uncivilized, — its  inhabitants  wandering  savages, 
incompetent  to  resist  those  obstacles  which  the  very  bounty  of 
nature  had  put  in  their  way.  For  the  natives,  like  every  people 

1  On  the  natural  history  of  Brazil  I  have  compared  a  few  notices  in  Swainson's' 
Geography  of  Animals,  pp.  75-87,  with  Cuvier,  Regne  Animal,  Vol.  I,  p.  460; 
Vol.  II,  pp.  28,  65,  66,  89;  Vol.  IV,  pp.  51,  75,  258,  320,  394,  485,  561 ;   Vol.  V, 
pp.  40,  195,  272,  334,  553;  Azara,  Amerique  Meridionale,  Vol.  I,  pp.  244-388,  and 
the  greater  part  of  Vols.  Ill  and  IV ;  Winckler,  Geschichte  der  Botanik,  pp.  378, 
576-578;    Southey's   History  of   Brazil,  Vol.  I,  p.   27;    Vol.  Ill,  pp.  315,  823; 
Gardner's  Brazil,  pp.  18,  32-34,  41-44,  131,  330;  Spix  and  Martius'  Brazil,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  207-209,  238-248  ;   Vol.  II,  pp.  131,   160-163.    And  as  to  the  forests,  which 
are  among  the  wonders  of  the  world,  see  Somerville's  Physical  Geography,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  204-206;  Prichard's    Physical   History,  Vol.  V,  p.   497;    Darwin's   Journal, 
pp.  ii,  24;  Walsh's  Brazil,  Vol.  I,  p.  145;  Vol.  II,  pp.  29,  30,  253. 

2  This  extraordinary  richness  has  excited  the  astonishment  of  all  who  have 
seen  it.     Mr.  Walsh,  who   has  traveled  in  some  very  fertile  countries,  mentions 
"  the  exceeding  fecundity  of  nature  which  characterizes  Brazil "  (Walsh's  Brazil, 
Vol.  II,  p.  19).    And  a  very  eminent  naturalist,  Mr.  Darwin,  says  (Journal,  p.  29), 
"  In  England,   any  person  fond  of  natural  history  enjoys  in  his  walks  a  great 
advantage,  by  always  having  something  to  attract  his  attention ;  but  in  these 
fertile  climates,  teeming  with  life,  the  attractions  are  so  numerous  that  he  is 
scarcely  able  to  walk  at  all." 


232  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

in  the  infancy  of  society,  are  averse  to  enterprise ;  and  being 
unacquainted  with  the  arts  by  which  physical  impediments  are 
removed,  they  have  never  attempted  to  grapple  with  the  diffi- 
culties that  stopped  their  social  progress.  Indeed,  those  difficulties 
are  so  serious  that  during  more  than  three  hundred  years  the 
resources  of  European  knowledge  have  been  vainly  employed  in 
endeavoring  to  get  rid  of  them.  Along  the  coast  of  Brazil  there 
has  been  introduced  from  Europe  a  certain  amount  of  that  civili- 
zation which  the  natives  by  their  own  efforts  could  never  have 
reached.  But  such  civilization,  in  itself  very  imperfect,  has  never 
penetrated  the  recesses  of  the  country  ;  and  in  the  interior  there 
is  still  found  a  state  of  things  similar  to  that  which  has  always 
existed.  The  people,  ignorant,  and  therefore  brutal,  practicing 
no  restraint  and  recognizing  no  law,  continue  to  live  on  in  their 
old  and  inveterate  barbarism.1  In  their  country  the  physical 
causes  are  so  active,  and  do  their  work  on  a  scale  of  such  unri- 
valed magnitude,  that  it  has  hitherto  been  found  impossible  to 
escape  from  the  effects  of  their  united  action.  The  progress  of 
agriculture  is  stopped  by  impassable  forests,  and  the  harvests  are 
destroyed  by  innumerable  insects.2  The  mountains  are  too  high 
to  scale  ;  the  rivers  are  too  wide  to  bridge  ;  everything  is  contrived 

1  Azara  (Amerique  Meridionale,  Vol.  II,  pp.  1-168)  gives  a  curious  but  occa- 
sionally a  disgusting  account  of  the  savage  natives  in  that  part  of  Brazil  south  of 
1 6°,  to  which  his  observations  were  limited.    And  as  to  the  inhabitants  of  other 
parts,  see  Henderson's  History  of  Brazil,  pp.  28,  29,   107,   173,  248,  315,  473; 
M'Culloh's  Researches  concerning  America,  p.  77  ;  and  the  more  recent  account 
of  Dr.  Martius,  in  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  II,  pp.  191-199.     Even  in 
1817  it  was  rare  to  see  a  native  in  Rio  de  Janeiro  (Spix  and  Martius'  Travels  in 
Brazil,  Vol.  I,  p.  142);  and  Dr.  Gardner  (Travels  in  Brazil,  pp.  61,62)  says  that 
"more  than  one  nation  of  Indians  in  Brazil"  have  returned  to  that  savage  life 
from  which  they  had  apparently  been  reclaimed. 

2  Sir  C.  Lyell  (Principles  of  Geology,  p.  682)  notices  "the  incredible  number 
of  insects  which  lay  waste  the  crops  in  Brazil";  and  Mr.  Swainson,  who  had  trav- 
eled in  that  country,  says,  "  The  red  ants  of  Brazil  are  so  destructive,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  prolific,  that  they  frequently  dispute  possession  of  the  ground  with 
the  husbandman,  defy  all  his  skill  to  extirpate  their  colonies,  and  fairly  compel 
him  to  leave  his  fields  uncultivated  "  (Swainson  on  the  Geography  and  Classifi- 
cation of  Animals,  p.  87).    See  more  about  these  insects  in  Darwin's  Journal, 
pp.  37-43;  Southey's  History  of  Brazil,  Vol.  I,  pp.  144,  256,  333~335>343;  Vol.  II, 
pp.  365,  642 ;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  876;  Spix  and  Martius'  Travels  in  Brazil,  Vol.  I,  p.  259; 
Vol.  II,  p.  117;  Cuvier,  Regne  Animal,  Vol.  IV,  p.  320. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      233 

to  keep  back  the  human  mind  and  repress  its  rising  ambition. 
It  is  thus  that  the  energies  of  nature  have  hampered  the  spirit 
of  man.  Nowhere  else  is  there  so  painful  a  contrast  between  the 
grandeur  of  the  external  world  and  the  littleness  of  the  internal. 
And  the  mind,  cowed  by  this  unequal  struggle,  has  not  only  been 
unable  to  advance,  but  without  foreign  aid  it  would  undoubtedly 
have  receded.  For  even  at  present,  with  all  the  improvements 
constantly  introduced  from  Europe,  there  are  no  signs  of  real 
progress  ;  while  notwithstanding  the  frequency  of  colonial  settle- 
ments, less  than  one  fiftieth  of  the  land  is  cultivated.1  The  habits 
of  the  people  are  as  barbarous  as  ever ;  and  as  to  their  numbers, 
it  is  well  worthy  of  remark  that  Brazil,  the  country  where,  of  all 
others,  physical  resources  are  most  powerful,  where  both  vege- 
tables and  animals  are  most  abundant,  where  the  soil  is  watered 
by  the  noblest  rivers,  and  the  coast  studded  by  the  finest  harbors, 
—  this  immense  territory,  which  is  more  than  twelve  times  the 
size  of  France,  contains  a  population  not  exceeding  six  millions 
of  people.2 

These  considerations  sufficiently  explain  why  it  is  that  in  the 
whole  of  Brazil  there  are  no  monuments  even  of  the  most  imper- 
fect civilization  ;  no  evidence  that  the  people  had,  at  any  period, 
raised  themselves  above  the  state  in  which  they  were  found  when 
their  country  was  first  discovered.  But  immediately  opposite  to 
Brazil  there  is  another  country,  which,  though  situated  in  the 
same  continent  and  lying  under  the  same  latitude,  is  subjected 
to  different  physical  conditions,  and  therefore  was  the  scene  of 
different  social  results.  This  is  the  celebrated  kingdom  of  Peru, 

1  The  cultivated  land  is  estimated  at  from  i£  to  2  per  cent.  See  M'Culloch's 
Geographical  Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  I,  p.  430. 

*  During  the  present  century  the  population  of  Brazil  has  been  differently 
stated  at  different  times,  the  highest  computation  being  seven  million,  and  the 
lowest  four  million.  Compare  Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  II,  p.  855; 
Gardner's  Brazil,  p.  12;  M'Culloch's  Geographical  Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  430,  434.  Mr.  Walsh  describes  Brazil  as  "  abounding  in  lands  of  the  most 
exuberant  fertility,  but  nearly  destitute  of  inhabitants"  (Walsh's  Brazil,  Vol.  I, 
p.  248).  This  was  in  1828  and  1829,  since  which  the  European  population  has 
increased ;  but,  on  the  whole,  six  million  seems  to  be  a  fair  estimate  of  what  can 
only  be  known  approximately.  In  Alison's  History,  Vol.  X,  p.  229,  the  number 
given  is  five  million,  but  the  area  also  is  rather  understated. 


234  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

which  included  the  whole  of  the  southern  tropic,  and  which,  from 
the  circumstances  just  stated,  was  naturally  the  only  part  of 
South  America  where  anything  approaching  to  civilization  could 
be  attained.  In  Brazil  the  heat  of  the  climate  was  accompanied 
by  a  twofold  irrigation,  arising  first,  from  the  immense  river 
system  incidental  to  the  eastern  coast ;  and  secondly,  from  the 
abundant  moisture  deposited  by  the  trade  winds.  From  this  com- 
bination there  resulted  that  unequaled  fertility  which,  so  far  as 
man  was  concerned,  defeated  its  own  ends,  stopping  his  prog- 
ress by  an  exuberance  which,  had  it  been  less  excessive,  it  would 
have  aided.  For,  as  we  have  clearly  seen,  when  the  productive 
powers  of  nature  are  carried  beyond  a  certain  point,  the  imper- 
fect knowledge  of  uncivilized  men  is  unable  to  cope  with  them, 
or  in  any  way  turn  them  to  their  own  advantage.  If,  however, 
those  powers,  being  very  active,  are  nevertheless  confined  within 
manageable  limits,  there  arises  a  state  of  things  similar  to  that 
noticed  in  Asia  and  Africa,  where  the  profusion  of  nature,  instead 
of  hindering  social  progress,  favored  it,  by  encouraging  that 
accumulation  of  wealth,  without  some  share  of  which  progress 
is  impossible. 

In  estimating,  therefore,  the  physical  conditions  by  which  civ- 
ilization was  originally  determined,  we  have  to  look,  not  merely 
at  the  exuberance,  but  also  at  what  may  be  called  the  manage- 
ability of  nature ;  that  is,  we  have  to  consider  the  ease  with 
which  the  resources  may  be  used  as  well  as  the  number  of  the 
resources  themselves.  Applying  this  to  Mexico  and  Peru,  we 
find  that  they  were  the  countries  of  America  where  this  combi- 
nation most  happily  occurred.  For  though  their  resources  were 
much  less  numerous  than  those  of  Brazil,  they  were  far  more 
easy  to  control,  while  at  the  same  time  the  heat  of  the  climate 
brought  into  play  those  other  laws  by  which,  as  I  have  attempted 
to  show,  all  the  early  civilizations  were  greatly  influenced.  It  is 
a  very  remarkable  fact,  which,  I  believe,  has  never  been  observed, 
that  even  in  reference  to  latitude  the  present  limit  of  Peru  to 
the  south  corresponds  with  the  ancient  limit  of  Mexico  to  the 
north ;  while,  by  a  striking  but  to  me  perfectly  natural  coinci 
dence,  both  these  boundaries  are  reached  before  the  tropical  line 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS 


235 


is  passed,  the  boundary  of  Mexico  being  21°  north  latitude,  that 
of  Peru  21^°  south  latitude.1 

Such  is  the  wonderful  regularity  which  history,  when  com- 
prehensively studied,  presents  to  our  view.  And  if  we  compare 
Mexico  and  Peru  with  those  countries  of  the  Old  World  which 
have  been  already  noticed,  we  shall  find,  as  in  all  the  civilizations 
anterior  to  those  of  Europe,  that  their  social  phenomena  were 
subordinate  to  their  physical  laws.  In  the  first  place,  the  char- 
acteristics of  their  national  food  were  precisely  those  met  with  in 
the  most  flourishing  parts  of  Asia  and  Africa.  For  although  few 
of  the  nutritious  vegetables  belonging  to  the  Old  World  were 
found  in  the  New,  their  place  was  supplied  by  others  exactly 
analogous  to  rice  and  dates, — that  is  to  say,  marked  by  the  same 
abundance,  by  the  same  facility  of  growth,  and  by  the  same 
exuberant  returns,  therefore  followed  by  the  same  social  results. 
In  Mexico  and  Peru  one  of  the  most  important  articles  of  food 
has  always  been  maize,  which  we  have  every  reason  to  believe 
was  peculiar  to  the  American  continent.2  This,  like  rice  and  dates, 
is  eminently  the  product  of  a  hot  climate  ;  and  although  it  is 
said  to  grow  at  an  elevation  of  upwards  of  seven  thousand  feet,3 

1  Vidica  being  the  most  southerly  point  of  the  present  Peruvian  coast;  though 
the  conquests  of  Peru,  incorporated  with  the  empire,  extended  far  into  Chili,  and 
within  a  few  degrees  of  Patagonia.    In  regard  to  Mexico,  the  northern  limit  of  the 
empire  was  21°  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  19°  on  the  Pacific  (Prescott's   History 
of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  2). 

2  A  question  has  been  raised  as  to  the  Asiatic  origin  of  maize  (Reynier,  Econo- 
mic des  Arabes,  pp.  94,  95).    But  later  and  more  careful  researches  seem  to  have 
ascertained  beyond  much  doubt  that  it  was  unknown  before  America  was  discov- 
ered.   Compare  Meyen's  Geography  of  Plants,  pp.  44,  303,  304;  Walckenaer's 
note  in  Azara,  Amerique  Meridionale,  Vol.  I,  p.  149  ;  Cuvier,  Progres  des  Sciences 
Naturelles,  Vol.  II,  p.  354;  Cuvier,  Eloges  Historiques,  Vol.  II,  p.  178;  Loudon's 
Encyclopaedia  of  Agriculture,  p.  829;  M'Culloch's  Dictionary  of  Commerce,  1849, 
p.  831.    The  casual  notices  of  maize  by  Ixtlilxochitl,  the  native  Mexican  historian, 
shows  its  general  use  as  an  article  of  food  before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards.    See 
Ixtlilxochitl,  Histoire  des  Chichimeques,  Vol.  I,  pp.  53,  64,  240;  Vol.  II,  p.  19. 

3  "  Maize,  indeed,  grows  to  the  height  of  seventy-two  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  but  only  predominates  between  three  thousand  and  six  thousand 
of  elevation"  (Lindley's  Vegetable  Kingdom,  1847,  p.  112).     This  refers  to  the 
tropical  parts  of  South  America;  but  the  Zea  Mais  is  said  to  have  been  raised  on 
the  slopes  of  the  Pyrenees  "  at  an  elevation  of  three  thousand  to  four  thousand 
feet."    See  Austen  on  the  Forty  Days'  Maize,  in  Report  of  British  Association  for 
1849,  Transactions  of  Sections,  p.  68. 


236  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

it  is  rarely  seen  beyond  the  fortieth  parallel,1  and  its  exuberance 
rapidly  diminishes  with  the  diminution  of  temperature.  Thus,  for 
example,  in  New  California  its  average  yield  is  seventy  or  eighty 
fold  ; 2  but  in  Mexico  proper  the  same  grain  yields  three  or  four 
hundred  fold,  and,  under  very  favorable  circumstances,  even 
eight  hundred  fold.3 

A  people  who  derived  their  sustenance  from  a  plant  of  such 
extraordinary  fecundity  had  little  need  to  exercise  their  indus- 
trious energies  ;  while  at  the  same  time  \hey  had  every  opportu- 
nity of  increasing  their  numbers,  and  thus  producing  a  train  of 
social  and  political  consequences  similar  to  those  which  I  have 
noticed  in  India  and  in  Egypt.  Besides  this,  there  were,  in  addi- 
tion to  maize,  other  kinds  of  food  to  which  the  same  remarks  are 
applicable.  The  potato,  which  in  Ireland  has  brought  about  such 
injurious  effects  by  stimulating  the  growth  of  population,  is  said 
to  be  indigenous  to  Peru  ;  and  although  this  is  denied  by  a  very 
high  authority,4  there  is,  at  all  events,  no  doubt  that  it  was  found 
there  in  great  abundance  when  the  country  was  first  discovered 

1  M.  Meyen  (Geography  of  Plants,  p.  302)  and  Mr.  Balfour  (Botany,  p.  567) 
suppose  that  in  America  40°  is  about  its  limit;  and  this  is  the  case  in  regard 
to  its  extensive  cultivation ;  but  it  is  grown  certainly  as  high  as  52°,  perhaps  as 
high  as  54°,  north  latitude.    See  Richardson's  Arctic  Expedition,  1851,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  49,  224. 

2  "Sous  la  zone  temperee,  entre  les  336  et  38^  degres  de  latitude,  par  exemple 
dans  la  Nouvelle  Californie,  le  ma'is  ne  produit,  en  general,  annee  commune,  que 
70  a  80  grains  pour  un"  (Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  II,  p.  375). 

8  "  La  fecondite  du  Tlaolli,  ou  mai's  mexicain,  est  au-dela  de  tout  ce  que  Ton  peut 
imaginer  en  Europe.  La  plante,  favorisee  par  de  fortes  chaleurs  et  par  beaucoup 
d'humidite,  acquiert  une  hauteur  de  deux  a  trois  metres.  Dans  les  belles  plaines 
qui  s'etendent  depuis  San  Juan  del  Rio  a  Queretaro,  par  exemple  dans  les  terres 
de  la  grande  metairie  de  1'Esperanza,  une  fanegue  de  ma'is  en  produit  quelquefois 
huit  cents.  Des  terrains  fertiles  en  donnent,  annee  commune,  trois  a  quatre  cents  " 
(Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  II,  p.  374).  Nearly  the  same  estimate  is  given 
by  Mr.  Ward.  See  Ward's  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  32  ;  Vol.  II,  p.  230.  In  Central 
America  (Guatemala)  maize  returns  three  hundred  for  one  (Mexique  et  Guate- 
mala, par  Larenaudiere,  p.  257). 

4  "  La  pomme  de  terre  n'est  pas  indigene  au  Perou"  (Humboldt,  Nouvelle 
Espagne,  Vol.  II,  p.  400).  On  the  other  hand,  Cuvier  (Histoire  des  Sciences  Natu- 
relles,  Part  II,  p.  185)  peremptorily  says,  "II  est  impossible  de  douter  qu'elle  ne 
soit  originaire  du  Perou."  See  also  his  filoges  Historiques,  Vol.  II,  p.  171.  Com- 
pare Winckler,  Gesch".  der  Botanik,  p.  92 :  "  Von  einem  -gewissen  Carate  unter  den 
Gewachsen  Peru's  mit  dem  Namen  papas  aufgefiihrt." 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS 


237 


by  the  Europeans.1  In  Mexico  potatoes  were  unknown  till  the 
arrival  of  the  Spaniards ;  but  both  Mexicans  and  Peruvians  lived 
to  a  great  extent  on  the  produce  of  the  banana,  —  a  vegetable 
whose  reproductive  powers  are  so  extraordinary  that  nothing  but 
the  precise  and  unimpeachable  testimony  of  which  we  are  pos- 
sessed could  make  them  at  all  credible.  This  remarkable  plant 
is,  in  America,  intimately  connected  with  the  physical  laws  of 
climate,  since  it  is  an  article  of  primary  importance  for  the  sub- 
sistence of  man  whenever  the  temperature  passes  a  certain  point.2 
Of  its  nutritive  powers  it  is  enough  to  say  that  an  acre  sown 
with  it  will  support  more  than  fifty  persons ;  whereas  the  same 
amount  of  land  sown  with  wheat  in  Europe  will  only  support  two 
persons.3  As  to  the  exuberance  of  its  growth,  it  is  calculated 
that,  other  circumstances  remaining  the  same,  its  produce  is 
forty-four  times  greater  than  that  of  potatoes,  and  a  hundred  and 
thirty-three  times  greater  than  that  of  wheat.4 

It  will  now  be  easily  understood  why  it  was  that,  in  all  impor- 
tant respects,  the  civilizations  of  Mexico  and  Peru  were  strictly 
analogous  to  those  of  India  and  Egypt.  In  these  four  countries, 
as  well  as  in  a  few  others  in  southern  Asia  and  Central  America, 
there  existed  an  amount  of  knowledge,  despicable  indeed  if  tried 

1  And  has  been  used  ever  since  for  food.    On  the  Peruvian  potato,  compare 
Tschudi's  Travels  in  Peru,  pp.  178,  368,  386;  Ulloa's  Voyage  to  South  America, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  287,   288.    In  southern  Peru,  at  the  height  of  thirteen  thousand  or 
fourteen  thousand  feet,   a  curious  process  takes  place,  the  starch  of  the  potato 
being  frozen  into  saccharine.    See  a  valuable  paper  by  Mr.  Bollaert  in  Journal 
of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  XXI,  p.  119. 

2  Humboldt  (Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  II,  p.  359)  says,  "  Partout  ou  la  chaleur 
moyenne  de  1'annee  excede  vingt-quatre  degres  centigrades,  le  fruit  du  bananier 
est  un  objet  de  culture  du  plus  grand  interet  pour  la  subsistance  de  1'homme." 
Compare  Bullock's  Mexico,  p.  281. 

8  M'Culloch's  Geographical  Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  II,  p.  315. 

*  "  Je  doute  qu'il  existe  une  autre  plante  sur  le  globe,  qui,  sur  un  petit  espace 
de  terrain,  puisse  produire  une  masse  de  substance  nourrissante  aussi  conside- 
rable." .  .  .  "  Le  produit  des  bananes  est  par  consequent  a  celui  du  froment  comme 
133  :  i  —  k  celui  des  pommes  de  terre  comme  44  :  I  "  (Humboldt,  Nouvelle 
Espagne,  Vol.  II,  pp.  362,  363).  See  also  Prout's  Bridgewater  Treatise,  p.  333, 
edit.  1845;  Prescott's  Peru,  Vol.  I,  pp.  131,  132;  Prescott's  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  114. 
Earlier  notices,  but  very  imperfect  ones,  of  this  remarkable  vegetable  may  be 
found  in  Ulloa's  South  America,  Vol.  I,  p.  74;  and  in  Boyle's  Works,  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  590. 


238  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

by  an  European  standard,  but  most  remarkable  if  contrasted  with 
the  gross  ignorance  which  prevailed  among  the  adjoining  and 
contemporary  nations.  But  in  all  of  them  there  was  the  same 
inability  to  diffuse  even  that  scanty  civilization  which  they  really 
possessed ;  there  was  the  same  utter  absence  of  anything  approach- 
ing to  the  democratic  spirit  ;  there  was  the  same  despotic  power 
on  the  part  of  the  upper  classes,  and  the  same  contemptible  sub- 
servience on  the  part  of  the  lower.  For,  as  we  have  clearly  seen, 
all  these  civilizations  were  affected  by  certain  physical  causes, 
which,  though  favorable  to  the  accumulation  of  wealth,  were 
unfavorable  to  a  just  subdivision  of  it.  And  as  the  knowledge  of 
men  was  still  in  its  infancy,1  it  was  found  impossible  to  struggle 
against  these  physical  agents,  or  prevent  them  from  producing 
those  effects  on  the  social  organization  which  I  have  attempted 
to  trace.  Both  in  Mexico  and  in  Peru  the  arts,  and  particularly 
those  branches  of  them  which  minister  to  the  luxury  of  the 
wealthy  classes,  were  cultivated  with  great  success.  The  houses 
of  the  higher  ranks  were  rilled  with  ornaments  and  utensils  of 
admirable  workmanship  ;  their  chambers  were  hung  with  splendid 
tapestries  ;  their  dresses  and  their  personal  decorations  betrayed 
an  almost  incredible  expense ;  their  jewels  were  of  exquisite  and 
varied  form ;  their  rich  and  flowing  robes  embroidered  with  the 
rarest  feathers,  collected  from  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  empire, 
—  all  supplying  evidence  of  the  possession  of  unlimited  wealth, 
and  of  the  ostentatious  prodigality  with  which  that  wealth  was 
wasted.2  Immediately  below  this  class  came  the  people ;  and 

1  The  only  science  with  which  they  had  much  acquaintance  was  astronomy, 
which  the  Mexicans  appear  to  have  cultivated  with  considerable  success.    Com- 
pare the  remark  of  La  Place,  in  Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  I,  p.  92,  with 
Prichard's  Physical  History,  Vol.  V,  pp.  323,  329;  M'Culloh's  Researches,  pp.  201- 
225;  Larenaudiere's  Mexique,  pp.  51,  52;   Humboldt's  Cosmos,  Vol.  IV,  p.  456; 
Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  VII,  p.  3.     However,  their  astronomy,  as 
might  be  expected,  was  accompanied  by  astrology.    See  Ixtlilxochitl,  Histoire  des 
Chichimeques,  Vol.  I,  p.  168;  Vol.  II,  p.  94,  in. 

2  The  works  of  art  produced  by  the  Mexicans  and  Peruvians  are  underrated 
by  Robertson,  who,  however,  admits  that  he  had  never  seen  them  (History  of 
America,  Book  VII,  in  Robertson's  Works,  pp.  909,  920).    But  during  the  present 
century  considerable  attention  has  been  paid  to  this  subject;  and  in  addition  to 
the  evidence  of  skill  and  costly  extravagance  collected  by  Mr.  Prescott  (History 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      239 

what  their  condition  was  may  be  easily  imagined.  In  Peru  the 
whole  of  the  taxes  were  paid  by  them,  the  nobles  and  the  clergy 
being  altogether  exempt.1  But  as  in  such  a  state  of  society  it 
was  impossible  for  the  people  to  accumulate  property,  they  were 
obliged  to  defray  the  expenses  of  government  by  their  personal 
labor,  which  was  placed  under  the  entire  command  of  the  state.2 
At  the  same  time  the  rulers  of  the  country  were  well  aware  that, 
with  a  system  like  this,  feelings  of  personal  independence  were 
incompatible ;  they  therefore  contrived  laws  by  which,  even  in 
the  most  minute  matters,  freedom  of  action  was  controlled.  The 
people  were  so  shackled  that  they  could  neither  change  their 
residence  nor  alter  their  clothes  without  permission  from  the  gov- 
erning powers.  To  each  man  the  law  prescribed  the  trade  he 
was  to  follow,  the  dress  he  was  to  wear,  the  wife  he  was  to  marry, 
and  the  amusements  he  was  to  enjoy.3  Among  the  Mexicans  the 


of  Peru,  Vol.  I,  pp.  28,  142;  History  of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  pp.  27,  28,  122,  256,  270, 
307;  Vol.  II,  pp.  115,  116),  I  may  refer  to  the  testimony  of  M.  Humboldt,  the 
only  traveler  in  the  New  World  who  has  possessed  a  competent  amount  of  phys- 
ical as  well  as  historical  knowledge  (Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  II,  p.  483, 
and  elsewhere).  Compare  Mr.  Pentland's  observation  on  the  tombs  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Titicaca  (Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  X,  p.  554)  with  M'Cul- 
loh's  Researches,  pp.  364-366;  Larenaudiere's  Mexique,  pp.  41,  42,  66;  Ulloa's 
South  America,  Vol.  I,  pp.  465,  466. 

1  "  The  members  of  the  royal  house,  the  great  nobles,  even  the  public  function- 
aries, and  the  numerous  body  of  the  priesthood,  were  all  exempt  from  taxation. 
The  whole  duty  of  defraying  the  expenses  of  the  government  belonged  to  the 
people  "  (Prescott's  History  of  Peru,  Vol.  I,  p.  56). 

2  Ondegardo  emphatically  says,  "  Solo  el  trabajo  de  las  personas  era  el  tribute 
que  se  dava,  porque  ellos  no  poseian  otra  cosa"  (Prescott's  Peru,  Vol.  I,  p.  57). 
Compare   M'Culloh's  Researches,  p.  359.    In  Mexico  the  state  of  things  was  just 
the  same :    "  Le  petit  peuple,  qui  ne  possedait  point  de  biens-fonds,  et  qui  ne 
faisait  point  de  commerce,   payait  sa  part  des   taxes  en  travaux  de   differents 
genres  ;  c'etait  par  lui  que  les  terres  de  la  couronne  etaient  cultivees,  les  ouvrages 
publics  executes,  et  les  diverses  maisons  appartenantes  a  1'empereur  construites 
ou  entretenues"  (Larenaudiere's  Mexique,  p.  39). 

8  Mr.  Prescott  notices  this  with  surprise,  though,  under  the  circumstances,  it 
was  in  truth  perfectly  natural.  He  says  (History  of  Peru,  Vol.  I,  p.  159),  "  Under 
this  extraordinary  polity  a  people,  advanced  in  many  of  the  social  refinements,  well 
skilled  in  manufactures  and  agriculture,  were  unacquainted,  as  we  have  seen,  with 
money.  They  had  nothing  that  deserved  to  be  called  property.  They  could  follow 
no  craft,  could  engage  in  no  labor,  no  amusement,  but  such  as  was  specially  provided 
by  law.  They  could  not  change  their  residence  or  their  dress  without  a  license 


240  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

course  of  affairs  was  similar,  the  same  physical  conditions  being 
followed  by  the  same  social  results.  In  the  most  essential  partic- 
ular for  which  history  can  be  studied,  namely,  the  state  of  the 
people,  Mexico  and  Peru  are  the  counterpart  of  each  other.  For 
though  there  were  many  minor  points  of  difference,1  both  were 
agreed  in  this,  that  there  were  only  two  classes,  —  the  upper  class 
being  tyrants,  and  the  lower  class  being  slaves.  This  was  the 
state  in  which  Mexico  was  found  when  it  was  discovered  by  the 
Europeans,2  and  towards  which  it  must  have  been  tending  from 
the  earliest  period.  And  so  insupportable  had  all  this  become 
that  we  know,  from  the  most  decisive  evidence,  that  the  general 
disaffection  it  produced  among  the  people  was  one  of  the  causes 
which,  by  facilitating  the  progress  of  the  Spanish  invaders,  has- 
tened the  downfall  of  the  Mexican  empire.3 

The  further  this  examination  is  carried,  the  more  striking  be- 
comes the  similarity  between  those  civilizations  which  flourished 
anterior  to  what  may  be  called  the  European  epoch  of  the  human 
mind.  The  division  of  a  nation  into  castes  would  be  impossible 
in  the  great  European  countries ;  but  it  existed  from  a  remote 
antiquity  in  Egypt,  in  India,  and  apparently  in  Persia.4  The  very 

from  the  government.  They  could  not  even  exercise  the  freedom  which  is  con- 
ceded to  the  most  abject  in  other  countries,  —  that  of  selecting  their  own  wives." 

1  The  Mexicans  being,  as  Prichard  says  (Physical  History,  Vol.  V,  p.  467),  of  a 
more  cruel  disposition  than  the  Peruvians ;  but  our  information  is  too  limited  to 
enable  us  to  determine  whether  this  was  mainly  owing  to  physical  causes  or  to 
social  ones.     Herder  preferred  the  Peruvian  civilization,  "  der  gebildetste  Staat 
dieses  Welttheils,  Peru"  (Ideen  zur  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,  Vol.  I,  p.  33). 

2  See  in  Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  I,  p.  101,  a  striking  summary  of 
the  state  of  the  Mexican  people  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish  conquest.   See  also 
History  of  America,  Book  VII,  in  Robertson's  Works,  p.  907. 

8  Prescott's  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  34.  Compare  a 
similar  remark  on  the  invasion  of  Egypt  in  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  p.  414. 

*  That  there  were  castes  in  Persia  is  stated  by  Firdausi ;  and  his  assertion, 
putting  aside  its  general  probability,  ought  to  outweigh  the  silence  of  the  Greek 
historians,  who,  for  the  most  part,  knew  little  of  any  country  except  their  own. 
According  to  Malcolm,  the  existence  of  caste  in  the  time  of  Jemsheed,  is  con- 
firmed by  "  some  Mahometan  authors " ;  but  he  does  not  say  who  they  were 
(Malcolm's  History  of  Persia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  505,  506).  Several  attempts  have  been 
made,  but  very  unsuccessfully,  to  ascertain  the  period  in  which  castes  were  first 
instituted.  Compare  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  VI,  p.  251  ;  Heeren's  African 
Nations,  Vol.  II,  p.  121;  Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  p.  410;  Rammohun  Roy  on 
the  Veds,  p.  269. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       241 

same  institution  was  rigidly  enforced  in  Peru  ; 1  and  what  proves 
how  consonant  it  was  to  that  stage  of  society  is  that  in  Mexico, 
where  castes  were  not  established  by  law,  it  was  nevertheless  a 
recognized  custom  that  the  son  should  follow  the  occupation  of 
his  father.2  This  was  the  political  symptom  of  that  stationary 
and  conservative  spirit,  which,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  has 
marked  every  country  in  which  the  upper  classes  have  monopo- 
lized power.  The  religious  symptom  of  the  same  spirit  was  dis- 
played in  that  inordinate  reverence  for  antiquity,  and  in  that 
hatred  of  change,  which  the  greatest  of  all  the  writers  on  America 
has  well  pointed  out  as  an  analogy  between  the  natives  of  Mexico 
and  those  of  Hindustan.3  To  this  may  be  added,  that  those  who 
have  studied  the  history  of  the  ancient  Egyptians  have  observed 
among  that  people  a  similar  tendency.  Wilkinson,  who  is  well 
known  to  have  paid  great  attention  to  their  monuments,  says 
that  they  were  more  unwilling  than  any  other  nation  to  alter 
their  religious  worship ; 4  and  Herodotus,  who  traveled  in  their 

1  Prescott's  History  of  Peru,  Vol.  I,  pp.  143,  156. 

2  Prescott's  History  of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  124. 

8  "  Les  Americains,  comme  les  habitants  de  1'Indoustan,  et  comme  tous  les 
peuples  qui  ont  gemi  longtemps  sous  le  despotisme  civil  et  religieux,  tiennent  avec 
une  opiniatrete  extraordinaire  a  leurs  habitudes,  i  leurs  moeurs,  a  leurs  opinions. 
.  .  .  Au  Mexique,  comme  dans  1'Indoustan,  il  n'etait  pas  permis  aux  fideles  de 
changer  la  moindre  chose  aux  figures  des  idoles.  Tout  ce  qui  appartenait  au  rite 
des  Azteques  et  des  Hindous  etoit  assujeti  k  des  lois  immuables  "  (Humboldt, 
Nouvelle  Espagne,  Vol.  I,  pp.  95,  97).  Turgot  (CEuvres,  Vol.  II,  pp.  226,  313,314) 
has  some  admirable  remarks  on  this  fixity  of  opinion  natural  to  certain  states  of 
society.  See  also  Herder's  Ideen  zur  Geschichte,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  34,  35 ;  and  for 
other  illustrations  of  this  unpliancy  of  thought,  and  adherence  to  old  customs, 
which  many  writers  suppose  to  be  an  eastern  peculiarity,  but  which  is  far  more 
widely  spread,  and  is,  as  Humboldt  clearly  saw,  the  result  of  an  unequal  distribu- 
tion of  power,  compare  Turner's  Embassy  to  Tibet,  p.  41  ;  Forbes'  Oriental 
Memoirs,  Vol.  I, 'pp.  15,  164;  Vol.  II,  p.  236;  Mill's  History  of  India,  Vol.  II, 
p.  214;  Elphinstone's  History  of  India,  p.  48;  Otter's  Life  of  Clarke,  Vol.  II, 
p.  109  ;  Transactions  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  64  ;  Journal  of  Asiatic  Society, 
Vol.  VIII,  p.  1 1 6. 

4  "  How  scrupulous  the  Egyptians  were,  above  all  people,  in  permitting  the 
introduction  of  new  customs  in  matters  relating  to  the  gods  "  (Wilkinson's 
Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  262).  Compare  p.  275.  Thus,  too,  M.  Bunsen 
notices  "  the  tenacity  with  which  the  Egyptians  adhered  to  old  manners  and  cus- 
toms" (Bunsen's  Egypt,  Vol.  II,  p.  64).  See  also  some  remarks  on  the  difference 
between  this  spirit  and  the  love  of  novelty  among  the  Greeks,  in  Ritter's  History 
of  Ancient  Philosophy,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  625,  626. 


242  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

country  twenty-three  hundred  years  ago,  assures  us  that  while 
they  preserved  old  customs  they  never  acquired  new  ones.1 
In  another  point  of  view,  the  similarity  between  these  distant 
countries  is  equally  interesting,  since  it  evidently  arises  from  the 
causes  already  noticed  as  common  to  both.  In  Mexico  and  Peru 
the  lower  classes  being  at  the  disposal  of  the  upper,  there  followed 
that  frivolous  waste  of  labor  which  we  have  observed  in  Egypt, 
and  evidence  of  which  may  also  be  seen  in  the  remains  of  those 
temples  and  palaces  that  are  still  found  in  several  parts  of  Asia. 
Both  Mexicans  and  Peruvians  erected  immense  buildings,  which 
were  as  useless  as  those  of  Egypt,  and  which  no  country  could 
produce,  unless  the  labor  of  the  people  were  ill  paid  and  ill 
directed.2  The  cost  of  these  monuments  of  vanity  is  unknown  ; 
but  it  must  have  been  enormous,  since  the  Americans,  being 
ignorant  of  the  use  of  iron,3  were  unable  to  employ  a  resource 
by  which,  in  the  construction  of  large  works,  labor  is  greatly 
abridged.  Some  particulars,  however,  have  been  preserved,  from 
which  an  idea  may  be  formed  on  this  subject.  To  take,  for 
instance,  the  palaces  of  their  kings,  we  find  that  in  Peru  the 
erection  of  the  royal  residence  occupied,  during  fifty  years, 
twenty  thousand  men  ;  4  while  that  of  Mexico  cost  the  labor  of  no 
less  than  two  hundred  thousand,  —  striking  facts,  which,  if  all 
other  testimonies  had  perished,  would  enable  .us  to  appreciate  the 


1  Herodotus,  Book  II,  chap.  79  :  irarplouri  8t  xpeci/uevoi   j/<Vo«n,   &\\ov 
iiriKT^uvrai  :  and  see  the  note  in  Baehr,  Vol.  I,  p.  660:  "  v6/ioi/j  priores  interpretes 
explicarunt  cantilenas,  hymnos  ;  Schweighaeuserus   rectius  intellexit  instituta  ac 
mores.'1''    In  the  same  way,  in  Timaeus,  Plato  represents  an  Egyptian  priest  saying 
to  Solon,  "EXX^ves  ad  iraTdts  fore,  ytpwv  5£  "E\\r)v  OVK  tvnv.     And  when   Solon 
asked  what  he  meant,  NVoi  fart,  was  the  reply,  rds  ^ux&J  irdvret  •  ovdefj-iav  y&p  Iv 
avrais  %XeTe   81    apx^iav   d/cor/v    TraXcudj'    56£av    ovdt    fi.d6t)/j.a    XP^VV   iro\i6v    ovStv. 
Platonis  Opera,  Vol.  VII,  chap.  v.  p.  242,  edit.  Bekker,  London,  1826. 

2  The  Mexicans  appear  to  have  been  even  more  wantonly  prodigal  than  the 
Peruvians.     See,  respecting  their  immense  pyramids,  one  of  which,  Cholula,  had 
a  base  "twice  as  broad  as  the  largest  Egyptian  pyramid,"  M'Culloh's  Researches, 
pp.  252,  256;  Bullock's  Mexico,  pp.  111-115,  4'4!  Humboldt,  Nouvelle  Espagne, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  240,  241. 

8  Prescott's  History  of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  117;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  341  ;  and  Prescott's 
History  of  Peru,  Vol.  I,  p.  145.  See  also  Haiiy,  Traite  de  Mineralogie,  Paris, 
1801,  Vol.  IV,  p.  372. 

*  Prescott's  History  of  Peru,  Vol.  I,  p.  18. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       243 

condition  of  countries  in  which,  for  such  insignificant  purposes, 
such  vast  power  was  expended.1 

The  preceding  evidence,  collected  from  sources  of  unquestioned 
credibility,  proves  the  force  of  those  great  physical  laws,  which, 
in  the  most  flourishing  countries  out  of  Europe,  encouraged  the 
accumulation  of  wealth,  but  prevented  its  dispersion,  and  thus 
secured  to  the  upper  classes  a  monopoly  of  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant elements  of  social  and  political  power.  The  result  was, 
that  in  all  those  civilizations  the  great  body  of  the  people  derived 
no  benefit  from  the  national  improvements  ;  hence,  the  basis  of 
the  progress  being  very  narrow,  the  progress  itself  was  very 
insecure.2  When,  therefore,  unfavorable  circumstances  arose  from 
without,  it  was  but  natural  that  the  whole  system  should  fall 
to  the  ground.  In  such  countries  society,  being  divided  against 
itself,  was  unable  to  stand.  And  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
long  before  the  crises  of  their  actual  destruction,  these  one- 
sided and  irregular  civilizations  had  begun  to  decay,  so  that 
their  own  degeneracy  aided  the  progress  of  foreign  invaders  and 
secured  the  overthrow  of  those  ancient  kingdoms,  which,  under  a 
sounder  system,  might  have  been  easily  saved. 

Thus  far  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  great  civilizations  exterior 
to  Europe  have  been  affected  by  the  peculiarities  of  their  food, 

1  Mr.  Prescott  (History  of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  153)  says  :  "  We  are  not  informed 
of  the  time  occupied  in  building  this  palace,  but  two  hundred  thousand  workmen, 
it  is  said,  were  employed  on  it.    However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  the  Tezcucan 
monarchs,  like  those  of  Asia  and  ancient  Egypt,  had  the  control  of  immense  masses 
of  men,  and  would  sometimes  turn  the   whole  population  of  a  conquered  city, 
including  the  women,  into  the  public  works.    The  most  gigantic  monuments  of 
architecture   which  the  world  has  witnessed  would  never  have  been  reared  by 
the  hands  of  freemen."     The  Mexican  historian,   Ixtlilxochitl,  gives  a    curious 
account  of  one  of  the  royal  palaces.     See  his  Histoire  des  Chichimeques,  trans- 
lated by  Ternaux-Compans,  Paris,  1840,  Vol.  I,  chap,  xxxvii,  pp.  257—262. 

2  This  may  be  illustrated  by  a  good  remark  of  M.  Matter,  to  the  effect  that 
when  the  Egyptians  had  once  lost  their  race  of  kings,  it  was  found  impossible  for 
the  nation  to  reconstruct  itself  (Matter,  Histoire  de  1'ficole  d'Alexandrie,  Vol.  I, 
p.  68  ;  a  striking  passage).     In  Persia,  again,  when  the  feeling  of  loyalty  decayed, 
so  also  did  the  feeling  of  national  power  (Malcolm's  History  of  Persia,  Vol.  II, 
p.  130).  The  history  of  the  most  civilized  parts  of  Europe  presents  a  picture  exactly 
the  reverse  of  this. 


244  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

climate,  and  soil.  It  now  remains  for  me  to  examine  the  effect 
of  those  other  physical  agents  to  which  I  have  given  the  collective 
name  of  Aspects  of  Nature,  and  which  will  be  found  suggestive 
of  some  very  wide  and  comprehensive  inquiries  into  the  influence 
exercised  by  the  external  world  in  predisposing  men  to  certain 
habits  of  thought,  and  thus  giving  a  particular  tone  to  religion, 
arts,  literature,  and,  in  a  word,  to  all  the  principal  manifestations  of 
the  human  mind.  To  ascertain  how  this  is  brought  about  forms 
a  necessary  supplement  to  the  investigations  just  concluded. 
For,  as  we  have  seen  that  climate,  food,  and  soil  mainly  concern 
the  accumulation  and  distribution  of  wealth,  so  also  shall  we  see 
that  the  Aspects  of  Nature  concern  the  accumulation  and  dis- 
tribution of  thought.  In  the  first  case,  we  have  to  do  with  the 
material  interests  of  man  ;  in  the  other  case,  with  his  intellectual 
interests.  The  former  I  have  analyzed  as  far  as  I  am  able,  and 
perhaps  as  far  as  the  existing  state  of  knowledge  will  allow.1 
But  the  other,  namely,  the  relation  between  the  Aspects  of 
Nature  and  the  mind  of  Man,  involves  speculations  of  such  mag- 
nitude, and  requires  such  a  mass  of  materials  drawn  from  every 
quarter,  that  I  feel  very  apprehensive  as  to  the  result ;  and  I . 
need  hardly  say  that  I  make  no  pretensions  to  anything  approach- 
ing an  exhaustive  analysis,  nor  can  I  hope  to  do  more  than 
generalize  a  few  of  the  laws  of  that  complicated  but  as  yet 
unexplored  process  by  which  the  external  world  has  affected  the 
human  mind,  has  warped  its  natural  movements,  and  too  often 
checked  its  natural  progress. 

The  Aspects  of  Nature,  when  considered  from  this  point  of 
view,  are  divisible  into  two  classes :  the  first  class  being  those 
which  are  most  likely  to  excite  the  imagination ;  and  the  other 
class  being  those  which  address  themselves  to  the  understanding 
commonly  so  called,  that  is,  to  the  mere  logical  operations  of  the 
intellect.  For  although  it  is  true  that,  in  a  complete  and  well- 
balanced  mind,  the  imagination  and  the  understanding  each  play 
their  respective  parts,  and  are  auxiliary  to  each  other,  it  is  also 

1  I  mean,  in  regard  to  the  physical  and  economical  generalizations.  As  to  the 
literature  of  the  subject,  I  am  conscious  of  many  deficiencies,  particularly  in 
respect  to  the  Mexican  and  Peruvian  histories. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS 


245 


true  that,  in  a  majority  of  instances,  the  understanding  is  tod 
weak  to  curb  the  imagination  and  restrain  its  dangerous  license. 
The  tendency  of  advancing  civilization  is  to  remedy  this  dispro- 
portion, and  invest  the  reasoning  powers  with  that  authority 
which,  in  an  early  stage  of  society,  the  imagination  exclusively 
possesses.  Whether  or  not  there  is  ground  for  fearing  that  the 
reaction  will  eventually  proceed  too  far,  and  that  the  reasoning 
faculties  will  in  their  turn  tyrannize  over  the  imaginative  ones,  is 
a  question  of  the  deepest  interest ;  but  in  the  present  condition 
of  our  knowledge  it  is  probably  an  insoluble  one.  At  all  events, 
it  is  certain  that  nothing  like  such  a  state  has  yet  been  seen ; 
since  even  in  this  age,  when  the  imagination  is  more  under  con- 
trol than  in  any  preceding  one,  it  has  far  too  much  power,  as 
might  be  easily  proved  not  only  from  the  superstitions  which  in 
every  country  still  prevail  among  the  vulgar,  but  also  from  that 
poetic  reverence  for  antiquity  which,  though  it  has  been  long 
diminishing,  still  hampers  the  independence,  blinds  the  judgment, 
and  circumscribes  the  originality  of  the  educated  classes. 

Now,  so  far  as  natural  phenomena  are  concerned,  it  is  evident 
that  whatever  inspires  feelings  of  terror,  or  of  great  wonder,  and 
whatever  excites  in  the  mind  an  idea  of  the  vague  and  uncontrol- 
lable, has  a  special  tendency  to  inflame  the  imagination  and  bring 
under  its  dominion  the  slower  and  more  deliberate  operations  of 
the  understanding.  In  such  cases,  man,  contrasting  himself  with 
the  force  and  majesty  of  nature,  becomes  painfully  conscious  of 
his  own  insignificance.  A  sense  of  inferiority  steals  over  him. 
From  every  quarter  innumerable  obstacles  hern  him  in  and  limit 
his  individual  will.  His  mind,  appalled  by  the  indefined  and  inde- 
finable, hardly  cares  to  scrutinize  the  details  of  which  such  im- 
posing grandeur  consists.1  On  the  other  hand,  where  the  works 

1  The  sensation  of  fear,  even  when  there  is  no  danger,  becomes  strong  enough 
to  destroy  the  pleasure  that  would  otherwise  be  felt.  See,  for  instance,  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  great  mountain  boundary  of  Hindustan,  in  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  XI, 
p.  469 :  "  It  is  necessary  for  a  person  to  place  himself  in  our  situation  before  he 
can  form  a  just  conception  of  the  scene.  The  depth  of  the  valley  below,  the 
progressive  elevation  of  the  intermediate  hills,  and  the  majestic  splendor  of  the 
cloud-capt  Himalaya,  formed  so  grand  a  picture  that  the  mind  was  impressed 
with  a  sensation  of  dread  rather  than  of  pleasure."  Compare  Vol.  XIV,  p.  116, 


246  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  nature  are  small  and  feeble,  man  regains  confidence :  he 
seems  more  able  to  rely  on  his  own  power ;  he  can,  as  it  were, 
pass  through,  and  exercise  authority  in  every  direction.  And  as 
the  phenomena  are  more  accessible,  it  becomes  easier  for  him  to 
experiment  on  them,  or  to  observe  them  with  minuteness ;  an 
inquisitive  and  analytic  spirit  is  encouraged,  and  he  is  tempted  to 
generalize  the  appearances  of  nature,  and  refer  them  to  the  laws 
by  which  they  are  governed. 

Looking  in  this  way  at  the  human  mind  as  affected  by  the 
Aspects  of  Nature,  it  is  surely  a  remarkable  fact  that  all  the 
great  early  civilizations  were  situated  within  and  immediately 
adjoining  the  tropics,  where  those  aspects  are  most  sublime,  most 
terrible,  and  where  nature  is,  in  every  respect,  most  dangerous  to 
man.  Indeed,  generally,  in  Asia,  Africa,  and  America  the  external 
world  is  more  formidable  than  in  Europe.  This  holds  good  not 
only  of  the  fixed  and  permanent  phenomena,  such  as  mountains 
and  other  great  natural  barriers,  but  also  of  occasional  phenomena, 
such  as  earthquakes,  tempests,  hurricanes,  pestilences,  —  all  of 
which  are  in  those  regions  very  frequent  and  very  disastrous. 
These  constant  and  serious  dangers  produce  effects  analogous  to 
those  caused  by  the  sublimity  of  nature,  in  so  far  that  in  both 
cases  there  is  a  tendency  to  increase  the  activity  of  the  imagina- 
tion. For  the  peculiar  province  of  the  imagination  being  to  deal 
with  the  unknown,  every  event  which  is  unexplained  as  well  as 
important  is  a  direct  stimulus  to  our  imaginative  faculties.  In 
the  tropics  events  of  this  kind  are  more  numerous  than  else- 
where ;  it  therefore  follows  that  in  the  tropics  the  imagination  is 
most  likely  to  triumph.  A  few  illustrations  of  the  working  of 
this  principle  will  place  it  in  a  clearer  light,  and  will  prepare  the 
reader  for  the  arguments  based  upon  it. 

Of  those  physical  events  which  increase  the  insecurity  of  man, 
earthquakes  are  certainly  among  the  most  striking,  in  regard  to 
the  loss  of  life  which  they  cause,  as  also  in  regard  to  their  sudden 
and  unexpected  occurrence.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  they 

Calcutta,  1822.  In  the  Tyrol  it  has  been  observed  that  the  grandeur  of  the 
mountain  scenery  imbues  the  minds  of  the  natives  with  fear,  and  has  caused  the 
invention  of  many  superstitious  legends  (Alison's  Europe,  Vol.  IX,  pp.  79,  80). 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS 


247 


are  always  preceded  by  atmospheric  changes  which  strike  im- 
mediately at  the  nervous  system,  and  thus  have  a  direct  physical 
tendency  to  impair  the  intellectual  powers.1  However  this  may 
be,  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  effect  they  produce  in 
encouraging  particular  associations  and  habits  of  thought.  The 
terror  which  they  inspire  excites  the  imagination  even  to  a  pain- 
ful extent,  and,  overbalancing  the  judgment,  predisposes  men  to 
superstitious  fancies.  And  what  is  highly  curious  is  that  repeti- 
tion, so  far  from  blunting  such  feelings,  strengthens  them.  In 
Peru,  where  earthquakes  appear  to  be  more  common  than  in  any 
other  country,2  every  succeeding  visitation  increases  the  general 
dismay,  so  that,  in  some  cases,  the  fear  becomes  almost  insup- 
portable.3 The  mind  is  thus  constantly  thrown  into  a  timid  and 

1  "  Une  augmentation  d'electricite  s'y  manifeste  aussi  presque  toujours,  et  ils 
sont  generalement  annonces  par  le  mugissement  des  bestiaux,  par  1'inquietude 
des  animaux  domestiques,  et  dans  les  hommes  par  cette  sorte  de  malaise  qui,  en 
Europe,  precede  les  orages  dans  les  personnes  nerveuses  "  (Cuvier,  Progres  des 
Sciences,  Vol.  I,  p.  265).    See  also  on  this  "  Vorgefiihl,"  the  observation  of  Von 
Hoff,  in  Mr.  Mallet's  valuable  essay  on  earthquakes  {British  Association  for  1850, 
p.  68) ;  and  the  "foreboding"  in  Tschudi's  Peru,  p.  165  ;  and  a  letter  in  Nichols' 
Illustrations  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Vol.  IV,  p.  504.    The  probable  connection 
between  earthquakes  and  electricity  is  noticed  in  Bakewell's  Geology,  p.  434. 

2  "  Peru  is  more  subject,  perhaps,  than  any  other  country  to  the  tremendous 
visitation  of  earthquakes"  (M'Culloch's  Geographical  Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  II, 
p.  499).      Dr.  Tschudi  (Travels  in  Peru,  p.  162)  says  of  Lima,  "At  an  average 
forty-five  shocks  may  be  counted  on  in  the  year."    See  also  on  the  Peruvian  earth- 
quakes, pp.  43,  75,  87,  90. 

3  A  curious  instance  of  association  of  ideas  conquering  the  deadening  effect  of 
habit.     Dr.  Tschudi  (Peru,  p.  1 70),  describing  the  panic,  says,  "  No  familiarity  with 
the  phenomenon  can  blunt  this  feeling."    Beale  (South  Sea  Whaling  Voyage, 
p.  205,  London,  1839)  writes,  "It  is  said  at  Peru  that  the  oftener  the  natives  of 
the  place  feel  those  vibrations  of  the  earth,  instead  of  oecoming  habituated  to 
them,  as  persons  do  who  are  constantly  exposed  to  other  dangers,  they  become 
more  filled  with  dismay  every  time  the  shock  is  repeated,  so  that  aged  people 
often  find  the  terror  a  slight  shock  will  produce  almost  insupportable."    Compare 
Darwin's   Journal,  pp.   422,  423.    So,  too,  in   regard  to    Mexican   earthquakes, 
Mr.  Ward  observes  that  "  the  natives  are  both  more  sensible  than  strangers  of  the 
smaller  shocks,  and  more  alarmed  by  them  "  (Ward's  Mexico,  Vol.  II,  p.  55).    On 
the  physiological  effects  of  the  fear  caused  by  earthquakes,  see  the  remarkable 
statement  by  Osiander  in  Burdach,  Physiologie  comme  Science  d'Observation, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  223,  224.    That  the  fear  should  be  not  deadened  by  familiarity,  but 
increased  by  it,  would  hardly  be  expected  by  speculative  reasoners  unacquainted 
with  the  evidence ;  and  we  find,  in  fact,  that  the  Pyrrhonists  asserted  that  oi  yovv 
fffurual  trap  oh  ffvvfx&'i  airoreXovvTai  oti  6avfj.d^ovrai.-   ovd'  6   ^jAios,   8n    Katf  -fj^pav 
oparai  (Diog.  Laert.  de  Vitis  Philos.,  Lib.  IX,  segm.  87,  Vol.  I,  p.  591). 


248  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

anxious  state  ;  and  men  witnessing  the  most  serious  dangers, 
which  they  can  neither  avoid  nor  understand,  become  impressed 
with  a  conviction  of  their  own  inability  and  of  the  poverty  of 
their  own  resources.1  In  exactly  the  same  proportion  the  imagi- 
nation is  aroused,  and  a  belief  in  supernatural  interference  actively 
encouraged.  Human  power  failing,  superhuman  power  is  called 
in  ;  the  mysterious  and  the  invisible  are  believed  to  be  present ; 
and  there  grow  up  among  the  people  those  feelings  of  awe  and 
of  helplessness  on  which  all  superstition  is  based,  and  without 
which  no  superstition  can  exist.2 

Further  illustration  of  this  may  be  found  even  in  Europe, 
where  such  phenomena  are,  comparatively  speaking,  extremely 
rare.  Earthquakes  and  volcanic  eruptions  are  more  frequent  and 
more  destructive  in  Italy  and  in  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese 
peninsula  than  in  any  other  of  the  great  countries ;  and  it  is 
precisely  there  that  superstition  is  most  rife,  and  the  superstitious 
classes  most  powerful.  Those  were  the  countries  where  the 
clergy  first  established  their  authority,  where  the  worst  corrup- 
tions of  Christianity  took  place,  and  where  superstition  has  during 
the  longest  period  retained  the  firmest  hold.  To  this  may  be 
added  another  circumstance,  indicative  of  the  connection  between 
these  physical  phenomena  and  the  predominance  of  the  imagina- 
tion. Speaking  generally,  the  fine  arts  are  addressed  more  to  the 
imagination,  the  sciences  to  the  intellect.3  Now  it  is  remarkable 

1  Mr.  Stephens,  who  gives  a  striking  description  of  an  earthquake  in  Central 
America,   emphatically  says,  "I   never  felt   myself  so   feeble  a   thing  before" 
(Stephen's  Central  America,  Vol.  I,  p.  383).    See  also  the  account  of  the  effects 
produced  on  the  mind  by  an  earthquake,  in  Transactions  of  Society  of  Bombay, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  98,  and  the  note  at  p.  105. 

2  The  effect  of  earthquakes  in  encouraging  superstition  is  noticed  in  Lyell's 
admirable  work,  Principles  of  Geology,  p.  492.    Compare  a  myth  on  the  origin  of 
earthquakes  in  Beausobre,  Histoire  Critique  de  Manichee,  Vol.  I,  p.  243. 

8  The  greatest  men  in  science,  and  in  fact  all  very  great  men,  have  no  doubt 
been  remarkable  for  the  powers  of  their  imagination.  But  in  art  the  imagination 
plays  a  far  more  conspicuous  part  than  in  science ;  and  this  is  what  I  mean  to 
express  by  the  proposition  in  the  text.  Sir  David  Brewster,  indeed,  thinks  that 
Newton  was  deficient  in  imagination :  "  the  weakness  of  his  imaginative  powers  " 
(Brewster's  Life  of  Newton,  1855,  Vol.  II,  p.  133).  It  is  impossible  to  discuss  so 
large  a  question  in  a  note;  but  to  my  apprehension  no  poet,  except  Dante  and 
Shakespeare,  ever  had  an  imagination  more  soaring  and  more  audacious  than 
that  possessed  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton. 


.INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      249 

that  all  the  greatest  painters,  and  nearly  all  the  greatest  sculptors, 
modern  Europe  has  possessed  have  been  produced  by  the  Italian 
and  Spanish  peninsulas.  In  regard  to  science,  Italy  has  no  doubt 
had  several  men  of  conspicuous  ability;  but  their  numbers  are 
out  of  all  proportion  small  compared  with  her  artists  and  poets. 
As  to  Spain  and  Portugal,  the  literature  of  those  two  countries  is 
eminently  poetic,  and  from  their  schools  have  proceeded  some 
of  the  greatest  painters  the  world  has  ever  seen.  On  .the  other 
hand,  the  purely  reasoning  faculties  have  been  neglected,  and 
the  whole  peninsula,  from  the  earliest  period  to  the  present  time, 
does  not  supply  to  the  history  of  the  natural  sciences  a  single 
name  of  the  highest  merit ;  not  one  man  whose  works  form  an 
epoch  in  the  progress  of  European  knowledge.1 

The  manner  in  which  the  Aspects  of  Nature,  when  they  are 
very  threatening,  stimulate  the  imagination,2  and.  by  encour- 
aging superstition  discourage  knowledge,  may  be  made'  still  more 
apparent  by  one  or  two  additional  facts.  Among  an  ignorant 
people  there  is  a  direct  tendency  to  ascribe  all  serious  dangers 
to  supernatural  intervention ;  and  a  strong  religious  sentiment 
being  thus  aroused,3  it  constantly  happens  not  only  that  the 
danger  is  submitted  to,  but  that  it  is  actually  worshiped.  This 
is  the  case  with  some  of  the  Hindus  in  the  forests  of  Malabar;4 

1  The  remarks  made  by  Mr.  Ticknor  on  the  absence  of  science  in  Spain  might 
be  extended  even  further  than  he  has  done.     See  Ticknor's  History  of  Spanish 
Literature,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  222,  223.     He  says  (p.  237),  that  in  1771  the  University  of 
Salamanca,  being  urged  to  teach  the  physical  sciences,  replied,  "  Newton  teaches 
nothing  that  would  make  a  good  logician  or  metaphysician,  and  Gassendi  and 
Descartes  do  not  agree  so  well  with  revealed  truth  as  Aristotle  does." 

2  In  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  VI,  pp.  35,  36,  there  is  a  good  instance  of  an 
earthquake  giving  rise  to  a  theological  fiction.     See  also  Vol.  I,  pp.  154—157;  and 
compare  Coleman's  Mythology  of  the  Hindus,  p.  17. 

8  See,  for  example,  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  56-57  ;  Vol.  VII,  p.  94 ; 
and  the  effect  produced  by  a  volcano,  in  'Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  V, 
p.  388.  See  also  Vol.  XX,  p.  8,  and  a  partial  recognition  of  the  principle  by  Sextus 
Empiricus,  in  Tennemann,  Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  Vol.  I,  p.  292.  Com- 
pare the  use  the  clergy  made  of  a  volcanic  eruption  in  Iceland  (Wheaton's  History 
of  the  Northmen,  p.  42) ;  and  see  further  Raffles'  History  of  Java, Vol.  I,  pp.  29,  274, 
andTschudi's  Peru,  pp.  64,  167,  171. 

4  The  Hindus  in  the  Ifuari  forests,  says  Mr.  Edye,  "worship  and  respect  every- 
thing from  which  they  apprehend  danger "  (Edye  on  the  Coast  of  Malabar,  in 
Journal  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  II,  p.  337). 


250  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  many  similar  instances  will  occur  to  whoever  has  studied  the 
condition  of  barbarous  tribes.1  Indeed,  so  far  is  this  carried  that 
in  some  countries  the  inhabitants,  from  feelings  of  reverential 
fear,  refuse  to  destroy  wild  beasts  and  noxious  reptiles  ;  the 
mischief  these  animals  inflict  being  the  cause  of  the  impunity 
they  enjoy.2 

It  is  in  this  way  that  the  old  tropical  civilizations  had  to 
struggle  with  innumerable  difficulties  unknown  to  the  temper- 
ate zone,  where  European  civilization  has  long  flourished.  The 
devastations  of  animals  hostile  to  man,  the  ravages  of  hurricanes, 
tempests,  earthquakes,3  and  similar  perils  constantly  pressed 
upon  them  and  affected  the  tone  of  their  national  character ; 
for  the  mere  loss  of  life  was  the  smallest  part  of  the  inconvenience. 
The  real  mischief  was,  that  there  were  engendered  in  the  mind 

1  Dr.  Prichard  (Physical  History,  Vol.  IV,  p.  501)  says,  "  The  tiger  is  worshiped 
by  the  Hajin  tribe  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Garrows  or  Garudus."     Compare  Trans- 
actions of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  66.     Among  the  Garrows  themselves  this 
feeling  is  so  strong  that  "  the  tiger's  nose  strung  round  a  woman's  neck  is  consid- 
ered as  a  great  preservative  in  childbirth  "  (Coleman's  Mythology  of  the  Hindus, 
p.  321).    The  Seiks  have  a  curious  superstition  respecting  wounds  inflicted  by  tigers 
(Bumes'  Bokhara,   1834,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  140) ;    and  the  Malasir  believe  that  these 
animals  are  sent  as  a  punishment  for  irreligion  (Buchanan's  Journey  through  the 
Mysore,  Vol.  II,  p.  385). 

2  The  inhabitants  of  Sumatra  are,  for  superstitious  reasons,  most  unwilling 
to  destroy  tigers,  though  they  commit  frightful  ravages  (Marsden's  History  of 
Sumatra,  pp.  149,  254).  The  Russian  account  of  the  Kamtschatkans  says,  "  Besides 
the  above-mentioned  gods,  they  pay  a  religious  regard  to  several  animals  from 
which  they  apprehend  danger  "•  (Grieve's  History  of  Kamtschatka,  p.  205).   Bruce 
mentions  that  in  Abyssinia  hyenas  are  considered  "  enchanters";  and  the  inhab- 
itants "  will  not  touch  the  skin  of  a  hyena  till  it  has  been  prayed  over  and  exor- 
cised by  a  priest"  (Murray's  Life  of  Bruce,  p.  472).     Allied  to  this  is  the  respect 
paid  to  bears  (Erman's  Siberia,  Vol.  I,  p.  492  ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  42,  43);  also  the  exten- 
sively diffused  worship  of  the  serpent,  whose  wily  movements  are  well  calculated 
to  inspire  fear,  and  therefore  rouse  the  religious  feelings.     The  danger  appre- 
hended from  noxious  reptiles  is  connected  with  the  Dews  of  the  Zendavesta. 
See  Matter's  Histoire  du  Gnosticisme,  Vol.  I,  p.  380,  Paris,  1828. 

8  To  give  one  instance  of  the  extent  to  which  these  operate,  it  may  be  men- 
tioned that  in  1815  an  earthquake  and  volcanic  eruption  broke  forth  in  Sumbawa, 
which  shook  the  ground  "  through  an  area  of  one  thousand  miles  in  circumfer- 
ence," and  the  detonations  of  which  were  heard  at  a  distance  of  nine  hundred 
and  seventy  geographical  miles.  See  Somerville's  Connection  of  the  Physical 
Sciences,  p.  283  ;  Hitchcock's  Religion  of  Geology,  p.  190  ;  Low's  Sarawak,  p.  10; 
Bakewell's  Geology,  p.  438. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      251 

associations  which  made  the  imagination  predominate  'over  the 
understanding,  which  infused  into  the  people  a  spirit  of  rever- 
ence instead  of  a  spirit  of  inquiry,  and  which  encouraged  a  dis- 
position to  neglect  the  investigation  of  natural  causes  and  ascribe 
events  to  the  operation  of  supernatural  ones. 

Everything  we  know  of  those  countries  proves  how  active 
this  tendency  must  have  been.  With  extremely  few  exceptions, 
health  is  more  precarious  and  disease  more  common  in  tropical 
climates  than  in  temperate  ones.  Now  it  has  been  often  observed, 
and  indeed  is  very  obvious,  that  the  fear  of  death  makes  men 
more  prone  to  seek  supernatural  aid  than  they  would  otherwise 
be.  So  complete  is  our  ignorance  respecting  another  life  that  it 
is  no  wonder  if  even  the  stoutest  heart  should  quail  at  the  sudden 
approach  of  that  dark  and  untried  future.  On  this  subject  the 
reason  is  perfectly  silent;  the  imagination,  therefore,  is  uncon- 
trolled. The  operation  of  natural  causes  being  brought  to  an  end, 
supernatural  causes  are  supposed  to  begin.  Hence  it  is,  that 
whatever  increases  in  any  country  the  amount  of  dangerous 
disease  has  an  immediate  tendency  to  strengthen  superstition  and 
aggrandize  the  imagination  at  the  expense  of  the  understand- 
ing. This  principle  is  so  universal  that  in  every  part  of  the 
world  the  vulgar  ascribe  to  the  intervention  of  the  Deity  those 
diseases  which  are  peculiarly  fatal,  and  especially  those  which 
have  a  sudden  and  mysterious  appearance.  In  Europe  it  used  to 
be  believed  that  every  pestilence  was  a  manifestation  of  the 
divine  anger ; l  and  this  opinion,  though  it  has  long  been  dying 

1  In  the  sixteenth  century,  "  Les  differentes  sectes  s'accorderent  neanmoins  h. 
regarder  les  maladies  graves  et  dangereuses  comme  un  effet  immediat  de  la  puis- 
sance divine ;  idee  que  Fernel  contribua  encore  a  repandre  davantage.  On  trouve 
dans  Pare  plusieurs  passages  de  la  Bible,  cites  pour  prouver  que  la  colere  de 
Dieu  est  la  seule  cause  de  la  peste,  qu'elle  suffit  pour  provoquer  ce  fleau,  et  que 
sans  elle  les  causes  eloignees  ne  sauraient  agir  "  (Sprengel,  Histoire  de  la  Mede- 
cine,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  112).  The  same  learned  writer  says  of  the  Middle  Ages  (Vol.  II, 
p.  372),  "  D'apres  1'esprit  generalement  repandu  dans  ces  siecles  de  barbaric,  on 
croyait  la  lepre  envoyee  d'une  maniere  immediate  par  Dieu."  See  also  pp.  145, 
346,  431.  Bishop  Heber  says  that  the  Hindus  deprive  lepers  of  caste  and  of  the 
right  of  possessing  property  because  they  are  objects  of  "  Heaven's  wrath " 
(Heber's  Journey  through  India,  Vol.  II,  p.  330).  On  the  Jewish  opinion,  see 
Le  Clerc,  Bibliotheque  Universelle,  Vol.  IV,  p.  402,  Amsterdam,  1702.  And  as  to 


252  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

away,  is  by  no  means  extinct  even  in  the  most  civilized  countries.1 
Superstition  of  this  kind  will  of  course  be  strongest  either  where 
medical  knowledge  is  most  backward  or  where  disease  is  most 
abundant.  In  countries  where  both  these  conditions  are  fulfilled 


the  early  Christians,  see  Maury,  Legendes  Pieuses,  p.  68,  Paris,  1843;  though 
M.  Maury  ascribes  to  "  les  idees  orientales  re9ues  par  le  christianisme  "  what  is 
due  to  the  operation  of  a  much  wider  principle. 

1  Under  the  influence  of  the  inductive  philosophy  the  theological  theory  of 
disease  was  seriously  weakened  before  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century ; 
and  by  the  middle,  or  at  all  events  the  latter  half,  of  the  eighteenth  century  it 
had  lost  all  its  partisans  among  scientific  men.  At  present  it  still  lingers  on  among 
the  vulgar ;  and  traces  of  it  may  be  found  in  the  writings  of  the  clergy,  and  in  the 
works  of  other  persons  little  acquainted  with  physical  knowledge.  When  the 
cholera  broke  out  in  England  attempts  were  made  to  revive  the  old  notion ;  but 
the  spirit  of  the  age  was  too  strong  for  such  efforts  to  succeed ;  and  it  may  be 
safely  predicted  that  men  will  never  return  to  their  former  opinions  unless  they 
first  return  to  their  former  ignorance.  As  a  specimen  of  the  ideas  which  the 
cholera  tended  to  excite,  and  of  their  antagonism  to  all  scientific  investigation,  I 
may  refer  to  a  letter  written  in  1832  by  Mrs.  Grant,  a  woman  of  some  accomplish- 
ments and  not  devoid  of  influence  (Correspondence  of  Mrs.  Grant,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  216, 
217,  London,  1844),  where  she  states:  "It  appears  to  me  great  presumption  to 
indulge  so  much  as  people  do  in  speculation  and  conjecture  about  a  disease  so 
evidently  a  peculiar  infliction,  and  different  from  all  other  modes  of  suffering 
hitherto  known."  This  desire  to  limit  human  speculation  is  precisely  the  feeling 
which  long  retained  Europe  in  darkness,  since  it  effectually  prevented  those  free 
inquiries  to  which  we  are  indebted  for  all  the  real  knowledge  we  possess.  The 
doubts  of  Boyle  upon  this  subject  supply  a  curious  instance  of  the  transitionary 
state  through  which  the  mind  was  passing  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  by 
which  the  way  was  prepared  for  the  great  liberating  movement  of  the  next  age. 
Boyle,  after  stating  both  sides  of  the  question,  namely,  the  theological  and  the 
scientific,  adds,  "And  it  is  the  less  likely  that  these  sweeping  and  contagious  mala- 
dies should  be  always  sent  for  the  punishment  of  impious  men,  because  I  remember 
to  have  read  in  good  authors  that  as  some  plagues  destroyed  both  men  and 
beasts,  so  some  others  did  peculiarly  destroy  brute  animals  of  very  little  consider- 
ation or  use  to  men,  as  cats,  etc. 

"  Upon  these  and  the  like  reasons  I  have  sometimes  suspected  that  in  the 
controversy  about  the  origin  of  the  plague,  namely  whether  it  be  natural  or  super- 
natural, neither  of  the  contending  parties  is  altogether  in  the  right,  since  it  is 
very  possible  that  some  pestilences  may  not  break  forth  without  an  extraordinary, 
though  perhaps  not  immediate,  interposition  of  Almighty  God,  provoked  by 
the  sins  of  men ;  and  yet  other  plagues  may  be  produced  by  a  tragical  concourse 
of  merely  natural  causes"  (Discourse  on  the  Air,  in  Boyle's  Works,  Vol.  IV, 
pp.  288,  289).  "Neither  of  the  contending  parties  is  altogether  in  the  right"  —  an 
instructive  passage  towards  understanding  the  compromising  spirit  of  the  seven- 
teenth century ;  standing  midway,  as  it  did,  between  the  credulity  of  the  sixteenth, 
and  the  scepticism  of  the  eighteenth. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      253 

the  superstition  is  supreme ;  and  even  where  only  one  of  the 
conditions  exists  the  tendency  is  so  irresistible  that,  I  believe, 
there  are  no  barbarous  people  who  do  not  ascribe  to  their  good 
or  evil  deities  not  only  extraordinary  diseases  but  even  many  of 
the  ordinary  ones  to  which  they  are  liable.1 

Here,  then,  we  have  another  specimen  of  the  unfavorable 
influence  which,  in  the  old  civilizations,  external  phenomena 

1  To  the  historian  of  the  human  mind  the  whole  question  is  so  full  of  interest 
that  I  shall  refer  in  this  note  to  all  the  evidence  I  have  been  able  to  collect;  and 
whoever  will  compare  the  following  passages  may  satisfy  himself  that  there  is  in 
every  part  of  the  world  an  intimate  relation  between  ignorance  respecting  the 
nature  and  proper  treatment  of  a  disease,  and  the  belief  that  such  disease  is 
caused  by  supernatural  power,  and  is  to  be  cured  by  it.  Burton's  Sindh,  p.  146, 
London,  1851  ;  Ellis'  Polynesian  Researches,  Vol.  I,  p.  395  ;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  36,41 ; 
Vol.  IV,  pp.  293,  334,  375  ;  Cullen's  Works,  Vol.  II,  pp.  414,  434,  Edinburgh,  1827  ; 
Esquirol,  Maladies  Mentales,  Vol.  I,  pp.  274,  482  ;  Cabanis,  Rapports  du  Physique 
et  du  Moral,  p.  277 ;  Volney,  Voyage  en  Syrie,  Vol.  I,  p.  426;  Turner's  Embassy 
to  Tibet,  p.  104;  Syme's  Embassy  to  Ava,  Vol.  II,  p.  211  ;  Ellis'  Tour  through 
Hawaii,  pp.  282,  283,  332,  333 ;  Renouard,  Histoire  de  la  Medecine,  Vol.  I,  p.  398 ; 
Broussais,  Examen  des  Doctrines  Medicales,  Vol.  I,  pp.  261,  262  ;  Grote's  History 
of  Greece,  Vol.  I,  p.  485  (compare  p.  251,  and  Vol.  VI,  p.  213) ;  Grieve's  History 
of  Kamtschatka,  p.  217;  Journal  of  Statistical  Society,  Vol.  X,  p.  10;  Buchanan's 
North  American  Indians,  pp.  256,  257  ;  Halkett's  North  American  Indians,  pp.  36, 
37,  388,  393,  394 ;  Catlin's  North  American  Indians,  Vol.  I,  pp.  35-41  ;  Briggs' 
On  the  Aboriginal  Tribes  of  India,  in  Report  of  British  Association  for  1850, 
p.  172;  Transactions  of  Society  of  Bom  bay,  Vol.  II,  p.  30;  Percival's  Ceylon, 
p.  201 ;  Buchanan's  Journey  through  the  Mysore,  Vol.  II,  pp.  27,  152,  286,  528; 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  23,  iSS,  253  (so,  too,  M.  Geoffrey  Saint-Hilaire,  Anomalies  de  1'Or- 
ganisation,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  380,  says  that  when  we  were  quite  ignorant  of  the  cause 
of  monstrous  births,  the  phenomenon  was  ascribed  to  the  Deity,  —  "  de  la  aussi 
1'intervention  supposee  de  la  divinite  " ;  and  for  an  exact  verification  of  this,  com- 
pare Burdach,  Traite  de  Physiologic,  Vol.  II,  p.  247,  with  Journal  of  Geographical 
Society,  Vol.  XVI,  p.  113);  Ellis'  History  of  Madagascar,  Vol.  I,  pp.  224,  225; 
Prichard's  Physical  History,  Vol.  I,  p.  207 ;  Vol.  V,  p.  492 ;  Journal  of  Asiatic 
Society,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  230 ;  Vol.  IV,  p.  158 ;  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  29,  156 ; 
Vol.  IV,  pp.  56,  58,  74 ;  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  215,  280;  Neander's  History  of  the  Church, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  119;  Crawford's  History  of  the  Indian  Archipelago,  Vol.  I,  p.  328; 
Low's  Sarawak,  pp.  174,  261  ;  Cook's  Voyages,  Vol.  I,  p.  229;  Mariner's  Tonga 
Islands,  Vol.  I,  pp.  194,  350-360,  374,  438;  Vol.  II,  pp.  172,  230;  Hue's  Travels 
in  Tartary  and  Thibet,  Vol.  I,  pp.  74-77  ;  Richardson's  Travels  in  the  Sahara, 
Vol.  I,  p.  27  ;  M'Culloh's  Researches,  p.  105;  Journal  of  Geographical  Society, 
Vol.  I,  p.  41  ;  Vol.  IV,  p.  260;  Vol.  XIV,  p.  37.  And  in  regard  to  Europe,  com- 
pare Spence's  Origin  of  the  Laws  of  Europe,  p.  322  ;  Turner's  History  of  England, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  443;  Phillips  on  Scrofula,  p.  255;  Otter's  Life  of  Clarke,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  265,  266,  which  may  be  illustrated  by  the  "  sacred  "  disease  of  Cambyses,  no 
doubt  epilepsy  (see  Herodotus  Lib.  Ill,  chap,  xxxiv,  Vol.  II,  p.  63). 


254  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

exercised  over  the  human  mind.  For  those  parts  of  Asia  where 
the  highest  refinement  was  reached  are,  from  various  physical 
causes,  much  more  unhealthy  than  the  most  civilized  parts  of 
Europe.1  This  fact  alone  must  have  produced  a  considerable 
effect  on  the  national  character,2  and  the  more  so  as  it  was 
aided  by  those  other  circumstances  which  I  have  pointed  out,  all 
tending  in  the  same  direction.  To  this  may  be  added,  that  the 
great  plagues  by  which  Europe  has  at  different  periods  been 
scourged  have  for  the  most  part  proceeded  from  the  East,  which  is 
their  natural  birthplace,  and  where  they  are  most  fatal.  Indeed, 
of  those  cruel  diseases  now  existing  in  Europe  scarcely  one  is 
indigenous  ;  and  the  worst  of  them  were  imported  from  tropical 
countries  in  and  after  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era.3 

Summing  up  these  facts,  it  may  be  stated  that  in  the  civiliza- 
tions exterior  to  Europe  all  nature  conspired  to  increase  the 
authority  of  the  imaginative  faculties  and  weaken  the  authority 
of  the  reasoning  ones.  With  the  materials  now  existing,  it  would 
be  possible  to  follow  this  vast  law  to  its  remotest  consequences, 
and  show  how  in  Europe  it  is  opposed  by  another  law  diamet- 
rically opposite,  and  by  virtue  of  which  the  tendency  of  natural 
phenomena  is,  on  the  whole,  to  limit  the  imagination  and  em- 
bolden the  understanding,  thus  inspiring  man  with  confidence  in 

1  Heat,  moisture,  and  consequent    rapid  decomposition  of  vegetable  matter 
are  certainly  among  the  causes  of  this ;  and  to  them  may  perhaps  be  added  the 
electrical  state  of  the  atmosphere  in  the  tropics.    Compare  Holland's  Medical 
Notes,  p.  477;   M' William's   Medical  Expedition   to  the  Niger,  pp.   157,   185; 
Simon's  Pathology,  p.  269 ;  Forry's  Climate  and  its  Endemic  Influences,  p.  1 58. 
M.  Lepelletier  says,  rather  vaguely  (Physiologic  Medicale,  Vol.  IV,  p.  527),  that 
the  temperate  zones  are  "favorables  a  1'exercice  complet  et  regulier  des  pheno- 
menes  vitaux." 

2  And  must  have  strengthened  the  power  of  the  clergy ;  for,  as  Charlevoix  says 
with  great  frankness,  "  pestilences  are  the  harvests  of  the  ministers  of  God " 
(Southey's  History  of  Brazil,  Vol.  II,  p.  254). 

8  For  evidence  of  the  extra-European  origin  of  European  diseases,  some  of 
which,  such  as  the  smallpox,  have  passed  from  epidemics  into  endemics,  compare 
Encyclopedia  of  the  Medical  Sciences,  410,  1847,  p.  728;  Transactions  of  Asiatic 
Society,  Vol.  II,  pp.  54,  55;  Michaelis  on  the  Laws  of  Moses,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  313; 
Sprengel,  Histoire  de  la  Medecine,  Vol.  II,  pp.  33,  195 ;  Wallace's  Dissertation 
on  the  Numbers  of  Mankind,  pp.  81,  82;  Huetiana,  Amsterdam,  1723,  pp.  132- 
135;  Sanders  on  the  Smallpox,  pp.  3-4,  Edinburgh,  1813;  Wilks'  History  of 
the  South  of  India,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  16-21  ;  Clot-Bey,  De  la  Peste,  p.  227,  Paris,  1840, 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY   PHYSICAL  LAWS 


255 


his  own  resources,  and  facilitating  the  increase  of  his  knowledge  by 
encouraging  that  bold,  inquisitive,  and  scientific  spirit  which  is  con- 
stantly advancing,  and  on  which  all  future  progress  must  depend. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  I  can  trace  in  detail  the  way  in 
which,  owing  to  these  peculiarities,  the  civilization  of  Europe  has 
diverged  from  all  others  that  preceded  it.  To  do  this  would 
require  a  learning  and  a  reach  of  thought  to  which  hardly  any 
single  man  ought  to  pretend,  since  it  is  one  thing  to  have  a. 
perception  of  a  large  and  general  truth,  and  it  is  another  thing  to 
follow  out  that  truth  in  all  its  ramifications,  and  prove  it  by  such 
evidence  as  will  satisfy  ordinary  readers.  Those,  indeed,  who  are 
accustomed  to  speculations  of  this  character,  and  are  able  to  dis- 
cern in  the  history  of  man  something  more  than  a  mere  relation 
of  events,  will  at  once  understand  that  in  these  complicated  sub- 
jects the  wider  any  generalization  is,  the  greater  will  be  the 
chance  of  apparent  exceptions  ;  and  that  when  the  theory  covers 
a  very  large  space  the  exceptions  may  be  innumerable  and  yet 
the  theory  remain  perfectly  accurate.  The  two  fundamental 
propositions  which  I  hope  to  have  demonstrated  are :  first,  that 
there  are  certain  natural  phenomena  which  act  on  the  human 
mind  by  exciting  the  imagination ;  and  second,  that  those  phe- 
nomena are  much  more  numerous  out  of  Europe  than  in  it.  > 
If  these  two  propositions  are  admitted,  it  inevitably  follows  that 
in  those  countries  where  the  imagination  has  received  the  stimu- 
lus some  specific  effects  must  have  been  produced,  unless,  indeed, 
the  effects  have  been  neutralized  by  other  causes.  Whether  or 
not  there  have  been  antagonistic  causes  is  immaterial  to  the 
truth  of  the  theory,  which  is  based  on  the  two  propositions  just 
stated.  In  a  scientific  point  of  view,  therefore,  the  generalization 
is  complete  ;  and  it  would  perhaps  be  prudent  to  leave  it  as  it 
now  stands  rather  than  attempt  to  confirm  it  by  further  illus- 
trations, since  all  particular  facts  are  liable  to  be  erroneously 
stated,  and  are  sure  to  be  contradicted  by  those  who  dislike  the 
conclusions  they  corroborate.  But  in  order  to  familiarize  the 
reader  with  the  principles  I  have  put  forward,  it  does  seem  advis- 
able that  a  few  instances  should  be  given  of  their  actual  working  ; 
and  I  will  therefore  briefly  notice  the  effects  they  have  produced 


256  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

in  the  three  great  divisions  of  Literature,  Religion,  and  Art.  In 
each  of  these  departments  I  will  endeavor  to  indicate  how  the 
leading  features  have  been  affected  by  the  Aspects  of  Nature  ; 
and  with  a  view  of  simplifying  the  inquiry,  I  will  take  the  two 
most  conspicuous  instances  on  each  side,  and  compare  the  mani- 
festations of  the  intellect  of  Greece  with  those  of  the  intellect 
of  India,  —  these  being  the  two  countries  respecting  which  the 
materials  are  most  ample,  and  in  which  the  physical  contrasts  are 
most  striking. 

If,  then,  we  look  at  the  ancient  literature  of  India,  even  during 
its  best  period,  we  shall  find  the  most  remarkable  evidence  of  the 
uncontrolled  ascendency  of  the  imagination.  In  the  first  place, 
we  have  the  striking  fact  that  scarcely  any  attention  has  been 
paid  to  prose  composition,  all  the  best  writers  having  devoted 
themselves  to  poetry,  as  being  most  congenial  to  the  national 
habits  of  thought.  Their  works  on  grammar,  on  law,  on  history, 
on  medicine,  on  mathematics,  on  geography,  and  on  metaphysics 
are  nearly  all  poems,  and  are  put  together  according  to  a  regular 
system  of  versification.1  The  consequence  is,  that  while  prose 

1 "  So  verwandelt  das  geistige  Leben  des  Hindu  sich  in  wahre  Poesie,  und  das 
bezeichnende  Merkmal  seiner  ganzen  Bildung  ist :  Herrschaft  der  Einbildungskraft 
iiber  den  Verstand ;  im  geraden  Gegensatz  mit  der  Bildung  des  Europaers,  deren 
allgemeiner  Charakter  in  der  Herrschaft  des  Verstandes  iiber  die  Einbildungskraft 
besteht.  Es  \vird  dadurch  begreiflich,  dass  die  Literatur  der  Hindus  nur  eine 
poetische  ist ;  dass  sie  uberreich  an  Dichtenverken,  aber  arm  am  wissenschaftlichen 
Schriften  sind ;  dass  ihre  heiligen  Schriften,  ihre  Gesetze  und  Sagen  poetisch,  und 
grosstentheils  in  Versen  geschrieben  sind;  ja  dass  Lehrbiicher  der  Grammatik, 
der  Heilkunde,  der  Mathematik  und  Erdbeschreibung  in  Versen  verfasst  sind  " 
(Rhode,  Religiose  Bildung  der  Hindus,  Vol.  II,  p.  626).  Thus,  too,  we  are  told, 
respecting  one  of  their  most  celebrated  metaphysical  systems,  that  "  the  best  text  of 
the  Sanchya  is  a  short  treatise  in  verse  "  (Colebrooke  on  the  Philosophy  of  the 
Hindus,  in  Transactions  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  I,  p.  23).  And  in  another  place 
the  same  high  authority  says  (Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  X,  p.  439),  "  The  metrical 
treatises  on  law  and  other  sciences  are  almost  entirely  composed  in  this  easy 
verse."  M.  Klaproth,  in  an  analysis  of  a  Sanskrit  history  of  Cashmere,  says, 
"  Comme  presque  toutes  les  compositions  hindoues,  il  est  ecrit  en  vers  "  (Journal 
Asiatique,  I.  serie,  Vol.  VII,  p.  8,  Paris,  1825).  See  also,  in  Vol.  VI,  pp.  175,  176. 
the  remarks  of  M.  Burnouf,  "  Les  philosophes  indiens,  comme  s'ils  ne  pouvaient 
echapper  aux  influences  poetiques  de  leur  climat.  traitent  les  questions  de  la 
metaphysique  le  plus  abstraite  par  similitudes  et  metaphores."  Compare  Vol.  VI, 
p.  4,  "  le  genie  indien  si  poetique  et  si  religieux  " ;  and  see  Cousin,  Histoire  de  la 
Philosophic,  II.  serie,  Vol.  I,  p.  27. 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      257 

writing  is  utterly  despised,  the  art  of  poetry  has  been  cultivated 
so  assiduously  that  the  Sanskrit  can  boast  of  meters  more  numer- 
ous and  more  complicated  than  have  ever  been  possessed  by  any 
of  the  European  languages.1 

This  peculiarity  in  the  form  of  Indian  literature  is  accompanied 
by  a  corresponding  peculiarity  in  its  spirit.  For  it  is  no  exagger- 
ation to  say,  that  in  that  literature  everything  is  calculated  to  set 
the  reason  of  man  at  open  defiance.  An  imagination,  luxuriant 
even  to  disease,  runs  riot  on  every  occasion.  This  is  particularly 
seen  in  those  productions  which  are  most  eminently  national, 
such  as  the  Ramayana,  the  Mahabharata,  and  the  Puranas  in 
general.  But  we  also  find  it  even  in  their  geographical  and 
chronological  systems,  which  of  all  others  might  be  supposed 
least  liable  to  imaginative  flights.  A  few  examples  of  the  state- 
ments put  forward  in  the  most  authoritative  books  will  supply 
the  means  of  instituting  a  comparison  with  the  totally  opposite 
condition  of  the  European  intellect,  and  will  give  the  reader  some 
idea  of  the  extent  to  which  credulity  can  proceed,  even  among  a 
civilized  people.2 

Of  all  the  various  ways  in  which  the  imagination  has  distorted 
truth,  there  is  none  that  has  worked  so  much  harm  as  an  exagger- 
ated respect  for  past  ages.  This  reverence  for  antiquity  is  repug- 
nant to  every  maxim  of  reason,  and  is  merely  the  indulgence  of 
a  poetic  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  remote  and  unknown.  It  is 
therefore  natural  that,  in  periods  when  the  intellect  was,  com- 
paratively speaking,  inert,  this  sentiment  should  have  been  far 

1  Mr.  Yates  says  of  the  Hindus,  that  no  other  people  have  ever  "presented  an 
equal  variety  of  poetic  compositions.    The  various  meters  of  Greece  and  Rome 
have  rilled  Europe  with  astonishment ;  but  what  are  these,  compared  with  the 
extensive  range  of  Sanskrit  meters  under  its  three  classes  of  poetical  writing  ? " 
(Yates  on  Sanskrit  Alliteration,    in  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  XX,    p.  159,    Cal- 
cutta, 1836).  See  also  on  the  Sanskrit  meters,  p.  321,  and  an  Essay  by  Colebrooke, 
Vol.  X,  pp.  389-474.    On  the  metrical  system  of  the  Vedas,  see  Mr.  Wilson's  note 
in  the  Rig  Veda  Sanhita,  Vol.  II,  p.  135. 

2  In  Europe,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  sixth  chapter  of  this  volume,  the  credulity 
was  at  one  time  extraordinary  ;  but  the  age  was  then  barbarous,  and  barbarism  is 
always  credulous.    On  the  other  hand,  the  examples  gathered  from  Indian  litera- 
ture will  be  taken  from  the  works  of  a  lettered  people,  written  in  a  language 
extremely  rich,  and  so  highly  polished  that  some  competent  judges  have  declared 
it  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  the  Greek. 


258  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

stronger  than  it  now  is  ;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  it  will 
continue  to  grow  weaker,  and  that  in  the  same  proportion  the 
feeling  of  progress  will  gain  ground,  so  that  veneration  for  the 
past  will  be  succeeded  by  hope  for  the  future.  But  formerly 
the  veneration  was  supreme,  and  innumerable  traces  of  it  may  be 
found  in  the  literature  and  popular  creed  of  every  country.  It  is 
this,  for  instance,  which  inspired  the  poets  with  their  notion  of  a 
golden  age,  in  which  the  world  was  rilled  with  peace,  in  which 
evil  passions  were  stilled,  and  crimes  were  unknown.  It  is  this, 
again,  which  gave  to  theologians  their  idea  of  the  primitive  virtue 
and  simplicity  of  man,  and  of  his  subsequent  fall  from  that  high 
estate.  And  it  is  this  same  principle  which  diffused  a  belief  that 
in  the  olden  times  men  were  not  only  more  virtuous  and  happy 
but  also  physically  superior  in  the  structure  of  their  bodies  ;  and 
that  by  this  means  they  attained  to  a  larger  stature  and  lived  to 
a  greater  age  than  is  possible  for  us,  their  feeble  and  degenerate 
descendants. 

Opinions  of  this  kind  being  adopted  by  the  imagination  in  spite 
of  the  understanding,  it  follows  that  the  strength  of  such  opinions 
becomes,  in  any  country,  one  of  the  standards  by  which  we  may 
estimate  the  predominance  of  the  imaginative  faculties.  Apply- 
ing this  test  to  the  literature  of  India,  we  shall  find  a  striking 
confirmation  of  the  conclusions  already  drawn.  The  marvelous 
feats  of  antiquity  with  which  the  Sanskrit  books  abound  are  so 
long  and  so  complicated  that  it  would  occupy  too  much  space  to 
give  even  an  outline  of  them,  but  there  is  one  class  of  these 
singular  fictions  which  is  well  worth  attention  and  admits  of 
being  briefly  stated.  I  allude  to  the  extraordinary  age  which 
man  was  supposed  to  have  attained  in  former  times.  A  belief  in 
the  longevity  of  the  human  race  at  an  early  period  of  the  world 
was  the  natural  product  of  those  feelings  which  ascribed  to  the 
ancients  an  universal  superiority  over  the  moderns;  and  this  we 
see  exemplified  in  some  of  the  Christian,  and  in  many  of  the 
Hebrew,  writings.  But  the  statements  in  these  works  are  tame 
and  insignificant  when  compared  with  what  is  preserved  in  the 
literature  of  India.  On  this,  as  on  every  subject,  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  Hindus  distanced  all  competition.  Thus,  among  an 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED   BY   PHYSICAL  LAWS      259 

immense  number  of  similar  facts  we  find  it  recorded  that  in 
ancient  times  the  duration  of.  the  life  of  common  men  was  eighty 
thousand  years,1  and  that  holy  men  lived  to  be  upwards  of  one 
hundred  thousand.2  Some  died  a  little  sooner,  others  a  little  later ; 
but  in  the  most  flourishing  period  of  antiquity,  if  we  take  all 
classes  together,  one  hundred  thousand  years  was  the  average.3 
Of  one  king,  whose  name  was  Yudhishthir,  it  is  casually  men- 
tioned that  he  reigned  twenty-seven  thousand  years ; 4  while 
another,  called  Alarka,  reigned  sixty-six  thousand.5  They  were  cut 
off  in  their  prime,  since  there  are  several  instances  of  the  early 
poets  living  to  be  about  half  a  million.6  But  the  most  remarkable 
case  is  that  of  a  very  shining  character  in  Indian  history,  who 
united  in  his  single  person  the  functions  of  a  king  and  a  saint. 
This  eminent  man  lived  in  a  pure  and  virtuous  age,  and  his  days 
were  indeed  long  in  the  land,  since  when  he  was  made  king 
he  was  two  million  years  old ;  he  then  reigned  six  million  three 
hundred  thousand  years ;  having  done  which,  he  resigned  his 
empire,  and  lingered  on  for  one  hundred  thousand  years  more.7 

1  "  The  limit  of  life  was  80,000  years  "  (Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  XVI,  p.  456, 
Calcutta,  1828).   This  was  likewise  the  estimate  of  the  Tibetan  divines,  according 
to  whom  men  formerly  "parvenaient  a  1'age  de  80,000  ans"  {Journal  Asiatique,  I. 
serie,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  199,  Paris,  1823). 

2  "  Den  Hindu  macht  dieser  Widerspruch  nicht  verlegen,  da  er  seine  Heiligen 
100,000  Jahre  und  langer  leben  lasst "  (Rhode,  Religiose  Bildung  der  Hindus,  Vol.  I, 

P-  175)- 

8  In  the  Dabistan,  Vol.  II,  p.  47,  it  is  stated  of  the  earliest  inhabitants  of  the 

world  that  "  the  duration  of  human  life  in  this  age  extended  to  one  hundred 
thousand  common  years." 

*  Wilford  (Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  V,  p.  242)  says,  "  When  the  Puranas  speak 
of  the  kings  of  ancient  times,  they  are  equally  extravagant.  According  to  them, 
King  Yudhishthir  reigned  seven-and-twenty  thousand  years." 

6  "  For  sixty  thousand  and  sixty  hundred  years  no  other  youthful  monarch 
except  Alarka  reigned  over  the  earth  "  (Vishnu  Purana,  p.  408). 

6  And  sometimes  more.    In  the  Essay  on  Indian  Chronology  in  Works  of  Sir 
W.  Jones,  Vol.  I,  p.  325,  we  hear  of  "  a  conversation  between  Valmic  and  Vyasa, 
.  .  .  two  bards  whose  ages  were  separated  by  a  period  of  864,000  years."    This 
passage  is  also  in  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  II,  p.  399. 

7  "  He  was  the  first  king,  first  anchoret,  and  first  saint,  and  is  therefore  entitled 
Prathama-Raja,  Prathama  Bhicshacara,  Prathama  Jina,  and  Prathama  Tirthancara. 
At  the  time  of  his  inauguration  as  king  his  age  was  two  million  years.    He  reigned 
six  million  three  hundred  thousand  years,  and  then  resigned  his  empire  to  his  sons  : 
and  having  employed  one  hundred  thousand  years  in  passing  through  the  several 


260  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  same  boundless  reverence  for  antiquity  made  the  Hindus 
refer  everything  important  to  the  most  distant  periods,  and  they 
frequently  assign  a  date  which  is  absolutely  bewildering.1  Their 
great  collection  of  laws,  called  the  Institutes  of  Manu,  is  certainly 
less  than  three  thousand  years  old  ;  but  the  Indian  chronologists, 
so  far  from  being  satisfied  with  this,  ascribe  to  them  an  age  that  the 
sober  European  mind  finds  a  difficulty  even  in  conceiving.  Accord- 
ing to  the  best  native  authorities,  these  Institutes  were  revealed 
to  man  about  two  thousand  million  years  before  the  present  era.2 

All  this  is  but  a  part  of  that  love  of  the  remote,  that  straining 
after  the  infinite,  and  that  indifference  to  the  present,  which 
characterizes  every  branch  of  the  Indian  intellect.  Not  only  in 
literature,  but  also  in  religion  and  in  art,  this  tendency  is  supreme. 
To  subjugate  the  understanding  and  exalt  the  imagination  is 
the  universal  principle.  In  the  dogmas  of  their  theology,  in  the 
character  of  their  gods,  and  even  in  the  forms  of  their  temples 
we  see  how  the  sublime  and  threatening  aspects  of  the  external 
world  have  filled  the  mind  of  the  people  with  those  images  of  the 
grand  and  the  terrible  which  they  strive  to  reproduce  in  a  visible 
form  and  to  which  they  owe  the  -leading  peculiarities  of  their 
national  culture. 

Our  view  of  this  vast  process  may  be  made  clearer  by  compar- 
ing it  with  the  opposite  condition  of  Greece.  In  Greece  we  see  a 
country  altogether  the  reverse  of  India.  The  works  of  nature,  which 
in  India  are  of  startling  magnitude,  are  in  Greece  far  smaller, 
feebler,  and  in  every  way  less  threatening  to  man.  In  the  great 
center  of  Asiatic  civilization  the  energies  of  the  human  race  are 
confined  and,  as  it  were,  intimidated  by  the  surrounding  phenom- 
ena. Besides  the  dangers  incidental  to  tropical  climates,  there 

stages  of  austerity  and  sanctity,  departed  from  this  world  on  the  summit  of  a 
mountain  named  Ashtapada"  (Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  IX,  p.  305). 

1  "  Speculationen  liber  Zahlen  sind  dem    Inder  so  gelaufig,  dass  selbst  die 
Sprache  einen  Ausdruck  hat  fur  eine  Unitat  mit  63  Nullen,  namlich  Asanke,  eben 
well  die  Berechnung  der  Weltperioden  diese  enorme  Grossen  nothwendig  machte, 
denn  jene  einfachen  12,000  Jahre  schienen  einem  Volke,  welches  so  gerne  die 
hochstmogliche  Potenz  auf  seine  Gottheit  iibertragen  mogte,  viel  zu  geringe  zu 
seyn  "  (Bohlen,  Das  alte  Indien,  Vol.  II,  p.  298). 

2  Elphinstone's  History  of  India,  p.  136,  "a  period  exceeding  4,320,000  multi- 
plied by  six  times  seventy-one." 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      261 

are  those  noble  mountains  which  seem  to  touch  the  sky,  and 
from  whose  sides  are  discharged  mighty  rivers  which  no  art  can 
divert  from  their  course  and  which  no  bridge  has  ever  been  able 
to  span.  There,  too,  are  impassable  forests,  whole  countries  lined 
with  interminable  jungle,  and  beyond  them,  again,  dreary  and 
boundless  deserts,  —  all  teaching  man  his  own  feebleness  and  his 
inability  to  cope  with  natural  forces.  Without,  and  on  either 
side,  there  are  great  seas,  ravaged  by  tempests  far  more  destruc- 
tive than  any  known  in  Europe,  and  of  such  sudden  violence 
that  it  is  impossible  to  guard  against  their  effects.  And  as  if  in 
those  regions  everything  combined  to  cramp  the  activity  of  man, 
the  whole  line  of  coast,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Ganges  to  the 
extreme  south  of  the  peninsula,  does  not  contain  a  single  safe 
and  capacious  harbor,  not  one  port  that  affords  a  refuge,  which 
is  perhaps  more  necessary  there  than  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world.1 

But  in  Greece  the  Aspects  of  Nature  are  so  entirely  different 
that  the  very  conditions  of  existence  are  changed.  Greece,  like 
India,  forms  a  peninsula ;  but  while  in  the  Asiatic  country  every- 
thing is  great  and  terrible,  in.  the  European  country  everything 
is  small  and  feeble.  The  whole  of  Greece  occupies  a  space  some- 
what less  than  the  kingdom  of  Portugal,2  that  is,  about  a  fortieth 
part  of  what  is  now  called  Hindustan.3  Situated  in  the  most 
accessible  part  of  a  narrow  sea,  it  had  easy  contact  on  the  east 
with  Asia  Minor,  on  the  west  with  Italy,  on  the  south  with  Egypt. 
Dangers  of  all  kinds  were  far  less  numerous  than  in  the  tropical 

1  Byrnes  (Embassy  to  Ava,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  278)  says,  "  From  the  mouth  of  the 
Ganges  to  Cape  Comorin,  the  whole  range  of  our  continental  territory,  there  is 
not  a  single  harbor  capable  of  affording  shelter  to  a  vessel  of  500  tons  burden." 
Indeed,  according  to  Percival,  there  is,  with  the  exception  of  Bombay,  no  harbor, 
"  either  on  the  Coromandel  or  Malabar  coasts,  in  which  ships  can  moor  in  safety 
at  all  seasons  of  the  year"  (Percival's  Account  of  Ceylon,  pp.  2,  15,  66). 

2  "  Altogether  its  area  is  somewhat  less  than  that  of  Portugal."    See  Grote's 
History  of  Greece,  Vol.  II,  p.  302 ;  and  the  same  remark  in  Thirlwall's  History  of 
Greece,  Vol.  I,  p.  2,  and  in  Heeren's  Ancient  Greece,  1845,  P-  Io^     M.  Heeren 
says,  "  But  even  if  we  add  all  the  islands,  its  square  contents  are  a  third  less  than 
those  of  Portugal." 

8  The  area  of  Hindustan  being,  according  to  Mr.  M'Culloch  (Geographical 
Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  I,  p.  993),  "between  one  million  two  hundred  thousand 
and  one  million  three  hundred  thousand  square  miles." 


262  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

civilizations.  The  climate  was  more  healthy  ; 1  earthquakes  were 
less  frequent ;  hurricanes  were  less  disastrous ;  wild  beasts  and 
noxious  animals,  less  abundant.  In  regard  to  the  other  great 
features  the  same  law  prevails.  The  highest  mountains  in  Greece 
are  less  than  one  third  of  the  Himalaya,  so  that  nowhere  do  they 
reach  the  limit  of  perpetual  snow.2  As  to  rivers,  not  only  is 
there  nothing  approaching  those  imposing  volumes  which  are 
poured  down  from  the  mountains  of  Asia,  but  nature  is  so 
singularly  sluggish  that  neither  in  northern  nor  in  southern 
Greece  do  we  find  anything  beyond  a  few  streams  which  are 
easily  forded,  and  which,  indeed,  in  the  summer  season,  are 
frequently  dried  up.3 

These  striking  differences  in  the  material  phenomena  of  the 
two  countries  gave  rise  to  corresponding  differences  in  their 
mental  associations.  For  as  all  ideas  must  arise  partly  from 
what  are  called  spontaneous  operations  in  the  mind,  and  partly 
from  what  is  suggested  to  the  mind  by  the  external  world,  it  was 
natural  that  so  great  an  alteration  in  one  of  the  causes  should 
produce  an  alteration  in  the  effects.  The  tendency  of  the  sur- 
rounding phenomena  was,  in  India,  to  inspire  fear;  in  Greece, 
to  give  confidence.  In  India  man  was  intimidated;  in  Greece 
he  was  encouraged.  In  India  obstacles  of  every  sort  were  so 
numerous,  so  alarming,  and  apparently  so  inexplicable  that  the 
difficulties  of  life  could  only  be  solved  by  constantly  appealing  to 

1  In  the  best  days  of  Greece  those  alarming  epidemics  by  which  the  country 
was  subsequently  ravaged  were  comparatively  little  known.     See  Thirlwall's  His- 
tory of  Greece,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  134;  Vol.  VIII,  p.  471.    This  may  be  owing  to  large 
cosmical  causes,  or  to  the  simple  fact  that  the  different  forms  of  pestilence  had 
not  yet  been  imported  from  the  East  by  actual  contact.    On  the  vague  accounts 
we  possess  of  the  earlier  plagues,  see  Clot-Bey,  De  la  Peste,  pp.  21,  46,  184,  Paris, 
1840.    The  relation  even  of  Thucydides  is  more  satisfactory  to  scholars  than  to 
pathologists. 

2  "  Mount  Guiona,  the  highest  point  in  Greece,  and  near  its  northern  boundary, 
is  8239  feet  high.  .  .  .    No  mountain  in  Greece  reaches  the  limit  of  perpetual 
snow"  (M'Culloch's  Geographical  Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  I,  p.  924).    Compare  the 
table  of  mountains  in  Baker's  Memoir  on  North  Greece,  in  Journal  of  Geograph- 
ical Society,  Vol.  VII,  p.  94,  with  Bakewell's  Geology,  pp.  621,  622. 

8  "Greece  has  no  navigable  river"  (M'Culloch's  Geographical  Dictionary, 
Vol.  I,  p.  924).  "  Most  of  the  rivers  of  Greece  are  torrents  in  early  spring,  and 
dry  before  the  end  of  the  summer  "  (Crete's  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  II,  p.  286). 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      263 

the  direct  agency  of  supernatural  causes.  Those  causes  being 
beyond  the  province  of  the  understanding,  the  resources  of  the 
imagination  were  incessantly  occupied  in  studying  them  ;  the 
imagination  itself  was  overworked,  its  activity  became  dangerous, 
it  encroached  on  the  understanding,  and  the  equilibrium  of  the 
whole  was  destroyed.  In  Greece  opposite  circumstances  were 
followed  by  opposite  results.  In  Greece  nature  was  less  danger- 
ous, less  intrusive,  and  less  mysterious  than  in  India.  In  Greece, 
therefore,  the  human  mind  was  less  appalled,  and  less  super- 
stitious ;  natural  causes  began  to  be  studied  ;  physical  science 
first  became  possible;  and  man,  gradually  waking  to  a  sense 
of  his  own  power,  sought  to  investigate  events  with  a  boldness 
not  to  be  expected  in  those  other  countries  where  the  pressure 
of  nature  troubled  his  independence  and  suggested  ideas  with 
which  knowledge  is  incompatible. 

The  effect  of  these  habits  of  thought  on  the  national  religion 
must  be  very  obvious  to  whoever  has  compared  the  popular  creed 
of  India  with  that  of  Greece.  The  mythology  of  India,  like  that 
of  every  tropical  country,  is  based  upon  terror,  and  upon  terror, 
too,  of  the  most  extravagant  kind.  Evidence  of  the  universality 
of  this  feeling  abounds  in  the  sacred  books  of  the  Hindus,  in 
their  traditions,  and  even  in  the  very  form  and  appearance  of 
their  gods.  And  so  deeply  is  all  this  impressed  on  the  mind  that 
the  most  popular  deities  are  invariably  those  with  whom  images 
of  fear  are  most  intimately  associated.  Thus,  for  example,  the 
worship  of  Siva  is  more  general  than  any  other ;  and  as  to  its 
antiquity,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  borrowed  by  the 
Brahmins  from  the  original  Indians.1  At  all  events,  it  is  very 

1  See  Stevenson  on  the  Ante-Brahmanical  Religion  of  the  Hindus,  in  Jour- 
nal of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  VIII,  pp.  331,  332,  336,  338.  Mr.  Wilson  {Journal, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  204)  says,  "  The  prevailing  form  of  the  Hindu  religion  in  the  south  of 
the  peninsula  was,  at  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era,  and  some  time 
before  it  most  probably,  that  of^giva."  See  also  Vol.  V,  p.  85,  where  it  is  stated 
that  Siva  "  is  the  only  Hindu  god  to  whom  honor  is  done  at  Ellora."  Compare 
Transactions  of  Society  of  Bombay,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  521  ;  Heeren's  Asiatic  Nations, 
1846,  Vol.  II,  pp.  62,  66.  On  the  philosophical  relation  between  the  followers  of 
Siva  and  those  of  Vishnu,  see  Ritter's  History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,  Vol.  IV, 
pp.  334,  335;  and  the  noticeable  fact  (Buchanan's  Mysore,  Vol.  II,  p.  410),  that 
even  the  Naimar  caste,  whose  "  proper  deity  "  is  Vishnu,  "  wear  on  their  foreheads 


264  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

ancient  and  very  popular ;  and  Siva  himself  forms,  with  Brahma 
and  Vishnu,  the  celebrated  Hindu  Triad.  We  need  not,  there- 
fore, be  surprised  that  with  this  god  are  connected  images  of 
terror,  such  as  nothing  but  a  tropical  imagination  could  conceive. 
Siva  is  represented  to  the  Indian  mind  as  a  hideous  being, 
encircled  by  a  girdle  of  snakes,  with  a  human  skull  in  his  hand, 
and  wearing  a  necklace  composed  of  human  bones.  He  has 
three  eyes ;  the  ferocity  of  his  temper  is  marked  by  his  being 
clothed  in  a  tiger's  skin ;  he  is  represented  as  wandering  about 
like  a  madman,  and  over  his  left  shoulder  the  deadly  cobra  de 
capello  rears  its  head.  This  monstrous  creation  of  an  awe-struck 
fancy  has  a  wife  Doorga,  called  sometimes  Kali  and  sometimes 
by  other  names.1  She  has  a  body  of  dark  blue  ;  while  the  palms 
of  her  hands  are  red,  to  indicate  her  insatiate  appetite  for  blood. 
She  has  four  arms,  with  one  of  which  she  carries  the  skull  of  a 
giant ;  her  tongue  protrudes,  and  hangs  lollingly  from  her  mouth  ; 
round  her  waist  are  the  hands  of  her  victims ;  and  her  neck  is 
adorned  with  human  heads  strung  together  in  a  ghastly  row.2 

If  we  now  turn  to  Greece  we  find,  even  in  the  infancy  of  its 
religion,  not  the  faintest  trace  of  anything  approaching  to  this. 
For  in  Greece,  the  causes  of  fear  being  less  abundant,  the 
expression  of  terror  was  less  common.  The  Greeks,  therefore, 
were  by  no  means  disposed  to  incorporate  into  their  religion 
those  feelings  of  dread  natural  to  the  Hindus.  The  tendency  of 
Asiatic  civilization  was  to  widen  the  distance  between  men  and 
their  deities  ;  the  tendency  of  Greek  civilization  was  to  diminish 
it.  Thus  it  is  that  in  Hindustan  all  the  gods  had  something 

the  mark  of  Siva."  As  to  the  worship  of  Siva  in  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
see  ThirlwalFs  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  II,  p.  36 ;  and  for  further  evidence  of  its 
extent,  Bohlen,  Das  alte  Indien,  Vol.  I,  pp.  29,  147,  206,  and  Transactions  of 
Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  II,  pp.  50,  294. 

1  So  it  is  generally  stated  by  the   Hindu  theologians ;  but  according  to  Ram- 
mohun  Roy,  Siva  had  two  wives.     See  Rammohdft  Roy  on  the  Veds,  p.  90. 

2  On  these  attributes  and  representations  of    Siva  and  Doorga,  see   Rhode, 
Religiose   Bildung  der  Hindus,  Vol.  II,  p.  241 ;    Coleman's   Mythology  of  the 
Hindus,  pp.  63,  92 ;  Bohlen,  Das  alte  Indien,  Vol.  I,  p.  207 ;  Ward's  Religion  of 
the  Hindoos,  Vol.   I,  pp.  xxxvii,   27,   145;    Transactions  of  Society  of  Bombay, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  215,  221.    Compare  the  curious  account  of  an  image  supposed  to  rep- 
resent Mahadeo,  in  Journal  Asiatique,  I.  serie,  Vol.  I,  p.  354,  Paris,  1822. 


INFLUENCE   EXERCISED   BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       265 

monstrous  about  them :  as  Vishnu  with  four  hands,  Brahma  with 
five  heads,  and  the  like.1  But  the  gods  of  Greece  were  always 
represented  in  forms  entirely  human.2  In  that  country  no  artist 
would  have  gained  attention  if  he  had  presumed  to  portray  them 
in  any  other  shape.  He  might  make  them  stronger  than  men,  he 
might  make  them  more  beautiful ;  but  still  they  must  be  men. 
The  analogy  between  God  and  man,  which  excited  the  religious 
feelings  of  the  Greeks,  would  have  been  fatal  to  those  of  the 
Hindus. 

This  difference  between  the  artistic  expressions  of  the  two 
religions  was  accompanied  by  an  exactly  similar  difference  between 
their  theological  traditions.  In  the  Indian  books  the  imagination 
is  exhausted  in  relating  the  feats  of  the  gods ;  and  the  more 
obviously  impossible  any  achievement  is,  the  greater  the  pleasure 
with  which  it  was  ascribed  to  them.  But  the  Greek  gods  had  not 
only  human  forms  but  also  human  attributes,  human  pursuits, 
and  human  tastes.3  The  men  of  Asia,  to  whom  every  object  of 

1  Ward  on  the  Religion  of  the  Hindoos,  Vol.  I,  p.  35  ;  Transactions  of  Society 
of  Bombay,  Vol.  I,  p.  223.     Compare  the  gloss  in  the  Dabistan,  Vol.  II,  p.  202. 

2  "  The  Greek  gods  were  formed  like  men,  with  greatly  increased  powers  and 
faculties,  and  acted  as  men  would  do  if  so  circumstanced,  but  with  a  dignity 
and  energy  suited  to  their  nearer  approach  to  perfection.     The  Hindu  gods,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  endued  with  human  passions,  have  always  something 
monstrous  in  their  appearance,  and  wild  and  capricious  in  their  conduct.     They 
are  of  various  colors,  red,  yellow,  and  blue ;  some  have  twelve  heads,  and  some 
have  four  hands.    They  are  often  enraged  without  a  cause,  and  reconciled  without 
a  motive"  (Elphinstone's  History  of  India,  pp.  96,  97).     See  also  Erskine  on  the 
Temple  of  Elephanta,  in  Transactions  of  Society  of  Bombay,  Vol.  I,  p.  246 ;  and 
the  Dabistan,  Vol.  I,  p.  cxi. 

8  "  In  the  material  polytheism  of  other  leading  ancient  nations  the  Egyptians, 
for  example,  the  incarnation  of  the  Deity  was  chiefly,  or  exclusively,  confined  to 
animals,  monsters,  or  other  fanciful  emblems.  ...  In  Greece,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  was  an  almost  necessary  result  of  the  spirit  and  grace  with  which  the  deities 
were  embodied  in  human  forms,  that  they  should  also  be  burdened  with  human 
interests  and  passions.  Heaven,  like  earth,  had  its  courts  and  palaces,  its  trades 
and  professions,  its  marriages,  intrigues,  divorces  "  (Mure's  History  of  the  Litera- 
ture of  Ancient  Greece,  Vol.  I,  pp.  471,  472).  So,  too,  Tennemann  (Geschichte 
der  Philosophic,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  419) :  "  Diese  Gotter  haben  Menschengestalt.  .  .  . 
Haben  die  Gotter  aber  nicht  nur  menschliche  Gestalt,  sondern  auch  einen  men- 
schlichen  Korper,  so  sind  sie  als  Menschen  auch  denselben  Unvollkommenheiten, 
Krankheiten  und  dem  Tode  unterworfen ;  dieses  streitet  mil  dem  Begriffe,"  i.e.  of 
Epicurus.  Compare  Grote's  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  I,  p.  596 :  "  The  mythical 


266  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

nature  was  a  source  of  awe,  acquired  such  habits  of  reverence 
that  they  never  dared  to  assimilate  their  own  actions  with  the 
actions  of  their  deities.  The  men  of  Europe,  encouraged  by  the 
safety  and  inertness  of  the  material  world,  did  not  fear  to  strike 
a  parallel,  from  which  they  would  have  shrunk  had  they  lived 
amid  the  dangers  of  a  tropical  country.  It  is  thus  that  the  Greek 
divinities  are  so  different  from  those  of  the  Hindus  that  in  com- 
paring them  we  seem  to  pass  from  one  creation  into  another. 
The  Greeks  generalized  their  observations  upon  the  human  mind, 
and  then  applied  them  to  the  gods.1  The  coldness  of  women  was 
figured  in  Diana  ;  their  beauty  and  sensuality  in  Venus ;  their  pride 
in  Juno  ;  their  accomplishments  in  Minerva.  To  the  ordinary 
avocations  of  the  gods  the  same  principle  was  applied.  Neptune 
was  a  sailor ;  "Vulcan  was  a  smith ;  Apollo  was  sometimes  a  fid- 
dler, sometimes  a  poet,  sometimes  a  keeper  of  oxen.  As  to  Cupid, 
he  was  a  wanton  boy,  who  played  with  his  bow  and  arrows ; 
Jupiter  was  an  amorous  and  good-natured  king ;  while  Mercury 
was  indifferently  represented  either  as  a  trustworthy  messenger 
or  else  as  a  common  and  notorious  thief. 

Precisely  the  same,  tendency  to  approximate  human  forces 
towards  superhuman  ones  is  displayed  in  another  peculiarity  of 
the  Greek  religion.  I  mean,  that  in  Greece  we  for  the  first  time 
meet  with  hero  worship,  that  is,  the  deification  of  mortals.  Accord- 
ing to  the  principles  already  laid  down,  this  could  not  be  expected 
in  a  tropical  civilization,  where  the  Aspects  of  Nature  filled 
man  with  a  constant  sense  of  his  "own  incapacity.  It  is  there- 
fore natural  that  it  should  form  no  part  of  the  ancient  Indian 
religion  ; 2  neither  was  it  known  to  the  Egyptians,3  nor  to  the 

age  was  peopled  with  a  mingled  aggregate  of  gods,  heroes,  and  men,  so  con- 
founded together  that  it  was  often  impossible  to  distinguish  to  which  class  any 
individual  name  belonged."  See  also  the  complaint  of  Xenophanes,  in  Miiller's 
History  of  Literature  of  Greece,  p.  251,  London,  1856. 

1  The  same  remark  appliesto  beauty  of  form,  which  they  first  aimed  at  in  the 
statues  of  men,  and  then  brought  to  bear  upon  the  statues  of  the  gods.    This  is  well 
put  in  Mr.  Grote's  important  work,  History  of  Greece,  1847,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  133,  134. 

2  "  But  the  worship  of  deified  heroes  is  no  part  of  that  system  "  (Colebrooke 
on  the  Vedas,  in  Asiatic  Researched,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  495). 

8  Mackay's  Religious  Development,  Vol.  II,  p.  53,  London,  1850  Compare 
Wilkinson's  Ancient  Egyptians,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  148,  318,  and  Matter,  Histoire  de 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS      267 

Persians,1  nor,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  to  the  Arabians.2  But  in 
Greece  man  being  less  humbled,  and  as  it  were  less  eclipsed,  by 
the  external  world,  thought  more  of  his  own  powers,  and  human 
nature  did  not  fall  into  that  discredit  in  which  it  elsewhere  sank. 
The  consequence  was,  that  the  deification  of  mortals  was  a 
recognized  part  of  the  national  religion  at  a  very  early  period  in 
the  history  of  Greece ; 3  and  this  has  been  found  so  natural  to 
Europeans  that  the  same  custom  was  afterwards  renewed  with 
eminent  success  by  the  Romish  Church.  Other  circumstances 
of  a  very  different  character  are  gradually  eradicating  this  form 
of  idolatry  ;  but  its  existence  is  worth  observing  as  one  of  the 
innumerable  illustrations  of  the  way  in  which  European  civili- 
zation has  diverged  from  all  those  that  preceded  it.4 

It  is  thus  that  in  Greece  everything  tended  to  exalt  the  dignity 
of  man,  while  in  India  everything  tended  to  depress  it.5  To  sum 

Pficole  d'Alexandrie,  Vol.  I,  p.  2  ;  the  "  culte  des  grands  hommes,"  which  after- 
wards arose  in  Alexandria  (Matter,  Vol.  I,  p.  54)  must  have  been  owing  to  Greek 
influence. 

1  There  are  no  indications  of  it  in  the  Zendavesta ;  and  Herodotus  says  that 
the  Persians  were  unlike  the  Greeks,  in  so  far  as  they  disbelieved  in  a  god  having 
a  human  form  (Book  I,  chap,  cxxxi,  Vol.  I,  p.  308 :  'otf/c  ai>6pwiro<t>vtas  MHUFO.V 
robs  0eoi)s,  Ka.Ta.irep  ol  "EXX^cej,  tJvcu). 

2  I  am  not  acquainted  with  any  evidence  connecting  this  worship  with  the  old 
Arabian  religion,  and  it  was  certainly  most  alien  to  the  spirit  of  Mohammedanism. 

3  Mure's  History  of  the  Literature  of  Greece,  Vol.  I,  pp.  28,  500 ;  Vol.  II,  p.  402  : 
very  good  remarks  on  a  subject  handled  unsatisfactorily  by  Coleridge  (Literary 
Remains,  Vol.  I,  p.  18^).     Thirlwall   (History  of  Greece,  Vol.  I,  p.  207)  admits 
that  "  the  views  and  feelings  out  of  which  it  (the  worship  of  heroes)  arose  seem 
to  be  clearly  discernible  in  the  Homeric  poems."     Compare  Cudworth's  Intellec- 
tual System,  Vol.  II,  pp.   226,  372.     In   the  Cratylus,  chap,  xxxiii,  Socrates  is 
represented  as  asking,  OVK  ol<rOa  8n  i]/j.l6eoi  ol  ypwes  (Platonis  Opera, Vol.  IV,  p.  227, 
edit.  Bekker,  London,  1826).     And  in  the  next  century  Alexander  obtained  for 
his  friend  Hephasstion  the  right  of  being  "  worshiped  as  a  hero  "  (Grote's  His- 
tory of  Greece,  Vol.  XII,  p.  339).  ^^~ 

*  The  adoration  of  the  dead,  and  particulaij^^fc  adoration  of  martyrs,  was 
one  great  point  of  opposition  between  the  orth^^^^hurch  and  the  Manicheans 
(Beausobre,  Histoire  Critique  de  Manichee,  VonB^p.  316;  Vol.  II,  pp.  651,  669) ; 
and  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  abhorren^ucI^Mjractice  must  have  been  to  the 
Persian  heretics.  ^B 

6  M.  Cousin,  in  his  eloquent  and  inge^^^HB^^( Histoire  de  la  Philosophie, 
III.  serie,  Vol.  I,  pp.  183-187),  has  some  jumcious  observations  on  what  he  calls 
"  1'epoque  de  1'infini "  of  the  East,  contrasted  with  that  "  du  fini,"  which  began  in 
Europe.  But  as  to  the  physical  causes  of  this,  he  only  admits  the  grandeur  of 


268  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL   PROGRESS 

up  the  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Greeks  had  more  respect 
for  human  powers,  the  Hindus  for  superhuman.  The  first  dealt 
more  with  the  known  and  available  ;  the  other  with  the  unknown 
and  mysterious.1  And  by  a  parity  of  reasoning,  the  imagination, 
which  the  Hindus,  being  oppressed  by  the  pomp  and  majesty  of 
nature,  never  sought  to  control,  lost  its  supremacy  in  the  little 
peninsula  of  ancient  Greece.  In  Greece,  for  the  first  time  in  the 
history  of  the  world,  the  imagination  was  in  some  degree  tem- 
pered and  confined  by  the  understanding.  Not  that  its  strength 
was  impaired,  or  its  vitality  diminished.  It  was  broken  in  and 
tamed  ;  its  exuberance  was  checked,  its  follies  were  chastised. 
But  that  its  energy  remained,  we  have  ample  proof  in  those  pro- 
ductions of  the  Greek  mind  which  have  survived  to  our  own  time. 
The  gain,  therefore,  was  complete,  since  the  inquiring  and  skep- 
tical faculties  of  the  human  understanding  were  cultivated, 
without  destroying  the  reverential  and  poetic  instincts  of  the 
imagination.  Whether  or  not  the  balance  was  accurately  adjusted 
is  another  question  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  the  adjustment  was 
more  nearly  arrived  at  in  Greece  than  in  any  previous  civilization.2 
There  can,  I  think,  be  little  doubt  that,  notwithstanding  what 

nature,  overlooking  those  natural  elements  of  mystery  and  of  danger  by  which 
religious  sentiments  were  constantly  excited. 

1  A  learned  Orientalist  says  that  no  people  have  made  such  efforts  as  the 
Hindus  "  to  solve,  exhaust,  comprehend,  what  is  insolvable,  inexhaustible,  incom- 
prehensible "  (Troyer's  Preliminary  Discourse  on  the  Dabistan,  Vol.  I,  p.  cviii). 

2  This  is  noticed  by  Tennemann,  who,  however,  has  not  attempted  to  ascertain 
the  cause  :   "  Die  Einbildungskraft  des  Griechen  war  schopferisch,  sie  schuf  in 
seinen  Innern  neue  Ideenwelten  ;  aber  er  wurde  doch  nie  verleitet,  die  idealische 
Welt   mit  der  wirklichen  zu  verwechseln,  weil  sie  immer  mit  einem  richtigen 
Verstande  und  gesunder  Beurtheilungskraft   verbunden  war"  (Geschichte    der 
Philosophic,  Vol.  I,  p.  8) ;  and  in  Vol.  VI,  p.  490,  he  says :  "  Bei  alien  diesen  Mangeln 
und  Fehlem  sind  doch  die  Griechen  die  einzige  Nation  der  alien  Welt,  welche 
Sinn  fur  Wissenschaft  ha^^und  zu  diesem  Behufe  forschte.     Sie  haben  doch 
die  Bahn  gebrochen,  undM^BVeg  zur  Wissenschaft  geebnet."     To  the  same 
effect,  see  Sprengel,  Histoi^^^fca  Medecine,  Vol.  I,  p.  215.    And  on  this  distance 
between  the    Eastern  and  tl^Wiuropean  mind,  see  Matter,   Histoire    du  Gnos- 
ticisme,  Vol.  I,  pp.  18,  233,^j^^^^too,  Kant  (Logik,  in  Kant's  Werke,  Vol.  I, 
p.  350):  "Unter  alien  Volk^B          ^^Iso  die  Griechen  erst  angefangen  zu  philo- 
sophiren.    Denn  sie  haben  z^P^^Hrcht,  nicht  an  dem  Leitfaden  der  Bilder  die 
Vernunfterkenntnisse  zu  cultiviren,  sondern  in  abstracto ;  statt  dass  die  anderen 
Volker  sich   die   Begriffe  immer  nur  durch  Bilder   in  concrete   verstandlich   zu 
machen  suchten." 


INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY  PHYSICAL  LAWS       269 

was  effected,  too  much  authority  was  left  to  the  imaginative  fac- 
ulties, and  that  the  purely  reasoning  ones  did  not  receive,  and 
never  have  received,  sufficient  attention.  Still,  this  does  not 
affect  the  great  fact  that  the  Greek  literature  is  the  first  in  which 
this  deficiency  was  somewhat  remedied,  and  in  which  there  was 
a  deliberate  and  systematic  attempt  to  test  all  opinions  by  their 
consonance  with  human  reason,  and  thus  vindicate  the  right  of 
man  to  judge  for  himself  on  matters  which  are  of  supreme  and 
incalculable  importance. 

I  have  selected  India  and  Greece  as  the  two  terms  of  the 
preceding  comparison,  because  our  information  respecting  those 
countries  is  most  extensive,  and  has  been  most  carefully  arranged. 
But  everything  we  know  of  the  other  tropical  civilizations  con- 
firms the  views  I  have  advocated  respecting  the  effects  produced 
by  the  Aspects  of  Nature.  In  Central  America  extensive  exca- 
vations have  been  made,  and  what  has  been  brought  to  light 
proves  that  the  national  religion  was,  like  that  of  India,  a  system 
of  complete  and  unmitigated  terror.1  Neither  there  nor  in 
Mexico,  nor  in  Peru,  nor  in  Egypt,  did  the  people  desire  to  repre- 
sent their  deities  in  human  forms,  or  ascribe  to  them  human 
attributes.  Even  their  temples  are  huge  buildings,  often  con- 
structed with  great  skill,  but  showing  an  evident  wish  to  impress 
the  mind  with  fear,  and  offering  a  striking  contrast  to  the  lighter 
and  smaller  structures  which  the  Greeks  employed  for  religious 
purposes.  Thus,  even  in  the  style  of  architecture  do  we  see  the 
same  principle  at  work ;  the  dangers  of  the  tropical  civilization 
being  more  suggestive  of  the  infinite,  while  the  safety  of  the 
European  civilization  was  more  suggestive  of  the  finite.  To  fol- 
low out  the  consequences  of  this  great  antagonism,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  indicate  how  the  infinite,  the  imaginative,  the  syn- 
thetic, and  the  deductive  are  all  connected  ;  and  are  opposed,  on 
the  other  hand,  by  the  finite,  the  skeptical,  the  analytic,  and  the 

1  Thus,  of  one  of  the  idols  at  Copan,  "  The  intention  of  the  sculptor  seems  to 
have  been  to  excite  terror"  (Stephens'  Central  America,  Vol.  I,  p.  152);  at 
p.  159,  "  The  form  of  sculpture  most  generally  used  was  a  death's  head."  At 
Mayapan  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  133),  "representations  of  human  figures,  or  animals  with 
hideous  features  and  expressions,  in  producing  which  the  skill  of  the  artist  seems 
to  have  been  expended"  ;  and  again,  p.  412,  "  unnatural  and  grotesque  faces." 


270  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

inductive.  A  complete  illustration  of  this  would  carry  me  be- 
yond the  plan  of  this  Introduction,  and  would  perhaps  exceed 
the  resources  of  my  own  knowledge ;  and  I  must  now  leave  to 
the  candor  of  the  reader  what  I  am  conscious  is  but  an  imperfect 
sketch,  but  what  may,  nevertheless,  suggest  to  him  materials  for 
future  thought,  and,  if  I  might  indulge  the  hope,  may  open  to 
historians  a  new  field,  by  reminding  them  that  everywhere  the 
hand  of  nature  is  upon  us,  and  that  the  history  of  the  human 
mind  can  only  be  understood  by  connecting  with  it  the  history 
and  the  aspects  of  the  material  universe. 

[This  remarkable  chapter  from  Buckle  is  presented,  as  nearly  as  possible, 
as  it  was  originally  published.  It  is  by  far  the  strongest  presentation  ever 
made  of  the  materialistic  conception  of  history.  The  difference  between 
Buckle's  method  and  that  of  Karl  Marx,  e.g.,  is  essentially  the  difference 
between  the  positive  and  the  metaphysical  methods  so  admirably  set  forth  by 
Auguste  Comte  (see  pages  15  to  64  of  this  book).  Buckle's  vast  learning 
and  irresistible  logic  make  this  work,  and  especially  this  chapter,  a  monu- 
ment to  his  genius  which  time  is  not  likely  to  mar.  Certainly,  in  this  age, 
ignorance  of  Buckle  argues  an  incomplete  education  as  truly  as  does  an 
ignorance  of  Adam  Smith  or  of  Darwin.  —  Eo.1 


XI 
THE  ZONE  OF  THE  FOUNDERS  OF  RELIGION1 

It  would  appear  from  this  that  there  is  no  apparent  connec- 
tion between  the  greater  precariousness  of  life  at  any  given  place 
of  abode,  or  between  the  national  food,  and  the  local  religious 
creations.  But  we  may,  perhaps,  find  something  serviceable 
where  we  should  least  expect  it,  among  the  old  Arabian  geogra- 
phers. Although  they  were  disciples  of  the  Alexandrian  Greeks, 
and  familiar  with  the  Ptolemaic  division  into  degrees,  in  their 
popular  expositions  of  their  science  they  nevertheless  distributed 
the  earth  into  climates,  or,  as  we  are  wont  to  express  it,  into 
climatic  zones.  These  zones  were  not  always  of  the  same  breadth, 
but  were  about  seven  degrees,  more  or  less.  Each  zone  was  sup- 
posed to  possess  certain  products,  animal,  vegetable,  and  mineral, 
in  special  perfection  ;  even  towards  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages 
our  schoolmen  believed  that  black  men  were  to  be  found  only  on 
or  close  to  the  equator,  and  that  gold  and  precious  stones  never 
occur  beyond  the  limits  of  the  second  zone.  In  the  language  of 
this  systematic  error,  Shemseddin,  who  was  named  Demeshqi, 
after  his  native  city  of  Damascus,  stated  that  people  of  light 
color  and  high  intellectual  endowments  are  limited  to  the  third 
and  fourth  climates,  or  between  19°  and  33°  49'  north  latitude, 
and  that  in  these  zones  were  born  all  the  great  founders  of 
religion,  philosophers,  and  scholars,  himself  included.  This  zone 
begins  a  little  to  the  south  of  the  parallel  of  Mecca  (21°  21'),  a 
great  deal  to  the  south  of  the  parallel  of  Kapilavastu  (27°),  the 
birthplace  of  the  Buddha  Gautama  ;  on  the  other  hand,  its  north- 
ern margin  does  not  include  Rai  (Rhagae)  near  Teheran,  and  still 
less  Balkh  (Bactra).  As  we  have  already  mentioned,  it  was  in  one 

1  From  The  Races  of  Man,  from  the  German  of  Oscar  Peschel,  pp.  314-318, 
New  York,  1894.  By  permission  of  D.  Appleton  &  Co. 

271 


272  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  these  towns  that  Zoroaster  was  born.  Yet  there  is  some  truth 
in  the  observation  of  the  Arabian  geographers,  that  the  founders 
of  the  higher  and  still  existing  religions,  Zoroaster,  Moses,  Buddha, 
Christ,  and  Mohammed,  belong  to  the  subtropical  zone.  For  the 
birthplace  of  the  latest  of  the  prophets  alone  falls  within  the 
tropics,  though  only  by  about  seventy-four  miles.  We  make 
no  mention  of  Confucius,  not  on  account  of  the  high  latitude 
of  his  birthplace  in  the  district  of  Yen-chau,  in  the  province  of 
Shan-tung,  but  because  we  should  degrade  the  other  founders 
of  religion  were  we  to  reckon  the  Chinese  moralists  among  their 
number. 

The  fact  that  the  zone  of  religious  founders  doqs  not  lie  within 
temperate  latitudes  might  be  explained  by  the  supposition  that 
it  was  only  in  the  presence  of  advanced  intellectual  development 
that  mankind  was  able  to  add  a  yet  higher  dignity  to  human 
existence  by  allegiance  to  ideal  objects,  and  that  it  was  exactly 
in  the  subtropical  climates  that  the  most  ancient  social  organiza- 
tions had  flourished.  But  even  when  civilization  in  its  advance 
had  passed  outside  the  tropics,  subtropical  Asia  still  remained  the 
fruitful  parent  of  religions.  Christianity  did  not  make  its  appear- 
ance in  the  overrefined  European  empire  of  the  Romans,  but  in 
Palestine.  Islam  came  into  existence  six  hundred  years  later, 
not  in  Byzantium,  but  in  Arabia.  In  the  cold  of  the  temperate 
zone  man  has  always  been  obliged  to  struggle  hard  for  his 
existence,  working  more  than  praying,  so  that  the  burden  of  the 
.day's  labor  constantly  withheld  him  from  deep  inward  meditation. 
In  warm  countries,  on  the  contrary,  where  nature  facilitates  the 
acquisition  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  the  sultry  hours  of  mid- 
day prohibit  any  bodily  exertions,  opportunities  for  mental  absorp- 
tion are  far  more  abundant. 

The  place  of  abode  is  not,  however,  quite  without  influence 
on  the  direction  taken  by  religious  thought.  The  three  mono- 
theistic doctrines,  Judaism,  Christianity,  Islam,  originated  with  the 
Semitic  nations,  yet  the  tendency  of  the  race  was  not  exclu- 
sively to  monotheism  ;  for  other  Semites,  such  as  the  Phoenicians, 
Chaldeans,  and  Assyrians,  took  other  courses,  while  even  among 
the  Jews  reversions  to  polytheism  were  frequent,  and  in  Egypt 


THE  ZONE  OF  THE  FOUNDERS  OF  RELIGION     273 

especially  the  people  of  God  sank  completely  into  idolatry.  The 
perpetual  reappearance  of  monotheism  received  powerful  support 
from  the  surrounding  scenes  of  nature. 

All  who  have  been  in  the  desert  extol  its  beneficent  influence 
on  the  health  and  spirits.  Aloys  Sprenger  declares  that  the  air 
of  the  desert  invigorated  him  more  than  that  of  the  high  Alps  or 
of  the  Himalayas,  and  in  a  letter  to  the  author  he  says:  "The 
desert  has  impressed  the  Arabs  with  their  remarkable  historical 
character.  In  the  boundless  plains  the  imagination  which  guides 
the  youth  of  men  is  filled  with  images  quite- different  from  those 
suggested  by  forest  country.  The  thoughts  thus  acquired  are 
rather  noble  than  numerous ;  out  of  his  own  consciousness  of 
power  man  evolves  for  himself  a  yet  bolder  personality  —  a  per- 
sonal God  by  whom  he  is  guided  in  his  wanderings."  Lastly,  in 
nomadic  life,  it  frequently  happens  that  a  herdsman  roams  about 
in  solitude  for  weeks,  tortured  by  hunger  and  thirst.  Even  the 
healthiest  then  suffers  from  illusions  of  the  senses.  In  this  state  it 
often  occurs  that  the  forsaken  wanderer  hears  voices  speaking  and 
calling  to  him  ;  hence  in  Arabic  there  is  a  special  word  Hdtifior 
voices  of  this  sort.  In  Africa,  again,  Ragl,  derived  from  Ragol, 
the  man,  signifies  such  anthropomorphous  ocular  illusions. 

Every  traveler  who  has  crossed  the  deserts  of  Arabia  and 
Asia  Minor  speaks  enthusiastically  of  their  beauties  ;  all  praise 
their  atmosphere  and  brightness,  and  tell  of  a  feeling  of  invigor- 
ation  and  a  perceptible  increase  of  intellectual  elasticity ;  hence 
between  the  arched  heavens  and  the  unbounded  expanse  of  plain 
a  monotheistic  frame  of  mind  necessarily  steals  upon  the  children 
of  the  desert.  The  confusion  of  the  Egyptian  pantheon,  the 
beautiful  images  of  stone,  the  sacred  animals,  the  human  figures 
with  emblematic  heads  and  symbols,  were  not  forgotten  by  Moses, 
the  priest  of  Heliopolis,  until  he  fled  to  Sinai,  the  oldest  rock 
known  to  geology,  which,  according  to  Oscar  Fraas,  is  still 
uncovered  by  the  smallest  particle  of  any  more  recent  formation, 
seeming  as  if  it  had  never  been  submerged  beneath  the  sea,  had 
never  risen  up,  never  moved.  Here  in  the  wilderness  it  was 
necessary  that  the  old  Jewish  race,  with  its  Egyptian  paganism, 
should  be  buried,  before  monotheism  as  a  result  of  the  thoughts 


274  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  sights  of  the  desert,  could  rise  and  strengthen  itself  in  a 
new  race.  In  other  parts  of  the  Scriptures  the  healthy  influence 
of  the  desert  is  likewise  testified.  The  zealous  Elijah  retired  into 
the  desert ;  John  the  Baptist  also  preached  in  the  desert  of  Jor- 
dan, clad  as  a  Bedouin,  in  a  raiment  of  camel's  hair,  and  living 
on  locusts  and  wild  honey.  Christ  also  prepared  himself  for  his 
career  by  passing  forty  days  and  forty  nights  in  the  desert. 
Lastly,  Mohammed,  although  born  in  a  city,  imbibed  the  milk  of 
a  Bedouin  foster  mother,  lived  for  a  long  time  as  a  shepherd,  and 
in  his  caravan  journeys  crossed  the  deserts  between  his  own 
country  and  Palestine.  The  pilgrimages  to  Mecca,  although  far 
more  ancient  than  Islam,  are  of  no  little  service  in  strengthen- 
ing the  faith,  inasmuch  as  they  are  preceded  by  a  journey  across 
the  desert.  But  even  independently  of  this,  the  followers  of  the 
Prophet  live  in  the  vicinity  of  deserts,  for  the  doctrine  of  Moham- 
med has  spread  almost  exclusively  in  the  zone  of  eastern  monsoons, 
and  only  in  very  late  times  extended  into  Africa  as  far  as  the 
Sudan.  In  India  it  was  unable  to  extend  beyond  very  narrow 
limits,  and  that  only  with  political  assistance. 

This  is  probably  all  that  can  be  accurately  ascertained  in  regard 
to  the  influence  of  the  nature  of  the  country  on  the  tendency  of 
the  religious  feeling  of  the  population.  The  desert  contributes  ) 
materially  to  awakening  monotheism,  because,  from  the  dryness 
and  clearness  of  its  atmosphere,  it  does  not  expose  the  senses  to 
all  the  attractive  phantoms  of  forest  scenery,  —  the  sunbeams  as 
they  play  through  the  openings  in  the  trees  on  the  trembling 
and  shining  leaves,  the  marvelous  forms  of  the  gnarled  branches, 
creeping  roots,  and  storm-stricken  trunks ;  the  creaking  and 
sighing,  the  whispering  and  roaring,  the  hissing  and  rustling, 
and  all  the  voices  and  sounds  in  wood  and  forest,  amid  which 
the  illusion  of  an  invisible  animation  is  so  apt  to  overcome  us. 
Neither  do  curling  mists  sweep  and  steal,  over  the  desert  as  on 
damp  meadow  lands.  These  cloud  forms,  as  they  rise  over  the 
forests  of  New  Guinea,  are  venerated  by  the  nations  of  Doreh 
as  a  visible  manifestation  of  their  good  spirit  Narvoje".  It  may 
f  therefore  be  asserted  that  with  the  extermination  of  the  forests 
\jiot  only  is  the  climate  of  the  locality  altered,  but  poetry  and 


THE  ZONE  OF  THE  FOUNDERS  OF  RELIGION     275 

paganism  have  also  been  struck  with  the  ax.    But  if  a  sunny  land 
is  favorable  to  monotheistic  emotions,  yet  at  the  same  time  every 
religious  creation  is  but  an  expression  of  the  mental  endowments ) 
of  the  race.    The  Semites  never  possessed  any  genuinely  epic 
literature,  and  their  dramatic   literature  was  extremely  scanty, 
for  they  were  destitute  of  the  Aryan  capacity  for  framing  such 
productions.    It  would  be  an  error  to  trace  all  the  intellectual  \ 
productions    of    nations   to  previous   physical  conditions  alone. J 
They  are  assuredly  subject  to  a  normal  course  of  development, 
and  are  nothing  more  than  the  necessary  expression  of  a  series 
of  causes.    But  the  historical  destinies  of  the  nations  are  certainly 
among  these  causes.    "  It   is  an   old  maxim,"   says   Delbruck, 
"that  it  is  in  the  experiences  of  life  that  each  individual  finds 
or  loses  his  God." 


XII 

SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN1 
PRINCIPLES  OF  SEXUAL  SELECTION 

With  animals  which  have  their  sexes  separated,  the  males 
necessarily  differ  from  the  females  in  their  organs  of  reproduc- 
tion ;  and  these  are  the  primary  sexual  characters.  But  the  sexes 
often  differ  in  what  Hunter  has  called  secondary  sexual  charac- 
ters, which  are  not  directly  connected  with  the  act  of  reproduction ; 
for  instance,  the  male  possesses  certain  organs  of  sense  or  loco- 
motion, of  which  the  female  is  quite  destitute,  or  has  them  more 
highly  developed,  in  order  that  he  may  readily  find  or  reach  her  ; 
or  again  the  male  has  special  organs  of  prehension  for  holding 
her  securely.  These  latter  .organs,  of  infinitely  diversified  kinds, 
graduate  into  those  which  are  commonly  ranked  as  primary,  and 
in  some  cases  can  hardly  be  distinguished  from  them;  we  see 
instances  of  this  in  the  complex  appendages  at  the  apex  of  the 
abdomen  in  male  insects.  Unless  indeed  we  confine  the  term 
"primary  "  to  the  reproductive  glands,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to 
decide  which  ought  to  be  called  primary  and  which  secondary. 

The  female  often  differs  from  the  male  in  having  organs  for 
the  nourishment  or  protection  of  her  young,  such  as  the  mam- 
mary glands  of  mammals  and  the  abdominal  sacks  of  the  mar- 
supials. In  some  few  cases  also  the  male  possesses  similar  organs, 
which  are  wanting  in  the  female,  such  as  the  receptacles  for  the 
ova  in  certain  male  fishes,  and  those  temporarily  developed  in 
certain  male  frogs.  The  females  of  most  bees  are  provided  with 
a  special  apparatus  for  collecting  and  carrying  pollen,  and  their 
ovipositor  is  modified  into  a  sting  for  the  defense  of  the  larvae  and 
the  community.  Many  similar  cases  could  be  given,  but  they  do 
not  here  concern  us.  There  are,  however,  other  sexual  differences 

1  From  The  Descent  of  Man,  by  Charles  Darwin,  second  edition,  London,  1874. 

276 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       277 

quite  unconnected  with  the  primary  reproductive  organs,  and  it  is 
with  these  that  we  are  more  especially  concerned,  —  such  as  the 
greater  size,  strength,  and  pugnacity  of  the  male,  his  weapons  of 
offense  or  means  of  defense  against  rivals,  his  gaudy  coloring  and 
various  ornaments,  his  power  of  song,  and  other  such,  characters. 
Besides  the  primary  and  secondary  sexual  differences,  such  as 
the  foregoing,  the  males  and  females  of  some  animals  differ  in 
structures  related  to  different  habits  of  life,  and  not  at  all,  or 
only  indirectly,  to  the  reproductive  functions.  Thus  the  females 
of  certain  flies  (Culicidae  and  Tabanidae)  are  blood  suckers,  while 
the  males,  living  on  flowers,  have  mouths  destitute  of  mandibles.1 
The  males  of  certain  moths  and  of  some  crustaceans  (e.g.  Tanais) 
have  imperfect,  closed  mouths,  and  cannot  feed.  The  comple- 
mental  males  of  certain  Cirripedes  live  like  epiphytic  plants 
either  on  the  female  or  the  hermaphrodite  form,  and  are  destitute 
of  a  mouth  and  of  prehensile  limbs.  In  these  cases  it  is  the  male 
which  has  been  modified  and  has  lost  certain  important  organs, 
which  the  females  possess.  In  other  cases  it  is  the  female  which 
has  lost  such  parts ;  for  instance,  the  female  glowworm  is  desti- 
tute of  wings,  as  also  are  many  female  moths,  some  of  which 
never  leave  their  cocoons.  Many  female  parasitic  crustaceans 
have  lost  their  natatory  legs.  In  some  weevil  beetles  (Curculioni- 
dae)  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the  male  and  female  in 
the  length  of  the  rostrum  or  snout ; 2  but  the  meaning  of  this  and 
of  many  analogous  differences  is  not  at  all  understood.  Differ- 
ences of  structure  between  the  two  sexes  in  relation  to  different 
habits  of  life  are  generally  confined  to  the  lower  animals  ;  but 
with  some  few  birds  the  beak  of  the  male  differs  from  that  of  the 
female.  In  the  Huia  of  New  Zealand  the  difference  is  wonder- 
fully great,  and  we  hear  from  Dr.  Buller  3  that  the  male  uses  his 
strong  beak  in  chiseling  the  larvae  of  insects  out  of  decayed  wood, 
while  the  female  probes  the  softer  parts  with  her  far  longer, 
much  curved,  and  pliant  beak ;  and  thus  they  mutually  aid  each 


1  Westwood,  Modern  Classification  of  Insects,  Vol.  II,  1840,  p.  541.    For  the 
statement  about  Tanais,  mentioned  below,  I  am  indebted  to  Fritz  Miiller. 

2  Kirby  and  Spence,  Introduction  to  Entomology,  Vol.  Ill,  1826,  p.  309. 
8  Birds  of  New  Zealand,  1872,  p.  66. 


278  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

other.  In  most  cases,  differences  of  structure  between  the  sexes 
are  more  or  less  directly  connected  with  the  propagation  of  the 
species  ;  thus  a  female,  which  has  to  nourish  a  multitude  of  ova, 
requires  more  food  than  the  male,  and  consequently  requires 
special  means  for  procuring  it.  A  male  animal,  which  lives  for  a 
very  short  time,  might  lose  its  organs  for  procuring  food  through 
disuse,  without  detriment;  but  he  would  retain  his  locomotive 
organs  in  a  perfect  state,  so  that  he  might  reach  the  female.  The 
female,  on  the  other  hand,  might  safely  lose  her  organs  for  flying, 
swimming,  or  walking,  if  she  gradually  acquired  habits  which 
rendered  such  powers  useless. 

We  are,  however,  here  concerned  only  with  sexual  selection. 
This  depends  On  the  advantage  which  certain  individuals  have 
over  others  of  the  same  sex  and  species  solely  in  respect  of 
reproduction.  When,  as  in  the  cases  above  mentioned,  the  two 
sexes  differ  in  structure  in  relation  to  different  habits  of  life,  they 
have  no  doubt  been  modified  through  natural  selection,  and  by 
inheritance  limited  to  one  and  the  same  sex.  So  again  the  pri- 
mary sexual  organs,  and  those  for  nourishing  or  protecting  the 
young,  come  under  the  same  influence;  for  those  individuals 
which  generated  or  nourished  their  offspring  best  would  leave, 
caeteris paribus,  the  greatest  number  to  inherit  their  superiority; 
while  those  which  generated  or  nourished  their  offspring  badly 
would  leave  but  few  to  inherit  their  weaker  powers.  As  the  male 
has  to  find  the  female,  he  requires  organs  of  sense  and  locomotion, 
but  if  these  organs  are  necessary  for  the  other  purposes  of  life, 
as  is  generally  the  case,  they  will  have  been  developed  through 
natural  selection.  When  the  male  has  found  the  female  he 
sometimes  absolutely  requires  prehensile  organs  to  hold  her ; 
thus  Dr.  Wallace  informs  me  that  the  males  of  certain  moths 
cannot  unite  with  the  females  if  their  tarsi  or  feet  are  broken. 
The  males  of  many  oceanic  crustaceans,  when  adult,  have  their 
legs  and  antennae  modified  in  an  extraordinary  manner  for  the 
prehension  of  the  female ;  hence  we  may  suspect  that  it  is 
because  these  animals  are  washed  about  by  the  waves  of  the 
open  sea  that  they  require  these  organs  in  order  to  propagate 
their  kind,  and  if  so,  their  development  has  been  the  result  of 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       279 

ordinary  or  natural  selection.  Some  animals  extremely  low  in 
the  scale  have  been  modified  for  this  same  purpose;  thus  the 
males  of  certain  parasitic  worms,  when  fully  grown,  have  the 
lower  surface  of  the  terminal  part  of  their  bodies  roughened 
like  a  rasp,  and  with  this  they  coil  round  and  permanently  hold 
the  females.1 

When  the  two  sexes  follow  exactly  the  same  habits  of  life, 
and  the  male  has  the  sensory  or  locomotive  organs  more  highly 
developed  than  those  of  the  female,  it  may  be  that  the  perfection 
of  these  is  indispensable  to  the  male  for  finding  the  female ;  but 
in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  they  serve  only  to  give  one  male  an 
advantage  over  another,  for  with  sufficient  time  the  less  well- 
endowed  males  would  succeed  in  pairing  with  the  females ; 
and  judging  from  the  structure  of  the  female,  they  would  be  in 
all  other  respects  equally  well  adapted  for  their  ordinary  habits 
of  life.  Since  in  such  cases  the  males  have  acquired  their  present 
structure,  not  from  being  better  fitted  to  survive  in  the  struggle 
for  existence,  but  from  having  gained  an  advantage  over  other 
males,  and  from  having  transmitted  this  advantage  to  their  male 
offspring  alone,  sexual  selection  must  here  have  come  into  action. 
It  was  the  importance  of  this  distinction  which  led  me  to  desig- 
nate this  form  of  selection  as  Sexual  Selection.  So  again,  if  the 
chief  service  rendered  to  the  male  by  his  prehensile  organs  is  to 
prevent  the  escape  of  the  female  before  the  arrival  of  other  males, 
or  when  assaulted  by  them,  these  organs  will  have  been  perfected 
through  sexual  selection,  that  is,  by  the  advantage  acquired  by 
certain  individuals  over  their  rivals.  But  in  most  cases  of  this 
kind  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  between  the  effects  of  natural 
and  sexual  selection.  Whole  chapters  could  be  filled  with  details 

1  M.  Perrier  advances  this  case  (Revue  Scientifique,  February  i,  1873,  P-  $65)  as 
one  fatal  to  the  belief  in  sexual  selection,  inasmuch  as  he  supposes  that  I  attrib- 
ute all  the  differences  between  the  sexes  to  sexual  selection.  This  distinguished 
naturalist,  therefore,  like  so  many  other  Frenchmen,  has  not  taken  the  trouble  to 
understand  even  the  first  principles  of  sexual  selection.  An  English  naturalist 
insists  that  the  claspers  of  certain  male  animals  could  not  have  been  developed 
through  the  choice  of  the  female !  Had  I  not  met  with  this  remark,  I  should  not 
have  thought  it  possible  for  any  one  to  have  read  this  chapter  and  to  have 
imagined  that  I  maintain  that  the  choice  of  the  female  had  anything  to  do  with  the 
development  of  the  prehensile  organs  in  the  male. 


280  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

on  the  differences  between  the  sexes  in  their  sensory,  locomotive, 
and  prehensile  organs.  As,  however,  these  structures  are  not 
more  interesting  than  others  adapted  for  the  ordinary  purposes 
of  life,  I  shall  pass  them  over  almost  entirely,  giving  only  a  few 
instances  under  each  class. 

There  are  many  other  structures  and  instincts  which  must 
have  been  developed  through  sexual  selection,  such  as  the 
weapons  of  offense  and  the  means  of  defense  of  the  males  for 
fighting  with  and  driving  away  their  rivals,  their  courage  and 
pugnacity,  their  various  ornaments,  their  contrivances  for  pro- 
ducing vocal  or  instrumental  music,  and  their  glands  for  emit- 
ting odors,  most  of  these  latter  structures  serving  only  to 
allure  or  excite  the  female.  It  is  clear  that  these  characters  are 
the  result  of  sexual  and  not  of  ordinary  selection,  since  unarmed, 
unornamented,  or  unattractive  males  would  succeed  equally  well 
in  the  battle  for  life  and  in  leaving  a  numerous  progeny,  but  for 
the  presence  of  better  endowed  males.  We  may  infer  that  this 
would  be  the  case,  because  the  females,  which  are  unarmed  and 
unornamented,  are  able  to  survive  and  procreate  their  kind. 
Secondary  sexual  characters  of  the  kind  just  referred  to  will  be 
fully  discussed  in  the  following  chapters,  as  being  in  many 
respects  interesting,  but  especially  as  depending  on  the  will, 
choice,  and  rivalry  of  the  individuals  of  either  sex.  When  we 
behold  two  males  fighting  for  the  possession  of  the  female,  or 
several  male  birds  displaying  their  gorgeous  plumage,  and  per- 
forming strange  antics  before  an  assembled  body  of  females,  we 
cannot  doubt  that,  though  led  by  instinct,  they  know  what  they 
are  about,  and  consciously  exert  their  mental  and  bodily  powers. 

Just  as  man  can  improve  the  breed  of  his  gamecocks  by  the 
selection  of  those  birds  which  are  victorious  in  the  cockpit,  so  it 
appears  that  the  strongest  and  most  vigorous  males,  or  those 
provided  with  the  best  weapons,  have  prevailed  under  nature, 
and  have  led  to  the  improvement  of  the  natural  breed  or  species. 
A  slight  degree  of  variability  leading  to  some  advantage,  however 
slight,  in  reiterated  deadly  contests  would  suffice  for  the  work  of 
sexual  selection ;  and  it  is  certain  that  secondary  sexual  characters 
are  eminently  variable.  Just  as  man  can  give  beauty,  according 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       281 

to  his  standard  of  taste,  to  his  male  poultry,  or,  more  strictly,  can 
modify  the  beauty  originally  acquired  by  the  parent  species,  can 
give  to  the  Sebright  bantam  a  hew  and  elegant  plumage,  an  erect 
and  peculiar  carriage,  so  it  appears  that  female  birds  in  a  state 
of  nature  have  by  a  long  selection  of  the  more  attractive  males 
added  to  their  beauty  or  other  attractive  qualities.  No  doubt 
this  implies  powers  of  discrimination  and  taste  on  the  part  of  the 
female  which  will  at  first  appear  extremely  improbable;  but  by 
the  facts  to  be  adduced  hereafter,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  show  that 
the  females  actually  have  these  powers.  When,  however,  it  is 
said  that  the  lower  animals  have  a  sense  of  beauty,  it  must  not 
be  supposed  that  such  sense  is  comparable  with  that  of  a  culti- 
vated man,  with  his  multiform  and  complex  associated  ideas.  A 
more  just  comparison  would  be  between  the  taste  for  the  beauti- 
ful in  animals  and  that  in  the  lowest  savages,  who  admire  and 
deck  themselves  with  any  brilliant,  glittering,  or  curious  object. 

From  our  ignorance  on  several  points  the  precise  manner  in 
which  sexual  selection  acts  is  somewhat  uncertain.  Neverthe- 
less, if  those  naturalists  who  already  believe  in  the  mutability  of 
species  will  read  the  following  chapters,  they  will,  I  think,  agree 
with  me  that  sexual  selection  has  played  an  important  part  in 
the  history  of  the  organic  world.  It  is  certain  that  among  almost 
all  animals  there  is  a  struggle  between  the  males  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  female.  This  fact  is  so  notorious  that  it  would  be 
superfluous  to  give  instances.  Hence  the  females  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  selecting  one  out  of  several  males,  on  the  supposition 
that  their  mental  capacity  suffices  for  the  exertion  of  a  choice. 
In  many  cases  special  circumstances  tend  to  make  the  struggle 
between  the  males  particularly  severe.  Thus  the  males  of  our 
migratory  birds  generally  arrive  at  their  places  of  breeding  before 
the  females,  so  that  many  males  are  ready  to  contend  for  each 
female.  I  am  informed  by  Mr.  Jenner  Weir  that  the  bird-catchers 
assert  that  this  is  invariably  the  case  with  the  nightingale  and 
blackcap,  and  with  respect  to  the  latter  he  can  himself  confirm 
the  statement. 

Mr.  Swaysland  of  Brighton  has  been  in  the  habit,  during  the 
last  forty  years,  of  catching  our  migratory  birds  on  their  first 


282  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

arrival,  and  he  has  never  known  the  females  of  any  species  to 
arrive  before  their  males.  During  one  spring  he'shot  thirty-nine 
males  of  Ray's  wagtail  (Budyte s  Rait}  before  he  saw  a  single 
female.  Mr.  Gould  has  ascertained  by  the  dissection  of  those 
snipes  which  arrive  the  first  in  this  country  that  the  males  come 
before  the  females.  And  the  like  holds  good  with  most  of  the 
migratory-birds  of  the  United  States.1  The  majority  of  the  male 
salmon  in  our  rivers,  on  coming  up  from  the  sea,  are  ready  to 
breed  before  the  females.  So  it  appears  to  be  with  frogs  and 
toads.  Throughout  the  great  class  of  insects  the  males  almost 
always  are  the  first  to  emerge  from  the  pupal  state,  so  that  they 
generally  abound  for  a  time  before  any  females  can  be  seen.2 
The  cause  of  this  difference  between  the  males  and  females 
in  their  periods  of  arrival  and  maturity  is  sufficiently  obvious. 
Those  males  which  annually  first  migrated  into  any  country,  or 
which  in  the  spring  were  first  ready  to  breed,  or  were  the  most 
eager,  would  leave  the  largest  number  of  offspring;  and  these 
would  tend  to  inherit  similar  instincts  and  constitutions.  It 
must  be  borne  in  mind  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
change  very  materially  the  time  of  sexual  maturity  in  the  females 
without  at  the  same  time  interfering  with  the  period  of  the  pro- 
duction of  the  young, — a  period  which  must  be  determined  by 
the  seasons  of  the  year.  On  the  whole,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  with  almost  all  animals,  in  which  the  sexes  are  separate, 
there  is  a  constantly  recurrent  struggle  between  the  males  for 
the  possession  of  the  females. 

Our  difficulty  in  regard  to  sexual  selection  lies  in  understand- 
ing how  it  is  that  the  males  which  conquer  other  males,  or  those 
which  prove  the  most  attractive  to  the  females,  leave  a  greater 
number  of  offspring  to  inherit  their  superiority  than  their  beaten 

1  J.  A.  Allen,  on  the  "  Mammals  and  Winter  Birds  of  E.  Florida,"  Bull.  Comp. 
Zoology  (Harvard  College),  p.  268. 

2  Even  with  those  plants  in  which  the  sexes  are  separate,  the  male  flowers  are 
generally  mature  before  the  female.    As  first  shown  by  C.  K.  Sprengel,  many 
hermaphrodite  plants  are  dichogamous  ;  that  is,  their  male  and  female  organs  are 
not  ready  at  the  same  time,  so  that  they  cannot  be  self-fertilized.    Now  in  such 
flowers  the  pollen  is  in  general  matured  before  the  stigma,  though  there  are 
exceptional  cases  in  which  the  female  organs  are  beforehand. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN       283 

and  less  attractive  rivals.  Unless  this  result  does  follow,  the 
characters  which  give  to  certain  males  an  advantage  over  others 
could  not  be  perfected  and  augmented  through  sexual  selection. 
When  the  sexes  exist  in  exactly  equal  numbers  the  worst- 
endowed  males  will  (except  where  polygamy  prevails)  ultimately 
find  females,  and  leave  as  many  offspring,  as  well  fitted  for  their 
general  habits  of  life,  as  the  best-endowed  males.  From  various 
facts  and  considerations  I  formerly  inferred  that  with  most  ani- 
mals in  which  secondary  sexual  characters  are  well  developed,  the 
males  considerably  exceeded  the  females  in  number ;  but  this  is 
not  by  any  means  always  true.  If  the  males  were  to  the  females 
as  two  to  one,  or  as  three  to  two,  or  even  in  a  somewhat  lower 
ratio,  the  whole  affair  would  be  simple  ;  for  the  better-armed  or 
more  attractive  males  would  leave  the  largest  number  of  off- 
spring. But  after  investigating  as  far  as  possible  the  numerical 
proportion  of  the  sexes,  I  do  not  believe  that  any  great  inequality 
in  number  commonly  exists.  In  most  cases  sexual  selection 
appears  to  have  been  effective  in  the  following  manner. 

Let  us  take  any  species,  a  bird  for  instance,  and  divide  the 
females  inhabiting  a  district  into  two  equal  bodies,  the  one  con- 
sisting of  the  more  vigorous  and  better-nourished  individuals,  and 
the  other  of  the  less  vigorous  and  healthy.  The  former,  there 
can  be  little  doubt,  would  be  ready  to  breed  in  the  spring  before 
the  others;  and  this  is  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Jenner  Weir,  who 
has  carefully  attended  to  the  habits  of  birds  during  many  years. 
There  can  also  be  no  doubt  that  the  most  vigorous,  best-nourished, 
and  earliest  breeders  would  on  an  average  succeed  in  rearing  the 
largest  number  of  fine  offspring.1  The  males,  as  we  have  seen, 
are  generally  ready  to  breed  before  the  females  ;  the  strongest, 
and  with  some  some  species  the  best  armed  of  the  males,  drive 
away  the  weaker ;  and  the  former  would  then  unite  with  the 

1  Here  is  excellent  evidence  on  the  character  of  the  offspring  from  an  experi- 
enced ornithologist.  Mr.  J.  A.  Allen,  in  speaking  ("  Mammals  and  Winter  Birds 
of  E.  Florida,"  p.  229)  of  the  later  broods,  after  the  accidental  destruction  of  the 
first,  says,  that  these  "  are  found  to  be  smaller  and  paler-colored  than  those 
hatched  earlier  in  the  season.  In  cases  where  several  broods  are  reared  each 
year,  as  a  general  rule  the  birds  of  the  earlier  broods  seem  in  all  respects  the 
most  perfect  and  vigorous." 


284  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

more  vigorous  and  better-nourished  females,  because  they  are  the 
first  to  breed.1  Such  vigorous  pairs  would  surely  rear  a  larger 
number  of  offspring  than  the  retarded  females,  which  would  be 
compelled  to  unite  with  the  conquered  and  less  powerful  males, 
supposing  the  sexes  to  be  numerically  equal ;  and  this  is  all  that 
is  wanted  to  add,  in  the  course  of  successive  generations,  to  the 
size,  strength,  and  courage  of  the  males,  or  to  improve  their 
weapons. 

But  in  very  many  cases  the  males  which  conquer  their  rivals 
do  not  obtain  possession  of  the  females,  independently  of  the 
choice  of  the  latter.  The  courtship  of  animals  is  by  no  means 
so  simple  and  short  an  affair  as  might  be  thought.  The  females 
are  most  excited  by,  or  prefer  pairing  with,  the  more  ornamented 
males,  or  those  which  are  the  best  songsters,  or  play  the  best 
antics ;  but  it  is  obviously  probable  that  they  would  at  the  same 
time  prefer  the  more  vigorous  and  lively  males,  and  this  has  in 
some  cases  been  confirmed  by  actual  observation.2  Thus  the 
more  vigorous  females,  which  are  the  first  to  breed,  will  have  the 
choice  of  many  males ;  and  though  they  may  not  always  select 
the  strongest  or  best  armed,  they  will  select  those  which  are 
vigorous  and  well  armed,  and  in  other  respects  the  most  attract- 
ive. Both  sexes,  therefore,  of  such  early  pairs  would,  as  above 
explained,  have  an  advantage  over  others  in  rearing  offspring ; 
and  this  apparently  has  sufficed  during  a  long  course  of  genera- 
tions to  add  not  only  to  the  strength  and  fighting  powers  of  the 
males,  but  likewise  to  their  various  ornaments  or  other  attractions. 

In  the  converse  and  much  rarer  case  of  the  males  selecting 
particular  females,  it  is  plain  that  those  which  were  the  most 
vigorous  and  had  conquered  others  would  have  the  freest  choice  ; 
and  it  is  almost  certain  that  they  would  select  vigorous  as  well 

1  Hermann  Miiller  has  come  to  this  same  conclusion  with  respect  to  those 
female  bees  which   are   the  first  to  emerge  from  the  pupa  each  year.    See  his 
remarkable  essay,  "Anwendung  der  Darwin'schen  Lehre  auf  Bienen,"  Verhand- 
lungen  des  naturhistorischen  Vereins,  Jahrgang  XXIX,  p.  45. 

2  With  respect  to  poultry,  I  have  received  information,  hereafter  to  be  given, 
to  this  effect.    Even  with  birds,  such  as  pigeons,  which  pair  for  life,  the  female, 
as  I  hear  from  Mr.  Jenner  Weir,  will  desert  her  mate  if  he  is  injured  or  grows 
weak. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN   RELATION  TO   MAN       285 

as  attractive  females.  Such  pairs  would  have  an  advantage  in 
rearing  offspring,  more  especially  if  the  male  had  the  power  to 
defend  the  female  during  the  pairing  season,  as  occurs  with  some 
of  the  higher  animals,  or  aided  her  in  providing  for  the  young. 
The  same  principles  would  apply  if  each  sex  preferred  and  selected 
certain  individuals  of  the  opposite  sex,  supposing  that  they 
selected  not  only  the  more  attractive  but  likewise  the  more 
vigorous  individuals. 

Numerical  Proportion  of  the  Two  Sexes 

I  have  remarked  that  sexual  selection  would  be  a  simple  affair 
if  the  males  were  considerably  more  numerous  than  the  females. 
Hence  I  was  led  to  investigate,  as  far  as  I  could,  the  proportions 
between  the  two  sexes  of  as  many  animals  as  possible  ;  but  the 
materials  are  scanty.  I  will  here  give  only  a  brief  abstract  of  the 
results,  retaining  the  details  for  a  supplementary  discussion,  so  as 
not  to  interfere  with  the  course  of  my  argument.  Domesticated 
animals  alone  afford  the  means  of  ascertaining  the  proportional 
numbers  at  birth  ;  but  no  records  have  been  specially  kept  for  this 
purpose.  By  indirect  means,  however,  I  have  collected  a  consid- 
erable body  of  statistics,  from  which  it  appears  that  with  most  of 
our  domestic  animals  the  sexes  are  nearly  equal  at  birth.  Thus 
25,560  births  of  race  horses  have  been  recorded  during  twenty- 
one  years,  and  the  male  births  were  to  the  female  births  as  99.7 
to  100.  In  greyhounds  the  inequality  is  greater  than  with  any 
other  animal,  for  out  of  6878  births  during  twelve  years,  the 
male  births  were  to  the  female  as  no.i  to  100.  It  is,  however, 
in  some  degree  doubtful  whether  it  is  safe  to  infer  that  the  pro- 
portion would  be  the  same  under  natural  conditions  as  under 
domestication  ;  for  slight  and  unknown  differences  in  the  con- 
ditions affect  the  proportion  of  the  sexes.  Thus  with  mankind, 
the  male  births  in  England  are  as  104.5,  m  Russia  as  108.9,  an<^ 
with  the  Jews  of  Livonia  as  120,  to  100  female  births.  At  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  however,  male  children  of  European  extrac- 
tion have  been  born  during  several  years  in  the  proportion  of 
between  90  and  99  to  100  female  children. 


286  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

For  our  present  purpose  we  are  concerned  with  the  proportion 
of  the  sexes  not  only  at  birth  but  also  at  maturity,  and  this  adds 
another  element  of  doubt ;  for  it  is  a  well-ascertained  fact  that 
with  man  the  number  of  males  dying  before  or  during  birth,  and 
during  the  first  few  years  of  infancy,  is  considerably  larger  than 
that  of  females.  So  it  almost  certainly  is  with  male  lambs  and 
probably  with  some  other  animals.  The  males  of  some  species 
kill  one  another  by  fighting,  or  they  drive  one  another  about  until 
they  become  greatly  emaciated.  They  must  also  be  often  exposed 
to  various  dangers,  while  wandering  about  in  eager  search  for  the 
females.  In  many  kinds  of  fish  the  males  are  much  smaller  than 
the  females,  and  they  are  believed  often  to  be  devoured  by  the 
latter,  or  by  other  fishes.  The  females  of  some  birds  appear  to 
die  earlier  than  the  males  ;  they  are  also  liable  to  be  destroyed  on 
their  nests,  or  while  in  charge  of  their  young.  With  insects  the 
female  larvae  are  often  larger  than  those  of  the  males,  and  would 
consequently  be  more  likely  to  be  devoured.  In  some  cases  the 
mature  females  are  less  active  and  less  rapid  in  their  movements 
than  the  males,  and  could  not  escape  so  well  from  danger. 
Hence,  with  animals  in  a  state  of  nature,  we  must  rely  on  mere 
estimation,  in  order  to  judge  of  the  proportions  of  the  sexes  at 
maturity ;  and  this  is  but  little  trustworthy,  except  when  the 
inequality  is  strongly  marked. 

The  proportion  between  the  sexes  fluctuates  slightly  during  suc- 
cessive years :  thus  with  race  horses,  for  every  i  oo  mares  born 
the  stallions  varied  from  107.1  in  one  year  to  92.6  in  another 
year,  and  with  greyhounds  from  116.3  to  95-3-  But  had  larger 
numbers  been  tabulated  throughout  an  area  more  extensive  than 
England,  these  fluctuations  would  probably  have  disappeared, 
and  such  as  they  are,  would  hardly  suffice  to  lead  to  effective 
sexual  selection  in  a  state  of  nature.  Nevertheless,  in  the  cases 
of  some  few  wild  animals,  the  proportions  seem  to  fluctuate  either 
during  different  seasons  or  in  different  localities  in  a  sufficient 
degree  to  lead  to  such  selection.  For  it  should  be  observed  that 
any  advantage,  gained  during  certain  years  or  in  certain  localities 
by  those  males  which  were  able  to  conquer  their  rivals,  or  were 
the  most  attractive  to  the  females,  would  probably  be  transmitted 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       287 

to  the  offspring,  and  would  not  subsequently  be  eliminated.  Dur- 
ing the  succeeding  seasons  when,  from  the  equality  of  the  sexes, 
every  male  was  able  to  procure  a  female,  the  stronger  or  more 
attractive  males  previously  produced  would  still  have  at  least  as 
good  a  chance  of  leaving  offspring  as  the  weaker  or  less  attractive. 

Polygamy 

The  practice  of  polygamy  leads  to  the  same  results  as  would 
follow  from  an  actual  inequality  in  the  number  of  the  sexes  ; 
for  if  each  male  secures  two  or  more  females,  many  males 
cannot  pair  ;  and  the  latter  assuredly  will  be  the  weaker  or 
less  attractive  individuals.  Many  mammals  and  some  few  birds 
are  polygamous,  but  with  animals  belonging  to  the  lower  classes 
I  have  found  no  evidence  of  this  habit.  The  intellectual  powers 
of  such  animals  are,  perhaps,  not  sufficient  to  lead  them  to  col- 
lect and  guard  a  harem  of  females.  That  some  relation  exists 
between  polygamy  and  the  development  of  secondary  sexual 
characters  appears  nearly  certain ;  and  this  supports  the  view 
that  a  numerical  preponderance  of  males  would  be  eminently 
favorable  to  the  action  of  sexual  selection.  Nevertheless,  many 
animals,  which  are  strictly  monogamous,  especially  birds,  dis- 
play strongly  marked  secondary  sexual  characters  ;  while  some 
few  animals,  which  are  polygamous,  do  not  have  such  characters. 

We  will  first  briefly  run  through  the  mammals,  and  then  turn 
to  birds.  The  gorilla  seems  to  be  polygamous,  and  the  male 
differs  considerably  from  the  female  ;  so  it  is  with  some  baboons, 
which  live  in  herds  containing  twice  as  many  adult  females  as 
males.  In  South  America  the  Mycetes  caraya  presents  well- 
marked  sexual  differences,  in  color,  beard,  and  vocal  organs  ;  and 
the  male  generally  lives  with  two  or  three  wives ;  the  male  of 
the  Cebus  capucinus  differs  somewhat  from  the  female,  and 
appears  to  be  polygamous.1  Little  is  known  on  this  head  with 
respect  to  most  other  monkeys,  but  some  species  are  strictly 

1  On  the  gorilla,  see  Savage  and  Wyman,  Boston  Journal  of  Natural  History r, 
1845-1847,  Vol.  V,  p.  423.  On  Cynocephalus,  see  Brehm,  Illust.  Thierleben,  1864, 
Band  I,  Seite  77.  On  Mycetes,  see  Rengger,  Naturgesch. :  "  Saugethiere  von  Para- 
guay," 1830,  Seite  14,  20.  On  Cebus,  see  Brehm,  ibid.,  Seite  108. 


288  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

monogamous.  The  ruminants  are  eminently  polygamous,  and 
they  present  sexual  differences  more  frequently  than  almost  any 
other  group  of  mammals ;  this  holds  good,  especially  in  their 
weapons,  but  also  in  other  characters.  Most  deer,  cattle,  and 
sheep  are  polygamous,  as  are  most  antelopes,  though  some  are 
monogamous.  Sir  Andrew  Smith,  in  speaking  of  the  antelopes 
of  South  Africa,  says  that  in  herds  of  about  a  dozen  there  was 
rarely  more  than  one  mature  male.  The  Asiatic  Antilope  saiga 
appears  to  be  the  most  inordinate  polygamist  in  the  world ;  for 
Pallas  1  states  that  the  male  drives  away  all  rivals  and  collects  a 
herd  of  about  a  hundred  females  and  kids  together ;  the  female 
is  hornless  and  has  softer  hair,  but  does  not  otherwise  differ 
much  from  the  male.  The  wild  horse  of  the  Falkland  Islands 
and  of  the  Western  States  of  North  America  is  polygamous,  but, 
except  in  his  greater  size  and  in  the  proportions  of  his  body, 
differs  but  little  from  the  mare.  The  wild  boar  presents  well- 
marked  sexual  characters,  in  his  great  tusks  and  some  other 
points.  In  Europe  and  in  India  he  leads  a  solitary  life,  except 
during  the  breeding  season ;  but  as  is  believed  by  Sir  W.  Elliot, 
who  has  had  many  opportunities  in  India  of  observing  this  animal, 
he  consorts  at  this  season  with  several  females.  Whether  this 
holds  good  in  Europe  is  doubtful,  but  it  is  supported  by  some 
evidence.  The  adult  male  Indian  elephant,  like  the  boar,  passes 
much  of  his  time  in  solitude  ;  but  as  Dr.  Campbell  states,  when 
with  others,  "  it  is  rare  to  find  more  than  one  male  with  a  whole 
herd  of  females"  ;  the  larger  males  expelling  or  killing  the  smaller 
and  weaker  ones.  The  male  differs  from  the  female  in  his  im- 
mense tusks,  greater  size,  strength,  and  endurance;  so  great  is 
the  difference  in  these  respects  that  the  males  when  caught  are 
valued  at  one  fifth  more  than  the  females.2  The  sexes  of  other 
pachydermatous  animals  differ  very  little  or  not  at  all,  and,  as  far 
as  known,  they  are  not  polygamists.  Nor  have  I  heard  of  any 

1  Pallas,  Spicilegia  Zoolog.,  1777,  Fasc.  XII,  p.  29.  Sir  Andrew  Smith's 
Illustrations  of  the  Zoology  of  South  Africa,  1849,  Plate  XXIX,  on  the  Kobus. 
Owen,  in  his  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates  (1868,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  633),  gives  a  table  showing 
incidentally  which  species  of  antelopes  are  gregarious. 

a  Dr.  Campbell,  in  Proc.  Zoolog.  Soc.,  1869,  P-  '38-  See  also  an  interesting 
paper,  by  Lieutenant  Johnstone,  in  Proc.  Asiatic  Soc.  of  Bengal,  May,  1868- 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       289 

species  in  the  orders  of  Cheiroptera,  Edentata,  Insectivora,  and 
rodents  being  polygamous,  excepting  that  among  the  rodents, 
the  common  rat,  according  to  some  rat-catchers,  lives  with  several 
females.  Nevertheless,  the  two  sexes  of  some  sloths  (Edentata) 
differ  in  the  character  and  color  of  certain  patches  of  hair  on 
their  shoulders.1  And  many  kinds  of  bats  (Cheiroptera)  present 
well-marked  sexual  differences,  chiefly  in  the  males  possessing 
odoriferous  glands  and  pouches,  and  by  their  being  of  a  lighter 
color.2  In  the  great  order  of  Rodents,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  the 
sexes  rarely  differ,  and  when  they  do  so  it  is  but  slightly  in  the 
tint  of  the  fur. 

As  I  hear  from  Sir  Andrew  Smith,  the  lion  in  South  Africa 
sometimes  lives  with  a  single  female,  but  generally  with  more, 
and,  in  one  case,  was  found  with  as  many  as  five  females ;  so 
that  he  is  polygamous.  As  far  as  I  can  discover,  he  is  the  only 
polygamist  among  all  the  terrestrial  Carnivora,  and  he  alone  pre- 
sents well-marked  sexual  characters.  If,  however,  we  turn  to  the 
marine  Carnivora,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  the  case  is  widely 
different ;  for  many  species  of  seals  offer  extraordinary  sexual 
differences,  and  they  are  eminently  polygamous.  Thus,  according 
to  Peron,  the  male  sea  elephant  of  the  Southern  Ocean  always 
possesses  several  females,  and  the  sea  lion  of  Forster  is  said  to 
be  surrounded  by  from  twenty  to  thirty  females.  In  the  North 
the  male  sea  bear  of  Steller  is  accompanied  by  even  a  greater 
number  of  females.  It  is  an  interesting  fact,  as  Dr.  Gill  remarks,3 
that  in  the  monogamous  species,  "  or  those  living  in  small  com- 
munities, there  is  little  difference  in  size  between  the  males  and 
females ;  in  the  social  species,  or  rather  those  of  which  the  males 
have  harems,  the  males  are  vastly  larger  than  the  females." 

Among  birds,  many  species,  the  sexes  of  which  differ  greatly 
from  each  other,  are  certainly  monogamous.  In  Great  Britain 
we  see  well-marked  sexual  differences,  for  instance,  in  the  wild 
duck,  which  pairs  with  a  single  female,  the  common  blackbird, 
and  the  bullfinch,  which  is  said  to  pair  for  life.  I  am  informed  by 

1  Dr.  Gray,  in  Annals  and  Magazine  of  Natural  History,  1871,  p.  302. 

2  See  Dr.  Dobson's  excellent  paper,  in  Proc.  Zoolog.  Soc.  1873,  P-  24T> 
8  "  The  Eared  Seals,"  American  Naturalist,  January,  1871,  Vol.  IV. 


290  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Mr.  Wallace  that  the  like  is  true  of  the  Chatterers  or  Cotingidae 
of  South  America,  and  of  many  other  birds.  In  several  groups  I 
have  not  been  able  to  discover  whether  the  species  are  polyga- 
mous or  monogamous.  Lesson  says  that  birds  of  paradise,  so 
remarkable  for  their  sexual  differences,  are  polygamous,  but  Mr. 
Wallace  doubts  whether  he  had  sufficient  evidence.  Mr.  Salvin 
tells  me  he  has  been  led  to  believe  that  humming  birds  are  polyga- 
mous. The  male  widow  bird,  remarkable  for  his  caudal  plumes, 
certainly  seems  to  be  a  polygamist.1  I  have  been  assured  by  Mr. 
Jenner  Weir,  and  by  others,  that  it  is  somewhat  common  for  three 
starlings  to  frequent  the  same  nest ;  but  whether  this  is  a  case 
of  polygamy  or  polyandry  has  not  been  ascertained. 

The  Gallinaceae  exhibit  almost  as  strongly  marked  sexual  dif- 
ferences as  birds  of  paradise  or  humming  birds,  and  many  of  the 
species  are,  as  is  well  known,  polygamous,  others  being  strictly 
monogamous.  What  a  contrast  is  presented  between  the  sexes 
of  the  polygamous  peacock  or  pheasant  and  the  monogamous 
guinea  fowl  or  partridge  !  Many  similar  cases  could  be  given,  as 
in  the  grouse  tribe,  in  which  the  males  of  the  polygamous  caper- 
cailzie and  blackcock  differ  greatly  from  the  females;  while  the 
sexes  of  the  monogamous  red  grouse  and  ptarmigan  differ  very 
little.  In  the  Cursores,  except  among  the  bustards,  few  species  offer 
strongly  marked  sexual  differences,  and  the  great  bustard  (Otis 
tardd)  is  said  to  be  polygamous.  With  the  Grallatores  extremely 
few  species  differ  sexually,  but  the  ruff  (Machetes  pugnax]  affords 
a  marked  exception,  and  this  species  is  believed  by  Montagu  to 
be  a  polygamist.  Hence  it  appears  that  among  birds  there  often 
exists  a  close  relation  between  polygamy  and  the  development  of 
strongly  marked  sexual  differences.  I  asked  Mr.  Bartlett,  of  the 
Zoological  Gardens,  who  has  had  very  large  experience  with  birds, 
whether  the  male  tragopan  (one  of  the  Gallinaceae)  was  polyga- 
mous, and  I  was  struck  by  his  answering,  "  I  do  not  know,  but 
should  think  so  from  his  splendid  colors." 

1  The  Ibis,  1861,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  133,  on  the  progne  widow  bird.  See  also  on 
the  Vidua  axillaris,  ibid.,  1860,  Vol.  II,  p.  211.  On  the  polygamy  of  the  capercail- 
zie and  great  bustard,  see  L.  Lloyd's  Game  Birds  of  Sweden,  1867,  pp.  19,  182. 
Montagu  and  Selby  speak  of  the  black  grouse  as  polygamous  and  of  the  red 
grouse  as  monogamous. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN 


291 


It  deserves  notice  that  the  instinct  of  pairing  with  a  single 
female  is  easily  lost  under  domestication.  The  wild  duck  is 
strictly  monogamous,  the  domestic  duck  highly  polygamous. 
The  Rev:  W.  D.  Fox  informs  me  that  out  of  some  half -tamed 
wild  ducks,  on  a  large  pond  in  his  neighborhood,  so  many  mal- 
lards were  shot  by  the  gamekeeper  that  only  one  was  left  for 
every  seven  or  eight  females ;  yet  unusually  large  broods  were 
reared.  The  guinea  fowl  is  strictly  monogamous;  but  Mr.  Fox 
finds  that  his  birds  succeed  best  when  he  keeps  one  cock  to  two 
or  three  hens.  Canary  birds  pair  in  a  state  of  nature,  but  the 
breeders  in  England  successfully  put  one  male  to  four  or  five 
females.  I  have  noticed  these  cases,  as  rendering  it  probable 
that  wild  monogamous  species  might  readily  become  either  tem- 
porarily or  permanently  polygamous. 

Too  little  is  known  of  the  habits  of  reptiles  and  fishes  to  enable 
us  to  speak  of  their  marriage  arrangements.  The  stickleback 
(Gasterosteus),  however,  is  said  to  be  a  polygamist ; 1  and  the 
male  during  the  breeding  season  differs  conspicuously  from  the 
female. 

To  sum  up  on  the  means  through  which,  as  far  as  we  can 
judge,  sexual  selection  has  led  to  the  development  of  secondary 
sexual  characters  ;  it  has  been  shown  that  the  largest  number  of 
vigorous  offspring  will  be  reared  from  the  pairing  of  the  strongest 
and  best-armed  males,  victorious  in  contests  over  other  males, 
with  the  most  vigorous  and  best-nourished  females,  which  are 
the  first  to  breed  in  the  spring.  If  such  females  select  the  more 
attractive  and  at  the  same  time  vigorous  males,  they  will  rear  a 
larger  number  of  offspring  than  the  retarded  females,  which  must 
pair  with  the  less  vigorous  and  less  attractive  males.  So  it  will 
be  if  the  more  vigorous  males  select  the  more  attractive  and 
at  the  same  time  healthy  and  vigorous  females ;  and  this  will 
especially  hold  good  if  the  male  defends  the  female,  and  aids  in 
providing  food  for  the  young.  The  advantage  thus  gained  by 
the  more  vigorous  pairs  in  rearing  a  larger  number  of  offspring 
has  apparently  sufficed  to  render  sexual  selection  efficient.  But 
a  large  numerical  preponderance  of  males  over  females  will  be 

1  Noel  Humphreys,  River  Gardens,  1857. 


292  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

still  more  efficient,  whether  the  preponderance  is  only  occasional 
and  local,  or  permanent,  whether  it  occurs  at  birth,  or  afterward 
from  the  greater  destruction  of  the  females,  or  whether  it 
indirectly  follows  from  the  practice  of  polygamy. 

The  Male  Generally  More  Modified  than  the  Female 

Throughout  the  animal  kingdom,  when  the  sexes  differ  in  ex- 
ternal appearance,  it  is,  with  rare  exceptions,  the  male  which  has 
been  the  more  modified  ;  for  generally  the  female  retains  a  closer 
resemblance  to  the  young  of  her  own  species  and  to  other  adult 
members  of  the  same  group.  The  cause  of  this  seems  to  lie  in  the 
males  of  almost  all  animals  having  stronger  passions  than  the 
females.  Hence  it  is  the  males  that  fight  together  and  sedulously 
display  their  charms  before  the  females  ;  and  the  victors  transmit 
their  superiority  to  their  male  offspring.  Why  both  sexes  do  not 
thus  acquire  the  characters  of  their  fathers  will  be  considered 
hereafter.  That  the  males  of  all  mammals  eagerly  pursue  the 
females  is  notorious  to  every  one.  So  it  is  with  birds ;  but  many 
cock  birds  do  not  so  much  pursue  the  hen  as  display  their  plum- 
age, perform  strange  antics,  and  pour  forth  their  song  in  her 
presence.  The  male  in  the  few  fish  observed  seems  much  more 
eager  than  the  female  ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  alligators,  and 
apparently  of  Batrachians.  Throughout  the  enormous  class  of 
insects,  as  Kirby  remarks,1  "  the  law  is,  that  the  male  shall  seek 
the  female."  Two  good  authorities,  Mr.  Blackwall  and  Mr.  C. 
Spence  Bate,  tell  me  that  the  males  of  spiders  and  crustaceans 
are  more  active  and  more  erratic  in  their  habits  than  the  females. 
When  the  organs  of  sense  or  locomotion  are  present  in  the  one 
sex  of  insects  and  crustaceans  and  absent  in  the  other,  or  when, 
as  is  frequently  the  case,  they  are  more  highly  developed  in  the 
one  than  in  the  other,  it  is,  as  far  as  I  can  discover,  almost  invari- 
ably the  male  which  retains  such  organs,  or  has  them  most 
developed  ;  and  this  shows  that  the  male  is  the  more  active 
member  in  the  courtship  of  the  sexes.2 

1  Kirby  and  Spence,  Introduction  to  Entomology,  1826,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  342. 
a  One  parasitic  hymenopterous  insect  (Westwood,  Modern  Classification  of  In- 
sects, Vol.  1 1 ,  p.  1 60)  forms  an  exception  to  the  rule,  as  the  male  has  rudimentary  wings 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       293 

The  female,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  rarest  exceptions,  is 
less  eager  than  the  male.  As  the  illustrious  Hunter 1  long  ago 
observed,  she  generally  "requires  to  be  courted";  she  is  coy, 
and  may  often  be  seen  endeavoring  for  a  long  time  to  escape 
from  the  male.  Every  observer  of  the  habits  of  animals  will  be 
able  to  call  to  mind  instances  of  this  kind.  It  is  shown  by  vari- 
ous facts,  given  hereafter,  and  by  the  results  fairly  attributable 
to  sexual  selection,  that  the  female,  though  comparatively  passive, 
generally  exerts  some  choice  and  accepts  one  male  in  preference 
to  others  ;  or  she  may  accept,  as  appearances  would  sometimes 
lead  us  to  believe,  not  the  male  which  is  the  most  attractive  to 
her,  but  the  one  which  is  the  least  distasteful.  The  exertion  of 
^some  choice  on  the  part  of  the  female  seems  a  law  almost  as 
general  as  the  eagerness  of  the  male. 

We  are  naturally  led  to  inquire  why  the  male,  in  so  many  and 
such  distinct  classes,  has  become  more  eager  than  the  female,  so 
that  he  searches  for  her,  and  plays  the  more  active  part  in  court- 
ship. It  would  be  no  advantage  and  some  loss  of  power  if  each 
sex  searched  for  the  other ;  but  why  should  the  male  almost 
always  be  the  seeker  ?  The  ovules  of  plants  after  fertilization 
have  to  be  nourished  for  a  time  ;  hence  the  pollen  is  necessarily 
brought  to  the  female  organs,  being  placed  on  the  stigma  by 
means  of  insects  or  the  wind,  or  by  the  spontaneous  move- 
ments of  the  stamens  ;  and  in  the  Algae,  etc.,  by  the  locomotive 
power  of  the  antherozoids.  With  lowly  organized  aquatic  animals, 
permanently  affixed  to  the  same  spot  and  having  their  sexes 
separate,  the  male  element  is  invariably  brought  to  the  female ; 
and  of  this  we  can  see  the  reason,  for  even  if  the  ova  were 
detached  before  fertilization,  and  did  not  require  subsequent 
nourishment  or  protection,  there  would  yet  be  greater  difficulty 
in  transporting  them  than  the  male  element,  because,  being 

and  never  quits  the  cell  in  which  it  is  born,  while  the  female  has  well-developed 
wings.  Audouin  believes  that  the  females  of  this  species  are  impregnated  by  the 
males  which  are  born  in  the  same  cells  with  them ;  but  it  is  much  more  probable 
that  the  females  visit  other  cells,  so  that  close  interbreeding  is  thus  avoided.  We 
shall  hereafter  meet  in  various  classes,  with  a  few  exceptional  cases,  in  which  the 
female,  instead  of  the  male,  is  the  seeker  and  wooer. 

1  Essays  and  Observations,  edited  by  Owen,  1861,  Vol.  I,  p.  194. 


294  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

larger  than  the  latter,  they  are  produced  in  far  smaller  numbers. 
So  that  many  of  the  lower  animals  are,  in  this  respect,  analogous 
with  plants.1  The  males  of  affixed  and  aquatic  animals  having 
been  led  to  emit  their  fertilizing  element  in  this  way,  it  is  natural 
that  any  of  their  descendants,  which  rose  in  the  scale  and  became 
locomotive,  should  retain  the  same  habit,  and  they  would  approach 
the  female  as  closely  as  possible,  in  order  not  to  risk  the  loss  of 
the  fertilizing  element  in  a  long  passage  of  it  through  the  water. 
With  some  few  of  the  lower  animals,  the  females  alone  are  fixed, 
and  the  males  of  these  must  be  the  seekers.  But  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  why  the  males  of  species,  of  which  the  progenitors 
were  primordially  free,  should  invariably  have  acquired  the  habit  of 
approaching  the  females,  instead  of  being  approached  by  them. 
But  in  all  cases,  in  order  that  the  males  should  seek  efficiently, 
it  would  be  necessary  that  they  should  be  endowed  with  strong 
passions ;  and  the  acquirement  of  such  passions  would  naturally 
follow  from  the  more  eager  leaving  a  larger  number  of  offspring 
than  the  less  eager. 

The  great  eagerness  of  the  males  has  thus  indirectly  led  to 
their  much  more  frequently  developing  secondary  sexual  charac- 
ters than  the  females.  But  the  development  of  such  characters 
would  be  much  aided  if  the  males  were  more  liable  to  vary  than 
the  females,  as  I  concluded  they  were,  after  a  long  study  of 
domesticated  animals.  Von  Nathusius,  who  has  had  very  wide 
experience,  is  strongly  of  the  same  opinion.2  Good  evidence  also 
in  favor  of  this  conclusion  can  be  produced  by  a  comparison  of 
the  two  sexes  in  mankind.  During  the  Novara  Expedition  3  a  vast 
number  of  measurements  was  made  of  various  parts  of  the  body 
in  different  races,  and  the  men  were  found  in  almost  every  case 
to  present  a  greater  range  of  variation  than  the  women ;  but  I 

1  Professor  Sachs  (Lehrbuchder  Botanik,  1870,  Seite633),in  speaking  of  the  male 
and  female  reproductive  cells,  remarks,  "  verhalt  sich  die  eine  bei  der  Vereinigung 
activ,  .  .  .  die  andere  erscheint  bei  der  Vereinigung  passiv." 

2  Vortrage  iiber  Viehzucht,  1872,  p.  63. 

3  Reise  der  Novara:  "Anthropolog.  Theil,"  1867,  Seite  216-269.    The  results 
were  calculated  by  Dr.  Weisbach  from  measurements  made  by  Drs.  K.  Scherzer 
and  Schwarz.    On  the  greater  variability  of  the  males  of  domesticated  animals,  see 
my  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domestication,  1868,  Vol.  II,  p.  75. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       295 

shall  have  to  recur  to  this  subject  in  a  future  chapter.  Mr.  J. 
Wood,1  who  has  carefully  attended  to  the  variation  of  the  muscles 
in  man,  puts  in  italics  the  conclusion  that  "  the  greatest  number 
of  abnormalities  in  each  subject  is  found  in  the  males."  He  had 
previously  remarked  that  "altogether  in  102  subjects  the  varie- 
ties of  redundancy  were  found  to  be  half  as  many  again  as  in 
females,  contrasting  widely  with  the  greater  frequency  of  defi- 
ciency in  females  before  described."  Professor  Macalister  likewise 
remarks  2  that  variations  in  the  muscles  "  are  probably  more  com- 
mon in  males  than  females."  Certain  muscles  which  are  not 
normally  present  in  mankind  are  also  more  frequently  developed 
in  the  male  than  in  the  female  sex,  although  exceptions  to  this 
rule  are  said  to  occur.  Dr.  Burt  Wilder  3  has  tabulated  the  cases 
of  1 5  2  individuals  with  supernumerary  digits,  of  which  86  were 
males,  and  39,  or  less  than  half,  females,  the  remaining  27  being  of 
unknown  sex.  It  should  not,  however,  be  overlooked  that  women 
would  more  frequently  endeavor  to  conceal  a  deformity  of  this 
kind  than  men.  Again,  Dr.  L.  Meyer  asserts  that  the  ears  of 
man  are  more  variable  in  form  than  those  of  woman.4  Lastly,  the 
temperature  is  more  variable  in  man  than  in  woman.5 

The  cause  of  the  greater  general  variability  in  the  male  sex 
than  in  the  female  is  unknown,  except  in  so  far  as  secondary 
sexual  characters  are  extraordinarily  variable,  and  are  usually 
confined  to  the  males  ;  and,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  this  fact  is, 
to  a  certain  extent,  intelligible.  Through  the  action  of  sexual  and 
natural  selection  male  animals  have  been  rendered  in  very  many 
instances  widely  different  from  their  females ;  but  independently 
of  selection  the  two  sexes,  from  differing  constitutionally,  tend  to 
vary  in  a  somewhat  different  manner.  The  female  has  to  expend 
much  organic  matter  in  the  formation  of  her  ova,  whereas  the 
male  expends  much  force  in  fierce  contests  with  his  rivals,  in 

1  Proceedings  Royal  Society,  July,  1868,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  519,  524. 

2  Proceedings  Royal  Irish  Academy,  1868,  Vol.  X,  p.  123. 
8  Massachusetts  Medical  Society,  1868,  Vol.  II,  No.  3,  p.  9. 
4  Archiv  fiir  Path.,  Anat.  und  Phys.,  1871,  p.  488. 

6  The  conclusions  recently  arrived  at  by  Dr.  J.  Stockton  Hough,  on  the  tem- 
perature of  man,  are  given  in  the  Popular  Science  Review,  January  I,  1874, 
p.  97. 


296  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

wandering  about  in  search  of  the  female,  in  exerting  his  voice, 
pouring  out  odoriferous  secretions,  etc. ;  and  this  expenditure  is 
generally  concentrated  within  a  short  period.  The  great  vigor  of 
the  male  during  the  season  of  love  seems  often  to  intensify  his 
colors,  independently  of  any  marked  difference  from  the  female.1 
In  mankind,  and  even  as  low  down  in  the  organic  scale  as  in  the 
Lepidoptera,  the  temperature  of  the  body  is  higher  in  the  male 
than  in  the  female,  accompanied  in  the  case  of  man  by  a  slower 
pulse.2  On  the  whole,  the  expenditure  of  matter  and  force  by 
the  two  sexes  is  probably  nearly  equal,  though  effected  in  very 
different  ways  and  at  different  rates. 

From  the  causes  just  specified  the  two  sexes  can  hardly  fail 
to  differ  somewhat  in  constitution,  at  least  during  the  breeding 
season;  and  although  they  may  be  subjected  to  exactly  the  same 
conditions,  they  will  tend  to  vary  in  a  different  manner.  If  such 
variations  are  of  no  service  to  either  sex,  they  will  not  be  accu- 
mulated and  increased  by  sexual  or  natural  selection.  Neverthe- 
less, they  may  become  permanent  if  the  exciting  cause  acts 
permanently ;  and  in  accordance  with  a  frequent  form  of  inherit- 
ance they  may  be  transmitted  to  that  sex  alone  in  which  they  first 
appeared.  In  this  case  the  two  sexes  will  come  to  present  per- 
manent, yet  unimportant,  differences  of  character.  For  instance, 
Mr.  Allen  shows  that  with  a  large  number  of  birds  inhabiting  the 
northern  and  southern  United  States,  the  specimens  from  the  south 
are  darker  colored  than  those  from  the  north  ;  and  this  seems  to 
be  the  direct  result  of  the  difference  in  temperature,  light,  etc., 
between  the  two  regions.  Now,  in  some  few  cases,  the  two  sexes 
of  the  same  species  appear  to  have  been  differently  affected :  in 
the  Ageloeus  phaeniceus  the  males  have  had  their  colors  greatly 
intensified  in  the  south  ;  whereas  with  Cardinalis  virginianus  it 

1  Professor  Mantegazza  is  inclined  to  believe  ("  Lettera  a  Carlo  Darwin,"  Archi- 
vio  per  f ' Antropologia,  1871,  p.  306)  that  the  bright  colors,  common  in  so  many 
male  animals,  are  due  to  the  presence  and  retention  by  them  of  the  spermatic 
fluid;  but  this  can  hardly  be  the  case,  for  many  male  birds,  for  instance  young 
pheasants,  become  brightly  colored  in  the  autumn  of  their  first  year. 

2  For  mankind,  see  Dr.  J.  Stockton  Hough,  whose  conclusions  are  given  in  the 
Popular  Science  Review,  1874,  p.  97.    See  Girard's  observations  on  the  Lepidop- 
tera, as  given  in  the  Zoological  Record,  1869,  P-  347- 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       297 

is  the  females  which  have  been  thus  affected ;  with  Quiscalus 
major  the  females  have  been  rendered  extremely  variable  in  tint, 
while  the  males  remain  nearly  uniform.1 

A  few  exceptional  cases  occur  in  various  classes  of  animals,  in 
which  the  females  instead  of  the  males  have  acquired  well-pro- 
nounced secondary  sexual  characters,  such  as  brighter  colors, 
greater  size,  strength,  or  pugnacity.  With  birds  there  has  some- 
times been  a  complete  transposition  of  the  ordinary  characters 
proper  to  each  sex,  the  females  having  become  the  more  eager 
in  courtship,  the  males  remaining  comparatively  passive,  but 
apparently  selecting  the  more  attractive  females,  as  we  may  infer 
from  the  results.  Certain  hen  birds  have  thus  been  rendered 
more  highly  colored  or  otherwise  ornamented  as  well  as  more 
powerful  and  pugnacious  than  the  cocks,  these  characters  being 
transmitted  to  the  female  offspring  alone. 

It  may  be  suggested  that  in  some  cases  a  double  process  of 
selection  has  been  carried  -  on  :  that  the  males  have  selected  the 
more  attractive  females,  and  the  latter  the  more  attractive  males. 
This  process,  however,  though  it  might  lead  to  the  modification 
of  both  sexes,  would  not  make  the  one  sex  different  from  the 
other,  unless  indeed  their  tastes  for  the  beautiful  differed ;  but 
this  is  a  supposition  too  improbable  to  be  worth  considering  in 
the  case  of  any  animal,  excepting  man.  There  are,  however, 
many  animals  in  which  the  sexes  resemble  each  other,  both  being 
furnished  with  the  same  ornaments,  which  analogy  would  lead  us 
to  attribute  to  the  agency  of  sexual  selection.  In  such  cases  it 
may  be  suggested  with  more  plausibility  that  there  has  been  a 
double  or  mutual  process  of  sexual  selection  ;  the  more  vigorous 
and  precocious  females  selecting  the  more  attractive  and  vigorous 
males,  the  latter  rejecting  all  except  the  more  attractive  females. 
But  from  what  we  know  of  the  habits  of  animals,  this  view  is 
hardly  probable,  for  the  male  is  generally  eager  to  pair  with  any 
female.  It  is  more  probable  that  the  ornaments  common  to  both 
sexes  were  acquired  by  one  sex,  generally  the  male,  and  then 
transmitted  to  the  offspring  of  both  sexes.  If,  indeed,  during  a 

1  "  Mammals  and  Winter  Birds  of  E.  Florida,"  Bull.  Comp.  Zoology  (Harvard 
College),  pp.  234,  280,  295. 


298  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

lengthened  period  the  males  of  any  species  were  greatly  to  exceed 
the  females  in  number,  and  then  during  another  lengthened 
period,  but  under  different  conditions,  the  reverse  were  to  occur, 
a  double  but  not  simultaneous  process  of  sexual  selection  might 
easily  be  carried  on,  by  which  the  two  sexes  might  be  rendered 
widely  different. 

We  shall  hereafter  see  that  many  animals  exist,  of  which 
neither  sex  is  brilliantly  colored  or  provided  with  special  orna- 
ments, and  yet  the  members  of  both  sexes  or  of  one  alone  have 
probably  acquired  simple  colors,  such  as  white  or  black,  through 
sexual  selection.  The  absence  of  bright  tints  or  other  ornaments 
may  be  the  result  of  variations  of  the  right  kind  never  having 
occurred,  or  of  the  animals  themselves  having  preferred  plain 
black  or  white.  Obscure  tints  have  often  been  developed  through 
natural  selection  for  the  sake  of  protection,  and  the  acquirements 
through  sexual  selection  of  conspicuous  colors  appears  to  have 
been  sometimes  checked  from  the  danger  thus  incurred.  But  in 
other  cases  the  males  during  long  ages  may  have  struggled 
together  for  the  possession  of  the  females,  and  yet  no  effect  will 
have  been  produced,  unless  a  larger  number  of  offspring  were 
left  by  the  more  successful  males  to  inherit  their  superiority 
than  by  the  less  successful ;  and  this,  as  previously  shown, 
depends  on  many  complex  contingencies. 

Sexual  selection  acts  in  a  less  rigorous  manner  than  natural 
selection.  The  latter  produces  its  effects  by  the  life  or  death  at 
all  ages  of  the  more  or  less  successful  individuals.  Death,  indeed, 
not  rarely  ensues  from  the  conflicts  of  rival  males.  But  generally 
the  less  successful  male  merely  fails  to  obtain  a  female,  or  obtains 
a  retarded  and  less  vigorous  female  later  in  the  season,  or,  if 
polygamous,  obtains  fewer  females ;  so  that  they  leave  fewer, 
less  vigorous,  or  no  offspring.  In  regard  to  structures  acquired 
through  ordinary  or  natural  selection,  there  is  in  most  cases,  as 
long  as  the  conditions  of  life  remain  the  same,  a  limit  to  the 
amount  of  advantageous  modification  in  relation  to  certain  special 
purposes ;  but  in  regard  to  structures  adapted  to  make  one  male 
victorious  over  another,  either  in  fighting,  or  in  charming  the 
female,  there  is  no  definite  limit  to  the  amount  of  advantageous 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       299 

modification ;  so  that  as  long  as  the  proper  variations  arise  the 
work  of  sexual  selection  will  go  on.  This  circumstance  may 
partly  account  for  the  frequent  and  extraordinary  amount  of 
variability  presented  by  secondary  sexual  characters.  Neverthe- 
less, natural  selection  will  determine  that  such  characters  shall 
not  be  acquired  by  the  victorious  males  if  they  would  be  highly 
injurious,  either  by  expending  too  much  of  their  vital  powers,  or 
by  exposing  them  to  any  great  danger.  The  development,  how- 
ever, of  certain  structures  —  of  the  horns,  for  instance,  in  certain 
stags  —  has  been  carried  to  a  wonderful  extreme  ;  and  in  some 
cases  to  an  extreme  which,  as  far  as  the  general  conditions  of 
life  are  concerned,  must  be  slightly  injurious  to  the  male.  From 
this  fact  we  learn  that  the  advantages  which  favored  males  de- 
rive from  conquering  other  males  in  battle  or  courtship,  and  thus 
leaving  a  numerous  progeny,  are  in  the  long  run  greater  than 
those  derived  from  rather  more  perfect  adaptation  to  their  con- 
ditions of  life.  We  shall  further  see  that  the  power  to  charm 
the  female  has  sometimes  been  more  important  than  the  power 
to  conquer  other  males  in  battle. 

LAWS  OF  INHERITANCE 

In  order  to  understand  how  sexual  selection  has  acted  on  many 
animals  of  many  classes,  and  in  the  course  of  ages  has  produced 
a  conspicuous  result,  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  the  laws  of 
inheritance,  as  far  as  they  are  known.  Two  distinct  elements 
are  included  under  the  term  "inheritance,"  —the  transmission, 
and  the  development  of  characters ;  but  as  these  generally  go 
together,  the  distinction  is  often  overlooked.  We  see  this  dis- 
tinction in  those  characters  which  are  transmitted  through  the 
early  years  of  life,  but  are  developed  only  at  maturity  or  during 
old  age.  We  see  the  same  distinction  more  clearly  with  secondary 
sexual  characters,  for  these  are  transmitted  through  both  sexes, 
though  developed  in  one  alone.  That  they  are  present  in  both 
sexes  is  manifest  when  two  species,  having  strongly  marked 
sexual  characters,  are  crossed,  for  each  transmits  the  characters 
proper  to  its  own  male  and  female  sex  to  the  hybrid  offspring  of 


300  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

either  sex.  The  same  fact  is  likewise  manifest,  when  characters 
proper  to  the  male  are  occasionally  developed  in  the  female  when 
she  grows  old  or  becomes  diseased,  as,  for  instance,  when  the 
common  hen  assumes  the  flowing  tail  feathers,  hackles,  comb, 
spurs,  voice,  and  even  pugnacity  of  the  cock.  Conversely,  the 
same  thing  is  evident,  more  or  less  plainly,  with  castrated  males. 
Again,  independently  of  old  age  or  disease,  characters  are  occa- 
sionally transferred  from  the  male  to  the  female,  as  when,  in 
certain  breeds  of  the  fowl,  spurs  regularly  appear  in  the  young 
and  healthy  females.  But  in  truth  they  are  simply  developed  in 
the  female,  for  in  every  breed  each  detail  in  the  structure  of  the 
spur  is  transmitted  through  the  female  to  her  male  offspring. 
Many  cases  will  hereafter  be  given  where  the  female  exhibits, 
more  or  less  perfectly,  characters  proper  to  the  male,  in  whom 
they  must  have  been  first  developed,  and  then  transferred  to  the 
female.  The  converse  case  of  the  first  development  of  characters 
in  the  female  and  of  transference  to  the  male  is  less  frequent ; 
it  will  therefore  be  well  to  give  one  striking  instance.  With  bees 
the  pollen-collecting  apparatus  is  used  by  the  female  alone  for 
gathering  pollen  for  the  larvae,  yet  in  most  of  the  species  it  is 
partially  developed  in  the  males,  to  whom  it  is  quite  useless,  and 
it  is  perfectly  developed  in  the  males  of  Bombus  or  the  humble- 
bee.1  As  not  a  single  other  Hymenopterous  insect,  not  even  the 
wasp,  which  is  closely  allied  to  the  bee,  is  provided  with  a  pollen- 
collecting  apparatus,  we  have  no  grounds  for  supposing  that  male 
bees  primordially  collected  pollen  as  well  as  the  females  ;  although 
we  have  some  reason  to  suspect  that  male  mammals  primordially 
suckled  their  young  as  well  as  the  females.  Lastly,  in  all  cases 
of  reversion,  characters  are  transmitted  through  two,  three,  or 
many  more  generations,  and  are  then  developed  under  certain 
unknown  favorable  conditions.  This  important  distinction  between 
transmission  and  development  will  be  best  kept  in  mind  by  the 
aid  of  the  hypothesis  of  pangenesis.  According  to  this  hypothe- 
sis, every  unit  or  cell  of  the  body  throws  off  gemmules  or  un- 
developed atoms,  which  are  transmitted  to  the  offspring  of  both 

1  Hermann  Miiller,  "Anwendung  der  Danvin'schen   Lehre  auf  Bienen,"  Ver- 
handlungen  des  naturhistorischen  Vereins,  Jahrgang  XXIX,  p.  42. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN 


301 


sexes,  and  are  multiplied  by  self -division.  They  may  remain  un- 
developed during  the  early  years  of  life  or  during  successive 
generations  ;  and  their  development  into  units  or  cells,  like  those 
from  which  they  were  derived,  depends  on  their  affinity  for,  and 
union  with,  other  units  or  cells  previously  developed  in  the  due 
order  of  growth. 

Inheritance  at  Corresponding  Periods  of  Life 

This  tendency  is  well  established.  A  new  character,  appearing 
in  a  young  animal,  whether  it  lasts  throughout  life  or  is  only 
transient,  will,  in  general,  reappear  in  the  offspring  at  the  same 
age  and  last  for  the  same  time.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  a  new 
character  appears  at  maturity,  or  even  during  old  age,  it  tends 
to  reappear  in  the  offspring  at  the  same  advanced  age.  When 
deviations  from  this  rule  occur  the  transmitted  characters  much 
oftener  appear  before  than  after  the  corresponding  age.  As  I 
have  dwelt  on  this  subject  sufficiently  in  another  work,1  I  will 
here  merely  give  two  or  three  instances,  for  the  sake  of  recalling 
the  subject  to  the  reader's  mind.  In  several  breeds  of  the  fowl, 
the  down-covered  chickens,  the  young  birds  in  their  first  true 
plumage,  and  the  adults  differ  greatly  from  one  another,  as  well 
as  from  their  common  parent  form,  the  Callus  bankiva;  and 
these  characters  are  faithfully  transmitted  by  each  breed  to  their 
offspring  at  the  corresponding  periods  of  life.  For  instance,  the 
chickens  of  spangled  Hamburgs,  while  covered  with  down,  have 
a  few  dark  spots  on  the  head  and  rump,  but  are  not  striped 
longitudinally,  as  in  many  other  breeds ;  in  their  first  true  plum- 
age "they  are  beautifully  penciled,"  that  is,  each  feather  is  trans- 
versely marked  by  numerous  dark  bars ;  but  in  their  second 
plumage  the  feathers  all  become  spangled  or  tipped  with  a  dark 
round  spot.2  Hence  in  this  breed  variations  have  occurred  at, 

1  The  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domestication,  1868,  Vol.  II, 
p.  75.    In  the  last  chapter  but  one,  the  provisional  hypothesis  of  pangenesis, 
above  alluded  to,  is  fully  explained. 

2  These  facts  are  given  on  the  high  authority  of  a  great  breeder,  Mr.  Teebay. 
See  Tegetmeier's  Poultry  Book,  1868,  p.  158.    On  the  characters  of  chickens  of 
different  breeds,  and  on  the  breeds  of  the  pigeon,  alluded  to  in  the  following 
paragraph,  see  Variation  of  Animals,  etc.,  Vol.  I,  pp.  160,  249;  Vol.  II,  p.  77- 


302  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  been  transmitted  to,  three  distinct  periods  of  life.  The 
pigeon  offers  a  more  remarkable  case,  because  the  aboriginal 
parent  species  does  not  undergo  any  change  of  plumage  with 
advancing  age,  excepting  that  at  maturity  the  breast  becomes 
more  iridescent ;  yet  there  are  breeds  which  do  not  acquire  their 
characteristic  colors  until  they  have  molted  two,  three,  or  four 
times,  and  these  modifications  of  plumage  are  regularly  trans- 
mitted. 

Inheritance  at  Corresponding  Seasons  of  the  Year 

With  animals  in  a  state  of  nature,  innumerable  instances  occur 
of  characters  appearing  periodically  at  different  seasons.  We 
see  this  in  the  horns  of  the  stag,  and  in  the  fur  of  arctic  animals, 
which  becomes  thick  and  white  during  the  winter.  Many  birds 
acquire  bright  colors  and  other  decorations  during  the  breeding 
season  alone.  Pallas  states  l  that  in  Siberia  domestic  cattle  and 
horses  become  lighter  colored  during  the  winter ;  and  I  have  myself 
observed  and  heard  of  similar  strongly  marked  changes  of  color, 
that  is,  from  brownish  cream  color  or  reddish  brown  to  a  perfect 
white,  in  several  ponies  in  England.  Although  I  do  not  know  that 
this  tendency  to  change  the  color  of  the  coat  during  different 
seasons  is  transmitted,  yet  it  probably  is  so,  as  all  shades  of  color 
are  strongly  inherited  by  the  horse.  Nor  is  this  form  of  inheritance, 
as  limited  by  the  seasons,  more  remarkable  than  its  limitation  by 
age  or  sex. 

Inheritance  as  limited  by  Sex 

The  equal  transmission  of  characters  to  both  sexes  is  the  com- 
monest form  of  inheritance,  at  least  with  those  animals  which  do 
not  present  strongly  marked  sexual  differences,  and  indeed  with 
many  of  these.  But  characters  are  somewhat  commonly  trans- 
ferred exclusively  to  that  "sex  in  which  they  first  appear.  Ample 
evidence  on  this  head  has  been  advanced  in  my  work  on  Varia- 
tion under  Domestication,  but  a  few  instances  may  here  be 

1  Novae  species  Quadrupedum  e  Glirium  ordine,  1778,  p.  7.  On  the  transmis- 
sion of  color  by  the  horse,  see  Variation  of  Animals,  etc.,  under  Domestication, 
Vol.  I,  p.  51.  Also  Vol.  II,  p.  71,  for  a  general  discussion  on  "Inheritance  as 
limited  by  Sex." 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN 


303 


given.  There  are  breeds  of  the  sheep  and  goat  in  which  the 
horns  of  the  male  differ  greatly  in  shape  from  those  of  the  female  ; 
and  these  differences,  acquired  under  domestication,  are  regularly 
transmitted  to  the  same  sex.  As  a  rule,  it  is  the  females  alone 
in  cats  which  are  tortoise  shell,  the  corresponding  color  in  the 
males  being  rusty  red.  With  most  breeds  of  the  fowl  the  charac- 
ters proper  to  each  sex  are  transmitted  to  the  same  sex  alone.  So 
general  is  this  form  of  transmission  that  it  is  an  anomaly  when 
variations  in  certain  breeds  are  transmitted  equally  to  both  sexes. 
There  are  also  certain  subbreeds  of  the  fowl  in  which  the  males 
can  hardly  be  distinguished  from  one  another,  while  the  females 
differ  considerably  in  color.  The  sexes  of  the  pigeon  in  the 
parent  species  do  not  differ  in  any  external  character ;  neverthe- 
less, in  certain  domesticated  breeds  the  male  is  colored  differ- 
ently from  the  female.1  The  wattle  in  the  English  carrier  pigeon 
and  the  crop  in  the  pouter  are  more  highly  developed  in  the 
male  than  in  the  female ;  and  although  these  characters  have 
been  gained  through  long-continued  selection  by  man,  the  slight 
differences  between  the  sexes  are  wholly  due  to  the  form  of 
inheritance  which  has  prevailed;  for  they  have  arisen  not  from, 
but  rather  in  opposition  to,  the  wish  of  the  breeder. 

Most  of  our  domestic  races  have  been  formed  by  the  accumu- 
lation of  many  slight  variations ;  and  as  some  of  the  successive 
steps  have  been  transmitted  to  one  sex  alone,  and  some  to  both 
sexes,  we  find  in  the  different  breeds  of  the  same  species  all 
gradations  between  great  sexual  dissimilarity  and  complete  simi- 
larity. Instances  have  already  been  given  of  the  breeds  of  the 
fowl  and  pigeon,  and  under  nature  analogous  cases  are  common. 
With  animals  under  domestication,  but  whether  in  nature  I  will 
not  venture  to  say,  one  sex  may  lose  characters  proper  to  it,  and 
may  thus  come  somewhat  to  resemble  the  opposite  sex ;  for 
instance,  the  males  of  some  breeds  of  the  fowl  have  lost  their 
masculine  tail  plumes  and  hackles.  On  the  other  hand,  the  dif- 
ferences between  the  sexes  may  be  increased  under  domestication, 

1  Dr.  Chapuis,  Le  Pigeon  Voyageur  Beige,  1865,  p.  87.  Boitard  et  Corbe,  Les 
Pigeons  de  Voliere,  etc.,  1824,  p.  173.  See  also,  on  similar  differences  in  certain 
breeds  at  Modena,  Le  variazioni  dei  Colombi  domestici,  del  Paolo  Bonizzi,  1873. 


304  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

as  with  merino  sheep,  in  which  the  ewes  have  lost  their  horns. 
Again,  characters  proper  to  one  sex  may  suddenly  appear  in  the 
other  sex,  as  in  those  subbreeds  of  the  fowl  in  which  the  hens 
acquire  spurs  while  young,  or  as  in  certain  Polish  subbreeds,  in 
which  the  females,  as  there  is  reason  to  believe,  originally  acquired 
a  crest,  and  subsequently  transferred  it  to  the  males.  All  these 
cases  are  intelligible  on  the  hypothesis  of  pangenesis  ;  for  they 
depend  on  the  gemmules  of  certain  parts,  although  present  in 
both  sexes,  becoming,  through  the  influence  of  domestication, 
either  dormant  or  developed  in  either  sex. 

There  is  one  difficult  question  which  it  will  be  convenient  to 
defer  to  a  future  chapter ;  namely,  whether  a  character  at  first 
developed  in  both  sexes  could  through  selection  be  limited  in 
its  development  to  one  sex  alone.  If,  for  instance,  a  breeder 
observed  that  some  of  his  pigeons  (of  which  the  characters  are 
usually  transferred  in  an  equal  degree  to  both  sexes)  varied  into 
pale  blue,  could  he  by  long-continued  selection  make  a  breed  in 
which  the  males  alone  should  be  of  this  tint,  while  the  females 
remained  unchanged  ?  I  will  here  only  say,  that  this,  though 
perhaps  not  impossible,  would  be  extremely  difficult ;  for  the 
natural  result  of  breeding  from  the  pale  blue  males  would  be  to 
change  the  whole  stock  of  both  sexes  to  this  tint.  If,  however, 
variations  of  the  desired  tint  appeared,  which  were  from  the  first 
limited  in  their  development  to  the  male  sex,  there  would  not  be 
the  least  difficulty  in  making  a  breed  with  the  two  sexes  of  a 
different  color,  as  indeed  has  been  effected  with  a  Belgian  breed, 
in  which  the  males  alone  are  streaked  with  black.  In  a  similar 
manner,  if  any  variation  appeared  in  a  female  pigeon,  which  was 
from  the  first  sexually  limited  in  its  development  to  the  females, 
it  would  be  easy  to  make  a  breed  with  the  females  alone  thus 
characterized ;  but  if  the  variation  was  not  thus  originally  limited, 
the  process  would  be  extremely  difficult,  perhaps  impossible.1 

1  Since  the  publication  of  the  first  edition  of  this  work  it  has  been  highly 
satisfactory  to  me  to  find  the  following  remarks  (The  Field,  September,  1872) 
from  so  experienced  a  breeder  as  Mr.  Tegetmeier.  After  describing  some  curious 
cases  in  pigeons,  of  the  transmission  of  color  by  one  sex  alone,  and  the  formation 
of  asubbreed  with  this  character,  he  says  :  "  It  is  a  singular  circumstance  that  Mr. 
Darwin  should  have  suggested  the  possibility  of  modifying  the  sexual  colors  of 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       305 

On  the  Relation  between  the  Period  of  Development  of  a  Character 
and  its  Transmission  to  One  Sex  or  to  Both  Sexes 

Why  certain  characters  should  be  inherited  by  both  sexes,  and 
other  characters  by  one  sex  alone,  namely,  by  that  sex  in  which 
the  character  first  appeared,  is  in  most  cases  quite  unknown. 
We  cannot  even  conjecture  why  with  certain  subbreeds  of  the 
pigeon,  black  striae,  though  transmitted  through  the  female, 
should  be  developed  in  the  male  alone,  while  every  other  charac- 
ter is  equally  transferred  to  both  sexes  ;  why,  again,  with  cats, 
the  tortoise-shell  color  should,  with  rare  exceptions,  be  developed 
in  the  female  alone.  The  very  same  character,  such  as  deficient 
or  supernumerary  digits,  color-blindness,  etc.,  may  with  mankind 
be  inherited  by  the  males  alone  of  one  family,  and  in  another 
family  by  the  females  alone,  though  in  both  cases  transmitted 
through  the  opposite  as  well  as  through  the  same  sex.1  Although 
we  are  thus  ignorant,  the  two  following  rules  seem  often  to  hold 
good,  —  that  variations  which  first  appear  in  either  sex  at  a  late 
period  of  life  tend  to  be  developed  in  the  same  sex  alone,  while 
variations  which  first  appear  early  in  life  in  either  sex  tend  to  be 
developed  in  both  sexes.  I  am,  however,  far  from  supposing  that 
this  is  the  sole  determining  cause.  As  I  have  not  elsewhere  dis- 
cussed this  subject,  and  as  it  has  an  important  bearing  on  sexual 
selection,  I  must  here  enter  into  lengthy  and  somewhat  intricate 
details. 

It  is  in  itself  probable  that  any  character  appearing  at  an  early 
age  would  tend  to  be  inherited  equally  by  both  sexes,  for  the 
sexes  do  not  differ  much  in  constitution  before  the  power  of 
reproduction  is  gained.  On  the  other  hand,  after  this  power  has 
been  gained  and  the  sexes  have  come  to  differ  in  constitution, 
the  gemmules  (if  I  may  again  use  the  language  of  pangenesis) 
which  are  cast  off  from  each  varying  part  in  the  one  sex  would 
be  much  more  likely  to  possess  the  proper  affinities  for  uniting 

birds  by  a  course  of  artificial  selection.  When  he  did  so  he  was  in  ignorance  of 
these  facts  that  I  have  related ;  but  it  is  remarkable  how  very  closely  he  suggested 
the  right  method  of  procedure." 

1  References  are  given  in  my  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domesti- 
cation, Vol.  II,  p.  72. 


306  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

with  the  tissues  of  the  same  sex,  and  thus  becoming  developed, 
than  with  those  of  the  opposite  sex. 

I  was  first  led  to  infer  that  a  relation  of  this  kind  exists,  from 
the  fact  that  whenever  and  in  whatever  manner  the  adult  male 
differs  from  the  adult  female,  he  differs  in  the  same  manner  from 
the  young  of  both  sexes.  The  generality  of  this  fact  is  quite 
remarkable;  it  holds  good  with  almost  all  mammals,  birds,  am- 
phibians, and  fishes ;  also  with  many  crustaceans,  spiders,  and 
some  few  insects,  such  as  certain  Orthoptera  and  Libellulae.  In 
all  these  cases  the  variations,  through  the  accumulation  of  which 
the  male  acquired  his  proper  masculine  characters,  must  have 
occurred  at  a  somewhat  late  period  of  life,  otherwise  the  young 
males  would  have  been  similarly  characterized;  and  conformably 
with  our  rule,  the  variations  are  transmitted  to  and  developed  in 
the  adult  males  alone.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  adult  male 
closely  resembles  the  young  of  both  sexes  (these,  with  rare  excep- 
tions, being  alike),  he  generally  resembles  the  adult  female  ;  and 
in  most  of  these  cases  the  variations  through  which  the  young 
and  old  acquired  their  present  characters  probably  occurred, 
according  to  our  rule,  during  youth.  But  there  is  here  room  for 
doubt,  for  characters  are  sometimes  transferred  to  the  offspring 
at  an  earlier  age  than  that  at  which  they  first  appeared  in  the 
parents,  so  that  the  parents  may  have  varied  when  adult,  and 
have  transferred  their  characters  to  their  offspring  while  young. 
There  are,  moreover,  many  animals  in  which  the  two  sexes 
closely  resemble  each  other,  and  yet  both  differ  from  their  young ; 
and  here  the  characters  of  the  adults  must  have  been  acquired 
late  in  life;  nevertheless,  these  characters,  in  apparent  contra- 
diction to  our  rule,  are  transferred  to  both  sexes.  We  must  not, 
however,  overlook  the  possibility  or  even  probability  of  successive 
variations  of  the  same  nature  occurring,  under  exposure  to  simi- 
lar conditions,  simultaneously  in  both  sexes  at  a  rather  late 
period  of  life ;  and  in  this  case  the  variations  would  be  transferred 
to  the  offspring  of  both  sexes  at  a  corresponding  late  age  ;  and 
there  would  then  be  no  real  contradiction  to  the  rule  that  varia- 
tions occurring  late  in  life  are  transferred  exclusively  to  the  sex 
in  which  they  first  appeared  This  latter  rule  seems  to  hold  true 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       307 

more  generally  than  the  second  one,  namely,  that  variations 
which  occur  in  either  sex  early  in  life  tend  to  be  transferred  to 
both  sexes.  As  it  was  obviously  impossible  even  to  estimate  in 
how  large  a  number  of  cases  throughout  the  animal  kingdom 
these  two  propositions  held  good,  it  occurred  to  me  to  investigate 
some  striking  instances,  and  to  rely  on  the  result. 

An  excellent  case  for  investigation  is  afforded  by  the  deer 
family.  In  all  the  species  but  one,  the  horns  are  developed  only 
in  the  males,  though  certainly  transmitted  through  the  females, 
and  capable  of  abnormal  development  in  them.  In  the  reindeer, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  female  is  provided'  with  horns ;  so  that  in 
this  species  the  horns  ought,  according  to  our  rule,  to  appear 
early  in  life,  long  before  the  two  sexes  are  mature  and  have  come 
to  differ  much  in  constitution.  In  all  the  other  species  the  horns 
ought  to  appear  later  in  life,  which  would  lead  to  their  develop- 
ment in  that  sex  alone  in  which  they  first  appeared  in  the  pro- 
genitor of  the  whole  family.  Now  in  seven  species,  belonging  to 
distinct  sections  of  the  family  and  inhabiting  different  regions, 
in  which  the  stags  alone  bear  horns,  I  find  that  the  horns  first 
appear  at  periods  varying  from  nine  months  after  birth  in  the 
roebuck  to  ten,  twelve,  or  even  more  months  in  the  stags  of  the 
six  other  and  larger  species.1  But  with  the  reindeer  the  case  is 
widely  different ;  for  as- 1  hear  from  Professor  Nilsson,  who  kindly 
made  special  inquiries  for  me  in  Lapland,  the  horns  appear  in  the 
young  animals  within  four  or  five  weeks  after  birth,  and  at  the 
same  time  in  both  sexes.  So  that  here  we  have  a  structure,  de- 
veloped at  a  most  unusually  early  age  in  one  species  of  the  family, 
and  likewise  common  to  both  sexes  in  this  one  species  alone. 

In  several  kinds  of  antelopes  only  the  males  are  provided  with 
horns,  while  in  the  greater  number  both  sexes  bear  horns.  With 

1  I  am  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Cupples  for  having  made  inquiries  for  me  in  regard 
to  the  roebuck  and  red  deer  of  Scotland  from  Mr.  Robertson,  the  experienced 
head  forester  to  the  Marquis  of  Breadalbane.  In  regard  to  fallow  deer,  I  have 
to  thank  Mr.  Eyton  and  others  for  information.  For  the  Cervtis  alces  of  North 
America,  see  Land  and  Water,  1868,  pp.  221  and  254;  for  the  C.  Virginianus 
and  strongyloceros  of  the  same  continent,  see  J.  D.  Caton,  in  Ottawa  Academy 
of  Natural  Science,  1868,  p.  13.  For  Cervus  Eldi  of  Pegu,  see  Lieutenant  Beavan, 
Proc.  Zoblog.  Soc.,  1867,  p.  762. 


308  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

respect  to  the  period  of  development,  Mr.  Blyth  informs  me  that 
there  was  at  one  time  in  the  Zoological  Gardens  a  young  koodoo 
(Ant.  strep  siceros],  of  which  the  males  alone  are  horned,  and  also 
the  young  of  a  closely  allied  species,  the  eland  (Ant.  oreas),  in 
which  both  sexes  are  horned.  Now  it  is  in  strict  conformity  with 
our  rule  that  in  the  young  male  koodoo,  although  ten  months 
old,  the  horns  were  remarkably  small,  considering  the  size  ulti- 
mately attained  by  them ;  while  in  the  young  male  eland,  although 
only  three  months  old,  the  horns  were  already  very  much  larger 
than  in  the  koodoo.  It  is  also  a  noticeable  fact  that  in  the  prong- 
horned  antelope  l  only  a  few  of  the  females,  about  one  in  five, 
have  horns,  and  these  are  in  a  rudimentary  state,  though  some- 
times above  four  inches  long;  so  that  as  far  as  concerns  the 
possession  of  horns  by  the  males  alone,  this  species  is  in  an  inter- 
mediate condition,  and  the  horns  do  not  appear  until  about  five  or 
six  months  after  birth.  Therefore  in  comparison  with  what  little 
we  know  of  the  development  of  the  horns  in  other  antelopes, 
and  from  what  we  do  know  with  respect  to  the  horns  of  deer, 
cattle,  etc.,  those  of  the  prong-horned  antelope  appear  at  an 
intermediate  period  of  life,  —  that  is,  not  very  early,  as  in  cattle 
and  sheep,  nor  very  late,  as  in  the  larger  deer  and  antelopes. 
The  horns  of  sheep,  goats,  and  cattle,  which  are  well  developed 
in  both  sexes,  though  not  quite  equal  in  size,  can  be  felt,  or 
even  seen,  at  birth  or  soon  afterward.2  Our  rule,  however,  seems 
to  fail  in  some  breeds  of  sheep,  for  instance,  merinos,  in  which 
the  rams  alone  are  horned ;  for  I  cannot  find  on  inquiry,3  that 
the  horns  are  developed  later  in  life  in  this  breed  than  in  ordinary 

1  Antilocapra  Americana.    I  have  to  thank  Dr.  Canfield  for  information  with 
respect  to  the  horns  of  the  female.    See  also  his   paper  in  Proc.  Zoolog.  Soc., 
1866,  p.  109  ;  also  Owen's  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  627. 

2  I  have  been  assured  that  the  horns  of  the  sheep  in  North  Wales  can  always 
be  felt,  and  are  sometimes  even  an  inch  in  length  at  birth.    Youatt  says  (Cattle, 
1834,  p.  277)  that  the  prominence  of  the  frontal  bone  in  cattle  penetrates  the 
cutis  at  birth,  and  that  the  horny  matter  is  soon  formed  over  it. 

8  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  Professor  Victor  Carus  for  having  made  inquiries  for 
me,  from  the  highest  authorities,  with  respect  to  the  merino  sheep  of  Saxony.  On 
the  Guinea  coast  of  Africa  there  is,  however,  a  breed  of  sheep  in  which,  as  with 
merinos,  the  rams  alone  bear  horns  ;  and  Mr.  Winwood  Reade  informs  me  that 
in  one  case  observed  by  him  a  young  ram,  bom  on  February  10,  first  showed 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       309 

sheep  in  which  both  sexes  are  horned.  But  with  domesticated 
sheep  the  presence  or  absence  of  horns  is  not  a  firmly  fixed 
character ;  for  a  certain  proportion  of  the  merino  ewes  bear  small 
horns,  and  some  of  the  rams  are  hornless;  and  in  most  breeds 
hornless  ewes  are  occasionally  produced. 

Dr.  W.  Marshall  has  lately  made  a  special  study  of  the  pro- 
tuberances so  common  on  the  heads  of  birds,1  and  he  comes 
to  the  following  conclusion :  that  with  those  species  in  which  they 
are  confined  to  the  males,  they  are  developed  late  in  life ;  whereas 
with  those  species  in  which  they  are  common  to  the  two  sexes, 
they  are  developed  at  a  very  early  period.  This  is  certainly  a 
striking  confirmation  of  my  two  laws  of  inheritance. 

In  most  of  the  species  of  the  splendid  family  of  the  pheasants 
the  males  differ  conspicuously  from  the  females,  and  they  acquire 
their  ornaments  at  a  rather  late  period  of  life.  The  eared  pheas- 
ant (Crossoptilon  aurituni),  however,  offers  a  remarkable  excep- 
tion, for  both  sexes  possess  the  fine  caudal  plumes,  the  large  ear 
tufts,  and  the  crimson  velvet  about  the  head  ;  I  find  that  all  these 
characters  appear  very  early  in  life  in  accordance  with  rule.  The 
adult  male  can,  however,  be  distinguished  from  the  adult  female 
by  the  presence  of  spurs;  and  conformably  with  our  rule,  these 
do  not  begin  to  be  developed  before  the  age  of  six  months,  as  I 
am  assured  by  Mr.  Bartlett,  and  even  at  this  age,  the  two  sexes 
can  hardly  be  distinguished.2  The  male  and  female  peacock  dif- 
fer conspicuously  from  each  other  in  almost  every  part  of  their 
plumage,  except  in  the  elegant  head  crest  which  is  common  to 

horns  on  March  6,  so  that  in  this  instance,  in  conformity  with  rule,  the  develop- 
ment of  the  horns  occurred  at  a  later  period  of  life  than  in  Welsh  sheep,  in  which 
both  sexes  are  horned. 

1  "Ueber  die  knbchernen  Schadelhocker  der  Vogel,"  in  the  Niederldndisches 
Archiv  fur  Zoologie,  1872,  Band  I,  Heft  2. 

2  In  the  common  peacock   (Pavo  cristatus)   the  male  alone  possesses  spurs, 
while  both  sexes  of  the  Java  peacock  (P.  muticus)  offer  the  unusual  case  of  being 
furnished  with  spurs.    Hence  I  fully  expected  that  in  the   latter  species  they 
would  have  been  developed  earlier  in  life  than  in  the  common  peacock ;  but 
M.  Hegt  of  Amsterdam  informs  me,  that  with  young  birds  of  the  previous  year,  of 
both  species,  compared  on  April  23,  1869,  there  was  no  difference  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  spurs.    The  spurs,  however,  were  as  yet  represented  merely  by  slight 
knobs  or  elevations.   I  presume  that  I  should  have  been  informed  if  any  difference 
in  the  rate  of  development  had  been  observed  subsequently. 


310  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

both  sexes ;  and  this  is  developed  very  early  in  life,  long  before 
the  other  ornaments  which  are  confined  to  the  male.  The  wild 
duck  offers  an  analogous  case,  for  the  beautiful  green  speculum 
on  the  wings  is  common  to  both  sexes,  though  duller  and  some- 
what smaller  in  the  female,  and  it  is  developed  early  in  life,  while 
the  curled  tail  feathers  and  other  ornaments  of  the  male  are 
developed  later.1  Between  such  extreme  cases  of  close  sexual 
resemblance  and  wide  dissimilarity,  as  those  of  the  Crossoptilon 
and  peacock,  many  intermediate  ones  could  be  given,  in  which 
the  characters  follow  our  two  rules  in  their  order  of  develop- 
ment. • 

As  most  insects  emerge  from  the  pupal  state  in  a  mature  con- 
dition, it  is  doubtful  whether  the  period  of  development  can 
determine  the  transference  of  their  characters  to  one  or  to  both 
sexes.  But  we  do  not  know  that  the  colored  scales,  for  instance, 
in  two  species  of  butterflies,  in  one  of  which  the  sexes  differ  in 
color,  while  in  the  other  they  are  alike,  are  developed  at  the 
same  relative  age  in  the  cocoon.  Nor  do  we  know  whether  all 
the  scales  are  simultaneously  developed  on  the  wings  of  the  same 
species  of  butterfly  in  which  certain  colored  marks  are  confined 
to  one  sex,  while  others  are  common  to  both  sexes.  A  difference 
of  this  kind  in  the  period  of  development  is  not  so  improbable  as 
it  may  at  first  appear ;  for  with  the  Orthoptera,  which  assume 
their  adult  state,  not  by  a  single  metamorphosis,  but  by  a  succes- 
sion of  molts,  the  young  males  of  some  species  at  first  resemble 
the  females,  and  acquire  their  distinctive  masculine  characters 
only  at  a  later  molt.  Strictly  analogous  cases  occur  at  the  suc- 
cessive molts  of  certain  male  crustaceans. 

1  In  some  other  species  of  the  duck  family  the  speculum  differs  in  a  greater 
degree  in  the  two  sexes ;  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  whether  its  full 
development  occurs  later  in  life  in  the  males  of  such  species  than  in  the  male  of 
the  common  duck,  as  ought  to  be  the  case  according  to  our  rule.  With  the  allied 
Mergus  cucullatus  we  have,  however,  a  case  of  this  kind  :  the  two  sexes  differ 
conspicuously  in  general  plumage,  and  to  a  considerable  degree  in  the  speculum, 
which  is  pure  white  in  the  male  and  grayish  white  in  the  female.  Now  the  young 
males  at  first  entirely  resemble  the  females,  and  have  a  grayish  white  speculum, 
which  becomes  pure  white  at  an  earlier  age  than  that  at  which  the  adult  male 
acquires  his  other  and  more  strongly  marked  sexual  differences.  See  Audubon, 
Ornithological  Biography,  1835,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  249-250. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       31! 

We  have  as  yet  considered  the  transference  of  characters, 
relatively  to  their  period  of  development,  only  in  species  in  a 
natural  state ;  we  will  now  turn  to  domesticated  animals,  and  first 
touch  on  monstrosities  and  diseases.  The  presence  of  supernu- 
merary digits,  and  the  absence  of  certain  phalanges,  must  be 
determined  at  an  early  embryonic  period,  —  the  tendency  to  pro- 
fuse bleeding  is  at  least  congenital,  as  is  probably  color-blindness, 
—  yet  these  peculiarities  and  other  similar  ones  are  often  limited 
in  their  transmission  to  one  sex ;  so  that  the  rule  that  characters, 
developed  at  an  early  period,  tend  to  be  transmitted  to  both 
sexes  here  wholly  fails.  But  this  rule,  as  before  remarked,  does 
not  appear  to  be  nearly  so  general  as  the  converse  one,  namely, 
that  characters  which  appear  late  in  life  in  one  sex  are  trans- 
mitted exclusively  to  the  same  sex.  From  the  fact  of  the  above 
abnormal  peculiarities  becoming  attached  to.  one  sex  long  before 
the  sexual  functions  are  active,  we  may  infer  that  there  must  be 
some  difference  between  the  sexes  at  an  extremely  early  age. 
With  respect  to  sexually  limited  diseases,  we  know  too  little  of 
the  period  at  which  they  originate  to  draw  any  safe  conclusion. 
Gout,  however,  seems  to  fall  under  our  rule,  for  it  is  generally 
caused  by  intemperance  during  manhood,  and  is  transmitted  from 
the  father  to  his  sons  in  a  much  more  marked  manner  than  to 
his  daughters. 

In  the  various  domestic  breeds  of  sheep,  goats,  and  cattle  the 
males  differ  from  their  respective  females  in  the  shape  or  develop- 
ment of  their  horns,  forehead,  mane,  dewlap,  tail,  and  hump  on 
the  shoulders  ;  and  these  peculiarities,  in  accordance  with  our 
rule,  are  not  fully  developed  until  a  rather  late  period  of  life. 
The  sexes  of  dogs  do  not  differ,  except  that  in  certain  breeds, 
especially  in  the  Scotch  deerhound,  the  male  is  much  larger  and 
heavier  than  the  female  ;  and,  as  we  shall  see  in  a  future  chapter, 
the  male  goes  on  increasing  in  size  to  an  unusually  late  period  of 
life,  which,  according  to  rule,  will  account  for  his  increased  size 
being  transmitted  to  his  male  offspring  alone.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  tortoise-shell  color,  which  is  confined  to  female  cats,  is  quite 
distinct  at  birth,  and  this  case  violates  the  rule.  There  is  a  breed 
of  pigeons  in  which  the  males  alone  are  streaked  with  black,  and 


312  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  streaks  can  be  detected  even  in  the  nestlings  ;  but  they  be- 
come more  conspicuous  at  each  successive  molt,  so  that  this 
case  partly  opposes  and  partly  supports  the  rule.  With  the 
English  carrier  and  pouter  pigeons  the  full  development  of  the 
wattle  and  the  crop  occurs  rather  late  in  life,  and  conformably 
with  the  rule,  these  characters  are  transmitted  in  full  perfection 
to  the  males  alone.  The  following  cases  perhaps  come  within 
the  class  previously  alluded  to,  in  which  both  sexes  have  varied 
in  the  same  manner  at  a  rather  late  period  of  life,  and  have  con- 
sequently transferred  their  new  characters  to  both  sexes  at  a 
corresponding  late  period  ;  and  if  so,  these  cases  are  not  opposed 
to  our  rule :  there  exist  subbreeds  of  the  pigeon,  described  by 
Neumeister,1  in  which  both  sexes  change  their  color  during  two 
or  three  molts  (as  is  likewise  the  case  with  the  almond  tum- 
bler) ;  nevertheless,  these  changes,  though  occurring  rather  late  in 
life,  are  common  to  both  sexes.  One  variety  of  the  canary  bird, 
namely,  the  London  Prize,  offers  a  nearly  analogous  case. 

With  the  breeds  of  the  fowl  the  inheritance  of  various  charac- 
ters by  one  or  both  sexes  seems  generally  determined  by  the 
period  at  which  such  characters  are  developed.  Thus  in  all  the 
many  breeds  in  which  the  adult  male  differs  greatly  in  color 
from  the  female,  as  well  as  from  the  wild  parent  species,  he  dif- 
fers also  from  the  young  male,  so  that  the  newly  acquired  charac- 
ters must  have  appeared  at  a  rather  late  period  of  life.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  most  of  the  breeds  in  which  the  two  sexes  resemble 
each  other  the  young  are  colored  in  nearly  the  same  manner  as 
their  parents,  and  this  renders  it  probable  that  their  colors  first 
appeared  early  in  life.  We  have  instances  of  this  fact  in  all  black 
and  white  breeds,  in  which  the  young  and  old  of  both  sexes  are 
alike ;  nor  can  it  be  maintained  that  •  there  is  something  peculiar 
in  a  black  or  white  plumage,  which  leads  to  its  transference  to 
both  sexes  ;  for  the  males  alone  of  many  natural  species  are 
either  black  or  white,  the  females  being  differently  colored. 
With  the  so-called  cuckoo  subbreeds  of  the  fowl,  in  which  the 
feathers  are  transversely  penciled  with  dark  stripes,  both  sexes 

1  Das  Ganze  der  Taubenzucht,  1837,  Seite  21,  24.  For  the  case  of  the  streaked 
pigeons,  see  Dr.  Chapuis,  Le  Pigeon  Voyageur  Beige,  1865,  p.  87. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       313 

and  the  chickens  are  colored  in  nearly  the  same  manner.  The 
laced  plumage  of  the  Sebright  bantam  is  the  same  in  both  sexes, 
and  in  the  young  chickens  the  wing  feathers  are  distinctly  though 
imperfectly  laced.  Spangled  Hamburgs,  however,  offer  a  partial 
exception,  for  the  two  sexes,  though  not  quite  alike,  resemble 
each  other  more  closely  than  do  the  sexes  of  the  aboriginal  par- 
ent species ;  yet  they  acquire  their  characteristic  plumage  late  in 
life,  for  the  chickens  are  distinctly  penciled.  With  respect  to 
other  characters  besides  color,  in  the  wild  parent  species  and  in 
most  of  the  domestic  breeds,  the  males  alone  possess  a  well- 
developed  comb ;  but  in  the  young  of  the  Spanish  fowl  it  is 
largely  developed  at  a  very  early  age,  and,  in  accordance  with  this 
early  development  in  the  male,  it  is  of  unusual  size  in  the  adult 
female.  In  the  game  breeds  pugnacity  is  developed  at  a  wonder- 
fully early  age,  of  which  curious  proofs  could  be  given  ;  and  this 
character  is  transmitted  to  both  sexes,  so  that  the  hens,  from 
their  extreme  pugnacity,  are  now  generally  exhibited  in  separate 
pens.  With  the  Polish  breeds  the  bony  protuberance  of  the  skull 
which  supports  the  crest  is  partially  developed  even  before  the 
chickens  are  hatched,  and  the  crest  itself  soon  begins  to  grow, 
though  at  first  feebly;1  and  in  this  breed  the  adults  of  both 
sexes  are  characterized  by  a  great  bony  protuberance  and  an 
immense  crest. 

Finally,  from  what  we  have  now  seen  of  the  relation  which 
exists  in  many  natural  species  and  domesticated  races  between 
the  period  of  the  development  of  their  characters  and  the  manner 
of  their  transmission,  —  for  example,  the  striking  fact  of  the  early 
growth  of  the  horns  in  the  reindeer,  in  which  both  sexes  bear 
horns,  in  comparison  with  their  much  later  growth  in  the  other 
species,  in  which  the  male  alone  bears  horns,  —  we  may  conclude 
that  one  though  not  the  sole  cause  of  characters  being  exclusively 
inherited  by  one  sex  is  their  development  at  a  late  age.  And 
secondly,  that  one,  though  apparently  a  less  efficient,  cause  of 

1  For  full  particulars  and  references  on  all  these  points  respecting  the  several 
breeds  of  the  fowl,  see  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domestication, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  250,  256.  In  regard  to  the  higher  animals,  the  sexual  differences  which 
have  arisen  under  domestication  are  described  in  the  same  work  under  the  head 
of  each  species. 


3 14  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

characters  being  inherited  by  both  sexes  is  their  development  at 
an  early  age,  while  the  sexes  differ  but  little  in  constitution.  It 
appears,  however,  that  some  difference  must  exist  between  the 
sexes,  even  during  a  very  early  embryonic  period,  for  characters 
developed  at  this  age  not  rarely  become  attached  to  one  sex. 

Summary  and  Concluding  Remarks 

From  the  foregoing  discussion  on  the  various  laws  of  inherit- 
ance we  learn  that  the  characters  of  the  parents  often,  or  even 
generally,  tend  to  become  developed  in  the  offspring  of  the  same 
sex,  at  the  same  age,  and  periodically  at  the  same  season  of  the 
year  in  which  they  first  appeared  in  the  parents.  But  these 
rules,  owing  to  unknown  causes,  are  far  from  being  fixed.  Hence 
during  the  modification  of  a  species  the  successive  changes  may 
readily  be  transmitted  in  different  ways :  some  to  one  sex,  and 
some  to  both ;  some  to  the  offspring  at  one  age,  and  some  to 
the  offspring  at  all  ages.  Not  only  are  the  laws  of  inheritance 
extremely  complex,  but  so  are  the  causes  which  induce  and  gov- 
ern variability.  The  variations  thus  induced  are  preserved  and 
accumulated  by  sexual  selection,  which  is  in  itself  an  extremely 
complex  affair,  depending,  as  it  does,  on  the  ardor  in  love,  the 
courage,  and  the  rivalry  of  the  males,  as  well  as  on  the  powers 
of  perception,  the  taste,  and  will  of  the  female.  Sexual  selection 
will  also  be  largely  dominated  by  natural  selection  tending  toward 
the  general  welfare  of  the  species.  Hence  the  manner  in  which 
the  individuals  of  either  or  both  sexes  have  been  affected  through 
sexual  selection  cannot  fail  to  be  complex  in  the  highest  degree. 

When  variations  occur  late  in  life  in  one  sex  and  are  trans- 
mitted to  the  same  sex  at  the  same  age,  the  other  sex  and  the 
young  are  left  unmodified.  When  they  occur  late  in  life,  but  are 
transmitted  to  both  sexes  at  the  same  age,  the  young  alone  are 
left  unmodified.  Variations,  however,  may  occur  at  any  period 
of 'life  in  one  sex  or  in  both,  and  be  transmitted  to  both  sexes  at 
all  ages,  and  then  all  the  individuals  of  the  species  are  similarly 
modified.  In  the  following  chapters  it  will  be  seen  that  all  these 
cases  frequently  occur  in  nature. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       315 

Sexual  selection  can  never  act  on  any  animal  before  the  age  for 
reproduction  arrives.  From  the  great  eagerness  of  the  male  it 
has  generally  acted  on  this  sex  and  not  on  the  females.  The 
males  have  thus  become  provided  with  weapons  for  fighting  with 
their  rivals,  with  organs  for  discovering  and  securely  holding  the 
female,  and  for  exciting  or  charming  her.  When  the  sexes  differ 
in  these  respects  it  is  also,  as  we  have  seen,  an  extremely  general 
law  that  the  adult  male  differs  more  or  less  from  the  young  male ; 
and  we  may  conclude  from  this  fact  that  the  successive  variations 
by  which  the  adult  male  became  modified  did  not  generally  occur 
much  before  the  age  for  reproduction.  Whenever  some  or  many 
of  the  variations  occurred  early  in  life  the  young  males  would 
partake  more  or  less  of  the  characters  of  the  adult  males  ;  and 
differences  of  this  kind  between  the  old  and  young  males  may  be 
observed  in  many  species  of  animals. 

It  is  probable  that  young  male  animals  have  often  tended  to  vary 
in  a  manner  which  would  not  only  have  been  of  no  use  to  them  at 
an  early  age,  but  would  have  been  actually  injurious,  as  by  acquir- 
ing bright  colors,  which  would  render  them  conspicuous  to  their 
enemies,  or  by  acquiring  structures,  such  as  great  horns,  which 
would  expend  much  vital  force  in  their  development.  Variations 
of  this  kind  occurring  in  the  young  males  would  almost  certainly 
be  eliminated  through  natural  selection.  With  the  adult  and 
experienced  males,  on  the  other  hand,  the  advantages  derived 
from  the  acquisition  of  such  characters  would  more  than  coun- 
terbalance some  exposure  to  danger,  and  some  loss  of  vital  force. 

As  variations  which  give  to  the  male  a  better  chance  of  con- 
quering other  males,  or  of  finding,  securing,  or  charming  the 
opposite  sex,  would,  if  they  happened  to  arise  in  the  female,  be 
of  no  service  to  her,  they  would  not  be  preserved  in  her  through 
sexual  selection.  We  have  also  good  evidence  with  domesticated 
animals  that  variations  of  all  kinds  are,  if  not  carefully  selected, 
soon  lost  through  intercrossing  and  accidental  deaths.  Conse- 
quently in  a  state  of  nature,  if  variations  of  the  above  kind 
chanced  to  arise  in  the  female  line  and  to  be  transmitted  exclu- 
sively in  this  line,  they  would  be  extremely  liable  to  be  lost.  If, 
however,  the  females  varied  and  transmitted  their  newly  acquired 


316  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

characters  to  their  offspring  of  both  sexes,  the  characters  which 
were  advantageous  to  the  males  would  be  preserved  by  them 
through  sexual  selection,  and  the  two  sexes  would  in  consequence 
be  modified  in  the  same  manner,  although  such  characters  were 
of  no  use  to  the  females  ;  but  I  shall  hereafter  have  to  recur 
to  these  more  intricate  contingencies.  Lastly,  the  females  may 
acquire,  and  apparently  have  often  acquired  by  transference,  char- 
acters from  the  male  sex. 

As  variations  occurring  late  in  life  and  transmitted  to  one  sex 
alone  have  incessantly  been  taken  advantage  of  and  accumulated 
through  sexual  selection  in  relation  to  the  reproduction  of  the 
species,  therefore  it  appears,  at  first  sight,  an  unaccountable  fact 
that  similar  variations  have  not  frequently  been  accumulated 
through  natural  selection,  in  relation  to  the  ordinary  habits  of 
life.  If  this  had  occurred,  the  two  sexes  would  often  have  been 
differently  modified,  for  the  sake,  for  instance,  of  capturing  prey 
or  of  escaping  from  danger.  Differences  of  this  kind  between 
the  two  sexes  do  occasionally  occur,  especially  in  the  lower 
classes.  But  this  implies  that  the  two  sexes  follow  different 
habits  in  their  struggles  for  existence,  which  is  a  rare  circumstance 
with  the  higher  animals.  The  case,  however,  is  widely  different 
with  the  reproductive  functions,  in  which  respect  the  sexes  neces- 
sarily differ.  For  variations  in  structure  which  are  related  to 
these  functions  have  often  proved  of  value  to  one  sex,  and  from 
having  arisen  at  a  late  period  of  life  have  been  transmitted  to 
one  sex  alone ;  and  such  variations,  thus  preserved  and  trans- 
mitted, have  given  rise  to  secondary  sexual  characters. 

In  the  following  chapters  I  shall  treat  of  the  secondary  sexual 
characters  in  animals  of  all  classes.  The  lowest  classes  will 
detain  us  for  a  very  short  time,  but  the  higher  animals,  espe- 
cially birds,  must  be  treated  at  considerable  length.  I  intend  to 
give  only  a  few  illustrative  instances  of  the  innumerable  structures 
by  the  aid  of  which  the  male  finds  the  female,  or,  when  found, 
holds  her.  On  the  other  hand,  all  structures  and  instincts  by 
the  aid  of  which  the  male  conquers  other  males,  and  by  which  he 
allures  or  excites  the  female,  will  be  fully  discussed,  as  these  are 
in  many  ways  the  most  interesting. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       317 

SECONDARY  SEXUAL  CHARACTERS  OF  MAN 

With  mankind  the  differences  between  the  sexes  are  greater 
than  in  most  of  the  Quadrumana,  but  not  so  great  as  in  some, 
for  instance,  the  mandrill.  Man  on  an  average  is  considerably 
taller,  heavier,  and  stronger  than  woman,  with  squarer  shoulders 
and  more  plainly  pronounced  muscles.  Owing  to  the  relation 
which  exists  between  muscular  development  and  the  projection 
of  the  brows,1  the  superciliary  ridge  is  generally  more  marked  in 
man  than  in  woman.  His  body,  and  especially  his  face,  is  more 
hairy,  and  his  voice  has  a  different  and  more  powerful  tone. 
In  certain  races  the  women  are  said  to  differ  slightly  in  tint  from 
the  men.  For  instance,  Schweinfurth,  in  speaking  of  a  negress 
belonging  to  the  Mombuttus,  who  inhabit  the  interior  of  Africa, 
a  few  degrees  north  of  the  equator,  says,  "  Like  all  her  race,  she 
had  a  skin  several  shades  lighter  than  her  husband's,  being  some- 
thing of  the  color  of  half -roasted  coffee."  2  As  the  women  labor 
in  the  fields  and  are  quite  unclothed,  it  is  not  likely  that  they 
differ  in  color  from  the  men  owing  to  less  exposure  to  the 
weather.  European  women  are  perhaps  the  brighter  colored  of 
the  two  sexes,  as  may  be  seen  when  both  have  been  equally 
exposed. 

Man  is  more  courageous,  pugnacious,  and  energetic  than 
woman,  and  has  a  more  inventive  genius.  His  brain  is  abso- 
lutely larger,  but  whether  or  not  proportionately  to  his  larger  body 
has  not,  I  believe,  been  fully  ascertained.  In  woman  the  face  is 
rounder ;  the  jaws  and  the  base  of  the  skull  smaller ;  the  out- 
lines of  the  body  rounder,  in  parts  more  prominent ;  and  her 
pelvis  is  broader  than  in  man;3  but  this  latter  character  may  per- 
haps be  considered  rather  as  a  primary  than  a  secondary  sexual 
character.  She  comes  to  maturity  at  an  earlier  age  than  man.  ^ 

1  Schaaffhausen,  translation  in  Anthropological  Review,  October,  1868,  pp.  419, 
420,  427. 

2  The  Heart  of  Africa,  English  translation,  1873,  Vol.  I,  p.  544. 

8  Ecker,  translation  in  Anthropological  Review,  October,  1868,  pp.  351-356. 
The  comparison  of  the  form  of  the  skull  in  men  and  women  has  been  followed 
out  with  much  care  by  Welcker. 


3l8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

As  with  animals  of  all  classes,  so  with  man,  the  distinctive 
characters  of  the  male  sex  are  not  fully  developed  until  he 
is  nearly  mature ;  and  if  emasculated  they  never  appear.  The 
beard,  for  instance,  is  a  secondary  sexual  character,  and  male 
children  are  beardless,  though  at  an  early  age  they  have  abun- 
dant hair  on  the  head.  It  is  probably  due  to  the  rather  late 
appearance  in  life  of  the  successive  variations  whereby  man  has 
acquired  his  masculine  characters  that  they  are  transmitted  to 
the  male  sex  alone.  Male  and  female  children  resemble  each 
other  closely,  like  the  young  of  so  many  other  animals  in  which 
the  adult  sexes  differ  widely ;  they  likewise  resemble  the  mature 
female  much  more  closely  than  the  mature  male.  The  female, 
however,  ultimately  assumes  certain  distinctive  characters,  and 
in  the  formation  of  her  skull  is  said  to  be  intermediate  between 
the  child  and  the  man.1  Again,  as  the  young  of  closely  allied 
though  distinct  species  do  not  differ  nearly  so  much  from  each 
other  as  do  the  adults,  so  it  is  with  the  children  of  the  different 
races  of  man.  Some  have  even  maintained  that  race  differences 
cannot  be  detected  in  the  infantile  skull.2  In  regard  to  color,  the 
newborn  negro  child  is  reddish  nut-brown,  which  soon  becomes 
slaty  gray,  the  black  color  being  fully  developed  within  a  year 
in  the  Sudan,  but  not  until  three  years  in  Egypt.  The  eyes  of 
the  negro  are  at  first  blue,  and  the  hair  chestnut  brown  rather 
than  black,  being  curled  only  at  the  ends.  The  children  of  the 
Australians  immediately  after  birth  are  yellowish  brown,  and 
become  dark  at  a  later  age.  Those  of  the  Guaranys  of  Paraguay 
are  whitish  yellow,  but  they  acquire  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks 
the  yellowish  brown  tint  of  their  parents.  Similar  observations 
have  been  made  in  other  parts  of  America.3 

1Ecker  and  Welcker,  translation  in  Anthropological  Review,  October,  i863, 
PP-  352>  355 ;  Vogt,  Lectures  on  Man,  English  translation,  p.  81. 

2  Schaaffhausen,  Anthropological  Review,  October,  1868,  p.  429. 

8  Praner-Bey,  on  negro  infants,  as  quoted  by  Vogt,  Lectures  on  Man,  English 
translation,  1864,  p.  189;  for  further  facts  on  negro  infants,  as  quoted  from 
Winterbottom  and  Camper,  see  Lawrence,  Lectures  on  Physiology,  etc.,  1822, 
p.  451.  For  the  infants  of  the  Guaranys,  see  Rengger,  Saugethiere,  etc.,  s.  3.  See 
also  Godron,  De  1'Espece,  1859,  Tome  II,  p.  253.  For  the  Australians,  Waitz, 
Introduction  to  Anthropology,  English  translation,  1863,  p.  99. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       319 

I  have  specified  the  foregoing  differences  between  the  male 
and  female  sex  in  mankind  because  they  are  curiously  like  those 
of  the  Quadrumana.  With  these  animals  the  female  is  mature  at 
an  earlier  age  than  the  male  ;  at  least  this  is  certainly  the  case 
in  the  Cebus  azarae.1  The  males  of  most  species  are  larger  and 
stronger  than  the  females,  of  which  fact  the  gorilla  affords  a 
well-known  instance.  Even  in  so  trifling  a  character  as  the 
greater  prominence  of  the  superciliary  ridge,  the  males  of  cer- 
tain monkeys  differ  from  the  females,  and  agree  in  this  respect 
with  mankind.  In  the  gorilla  and  certain  other  monkeys  the 
cranium  of  the  adult  male  presents  a  strongly  marked  sagittal 
crest,  which  is  absent  in  the  female ; 2  and  Ecker  found  a  trace 
of  a  similar  difference  between  the  two  sexes  in  the  Austra- 
lians.3 With  monkeys  when  there  is  any  difference  in  the 
voice,  that  of  the  male  is  the  more  powerful.  We  have  seen  that 
certain  male  monkeys  have  a  well-developed  beard,  which  is 
quite  deficient,  or  much  less  developed,  in  the  female.  No 
instance  is  known  of  the  beard,  whiskers,  or  mustache  being 
larger  in  the  female  than  in  the  male  monkey.  Even  in  the 
color  of  the  beard  there  is  a  curious  parallelism  between  man 
and  the  Quadrumana,  for  with  man  when  the  beard  differs  in 
color  from  the  hair  of  the  head,  as  is  commonly  the  case,  it 'is, 
I  believe,  almost  always  of  a  lighter  tint,  being  often  reddish.  I 
have  repeatedly  observed  this  fact  in  England ;  but  two  gentle- 
men have  lately  written  to  me,  saying  that  they  form  an  excep- 
tion to  the  rule.  One  of  these  gentlemen  accounts  for  the  fact 
by  the  wide  difference  in  color  of  the  hair  on  the  paternal  and 
maternal  sides  of  his  family.  Both  had  been  long  aware  of  this 
peculiarity  (one  of  them  having  often  been  accused  of  dyeing  his 
beard)  and  had  been  thus  led  to  observe  other  men,  and  were 
convinced  that  the  exceptions  were  very  rare.  Dr.  Hooker 
attended  to  this  little  point  for  me  in  Russia,  and  found  no  ex- 
ception to  the  rule.  In  Calcutta  Mr.  J.  Scott,  of  the  Botanic 

1  Rengger,  Saugethiere,  etc.,  1830,  s.  49. 

2  As  in  Macacus  cynomolgus  (Desmarest,  Mammalogie,  p.  65),  and  in  Hylobates 
agilis  (Geoffroy  St.-Hilaire  and  F.  Cuvier,  Hist.  Nat.  des  Mamm.,  i824,Tome  I,  p.  2). 

3  Anthropological  Review,  October,  1868,  p.  353. 


320 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


Gardens,  was  so  kind  as  to  observe  the  many  races  of  men  to  be 
seen  there,  as  well  as  in  some  other  parts  of  India,  namely,  two 
races  in  Sikhim,  the  Bhoteas,  Hindus,  Burmese,  and  Chinese, 
most  of  which  races  have  very  little  hair  on  the  face,  and  he 
always  found  that  when  there  was  any  difference  in  color  between 
the  hair  of  the  head  and  the  beard,  the  latter  was  invariably 
lighter.  Now  with  monkeys,  as  has  already  been  stated,  the 
beard  frequently  differs  strikingly  in  color  from  the  hair  of  the 
head,  and  in  such  cases  it  is  always  of  a  lighter  hue,  being  often 
pure  white,  sometimes  yellow  or  reddish.1 

In  regard  to  the  general  hairiness  of  the  body,  the  women  in 
all  races  are  less  hairy  than  the  men,  and  in  some  few  Quadru- 
mana  the  under  side  of  the  body  of  the  female  is  less  hairy  than 
that  of  the  male.2  Lastly,  male  monkeys,  like  men,'  are  bolder 
and  fiercer  than  the  females.  They  lead  the  troop,  and  when 
there  is  danger  come  to  the  front.  We  thus  see  how  close  is 
the  parallelism  between  the  sexual  differences  of  man  and  the 
Quadrumana.  With  some  few  species,  however,  as  with  certain 
baboons,  the  orang,  and  the  gorilla,  there  is  a  considerably 
greater  difference  between  the  sexes,  as  in  the  size  of  the 
canine  teeth,  in  the  development  and  color  of  the  hair,  and 
especially  in  the  color  of  the  naked  parts  of  the  skin,  than  in 
mankind. 

All  the  secondary  sexual  characters  of  man  are  highly  variable, 
even  within  the  limits  of  the  same  race  ;  and  they  differ  much  in 
the  several  races.  These  two  rules  hold  good  generally  through- 
out the  animal  kingdom.  In  the  excellent  observations  made  on 

1  Mr.   Blyth  informs  me  that  he  has  only  seen   one  instance  of  the  beard, 
•whiskers,  etc.,  in  a  monkey  becoming  white  with  old  age,  as  is  so  commonly  the 
case  with  us.    This,   however,    occurred  in  an  aged  Macacus  cynomolgus,  kept 
in   confinement,    whose    mustaches   were    "  remarkably    long   and    humanlike." 
Altogether  this  old  monkey  presented  a  ludicrous  resemblance   to  one  of  the 
reigning  monarchs  of  Europe,  after  whom  he  was   universally  nicknamed.    In 
certain  races  of  man  the  hair  on  the  head  hardly  ever  becomes  gray ;  thus  Mr. 
D.  Forbes  has  never,  as  he  informs  me,  seen  an  instance  with  the  Aymaras  and 
Quichuas  of  South  America. 

2  This   is  the  case  with   the  females  of  several  species  of   Hylobates  ;   see 
Geoffrey  St.-Hilaire  and  F.  Cuvier,  Hist.  Nat.  des  Mamm.,  Tome  I.    See  also  on 
H.  tar,  Penny  Cyclopedia,  Vol.  II,    pp.  149,  150. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN 


321 


board  the  Novara,1  the  male  Australians  were  found  ta  exceed  the 
females  by  only  sixty-five  millimeters  in  height,  while  with  the 
Javans  the  average  excess  was  two  hundred  and  eighteen  millime- 
ters ;  so  that  in  this  latter  race  the  difference  in  height  between 
the  sexes  is  more  than  thrice  as  great  as  with  the  Australians. 
Numerous  measurements  were  carefully  made  of  the  stature,  the 
circumference  of  the  neck  and  chest,  the  length  of  the  backbone 
and  of  the  arms  in  various  races,  and  nearly  all  these  measure- 
ments show  that  the  males  differ  much  more  from  one  another 
than  do  the  females.  This  fact  indicates  that,  as  far  as  these 
characters  are  concerned,  it  is  the  male  which  has  been  chiefly 
modified,  since  the  several  races  diverged  from  their  common 
stock. 

The  development  of  the  beard  and  the  hairiness  of  the  body 
differ  remarkably  in  the  men  of  distinct  races,  and  even  in  dif- 
ferent tribes  or  families  of  the  same  race.  We  Europeans  see 
this  among  ourselves.  In  the  Island  of  St.  Kilda,  according  to 
Martin,2  the  men  do  not  acquire  beards  until  the  age  of  thirty  or 
upward,  and  even  then  the  beards  are  very  thin.  On  the  Euro- 
pseo-Asiatic  continent  beards  prevail  until  we  pass  beyond  India, 
though  with  the  natives  of  Ceylon  they  are  often  absent,  as  was 
noticed  in  ancient  times  by  Diodorus.3  Eastward  of  India  beards 
disappear,  as  with  the  Siamese,  Malays,  Kalmucks,  Chinese,  and 
Japanese  ;  nevertheless  the  Ainos,4  who  inhabit  the  northernmost 
islands  of  the  Japan  Archipelago,  are  the  hairiest  men  in  the 
world.  With  negroes  the  beard  is  scanty  or  wanting,  and  they 
rarely  haVe  whiskers  ;  in  both  sexes  the  body  is  frequently  almost 
destitute  of  fine  down.5  On  the  other  hand,  the  Papuans  of  the 
Malay  Archipelago,  who  are  nearly  as  black  as  negroes,  possess 

1  The  results  were  deduced  by  Dr.  Weisbach  from  the  measurements  made  by 
Drs.  K.  Scherzer  and  Schwarz.    See  Reise  der  Novara :    "Anthropolog.  Theil," 
1867,  ss.  216,  231,  234,  236,  239,  269. 

2  Voyage  to  St.  Kilda,  3d  ed.,  1753,  p.  37. 

3  Sir  J.  E.  Tennent,  Ceylon,  1859,  Vol.  II,  p.  107. 

4  Quatrefages,  Revue  des  Cours  Scientifiques ,   August  29,  1868,  p.  630;  Vogt, 
Lectures  on  Man,  English  translation,  p.  127. 

6  On  the  beards  of  negroes,  see  Vogt,  Lectures,  etc.,  p.  127.  Waitz,  Introduction 
to  Anthropology,  English  translation,  1863,  Vol.  I,  p.  96.  It  is  remarkable  that  in 
the  United  States  (Investigations  in  Military  and  Anthropological  Statistics  of 


322  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

well-developed  beards.  In  the  Pacific  Ocean  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Fiji  Archipelago  have  large  bushy  beards,  while  those  of  the 
not  distant  archipelagoes  of  Tonga  and  Samoa  are  beardless  ;  but 
these  men  belong  to  distinct  races.  In  the  Ellice  group  all  the  in- 
habitants belong  to  the  same  race  ;  yet  on  one  island  alone,  namely, 
Nunemaya,  "the  men  have  splendid  beards,"  while  on  the  other 
islands  "they  have,  as  a  rule,  a  dozen  straggling  hairs  for  a  beard."  1 
Throughout  the  great  American  continent  the  men  may  be 
said  to  be  beardless ;  but  in  almost  all  the  tribes  a  few  short 
hairs  are  apt  to  be  on  the  face,  especially  in  old  age.  With  the 
tribes  of  North  America,  Catlin  estimates  that  eighteen  out  of 
twenty  men  are  completely  destitute  by  nature  of  a  beard ;  but 
occasionally  there  may  be  seen  a  man,  who  has  neglected  to  pluck 
out  the  hairs  at  puberty,  with  a  soft  beard  an  inch  or  two  in 
length.  The  Guaranys  of  Paraguay  differ  from  all  the  surround- 
ing tribes  in  having  a  small  beard,  and  even  some  hair  on  the 
body,  but  no  whiskers.2  I  am  informed  by  Mr.  D.  Forbes,  who 
particularly  attended  to  this  point,  that  the  Aymaras  and  Qui- 
chuas  of  the  Cordillera  are  remarkably  hairless,  yet  in  old  age  a 
few  straggling  hairs  occasionally  appear  on  the  chin.  The  men  of 
these  two  tribes  have  very  little  hair  on  the  various  parts  of  the 
body  where  hair  grows  abundantly  in  Europeans,  and  the  women 
have  none  on  the  corresponding  parts.  The  hair  on  the  head, 
however,  attains  an  extraordinary  length  in  both  sexes,  often 
reaching  almost  to  the  ground ;  and  this  is  likewise  the  case  with 
some  of  the  North  American  tribes.  In  the  amount  of  hair  and 
in  the  general  shape  of  the  body  the  sexes  of  the 'American 
aborigines  do  not  differ  so  much  from  each  other  as  in  most 
other  races.3  This  fact  is  analogous  with  what  occurs  with  some 

American  Soldiers,  1869,  p.  569)  the  pure  negroes  and  their  crossed  offspring 
seem  to  have  bodies  almost  as  hairy  as  Europeans. 

1  Dr.  J.  Barnard  Davis,  "  On  Oceanic  Races,"  in  Anthropological  Review,  April, 
1870,  pp.  185,  191. 

2  Catlin,  North  American  Indians,  3d  ed.,  1842,  Vol.  II,  p.  227.    On  the  Guar- 
anys, see  Azara,  Voyages  dans  I'Amerique  Merid.,  1809,  Tome  II,  p.  58;    also 
Rengger,  Saugethiere  von  Paraguay,  s.  3. 

8  Professor  and  Mrs.  Agassiz  (Journey  in  Brazil,  p.  530)  remark  that  the  sexes 
of  the  American  Indians  differ  less  than  those  of  the  negroes  and  of  the  higher 
races.  See  also  Rengger,  ibid.,  p.  3,  on  the  Guaranys. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       323 

jf 

closely  allied  monkeys  ;  thus  the  sexes  of  the  chimpanzee  are  not 
as  different  as  those  of  the  orang  or  gorilla.1 

In  the  previous  chapters  we  have  seen  that  with  mammals, 
birds,  fishes,  insects,  etc.,  many  characters,  which  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  were  primarily  gained  through  sexual  selection 
by  one  sex,  have  been  transferred  to  the  other.  As  this  same 
form  of  transmission  has  apparently  prevailed  much  with  man- 
kind, it  will  save  useless  repetition  if  we  discuss  the  origin  of 
characters  peculiar  to  the  male  sex  together  with  certain  other 
characters  common  to  both  sexes. 

Law  of  Battle 

With  savages,  for  instance,  the  Australians,  the  women  are  the 
constant  cause  of  war  both  between  members  of  the  same  tribe 
and  between  distinct  tribes.  So  no  doubt  it  was  in  ancient  times  ; 
"nam  fuit  ante  Helenam  mulier  teterrima  belli  causa."  With 
some  of  the  North  American  Indians,  the  contest  is  reduced  to 
a  system.  That  excellent  observer,  Hearne,2  says  :  "  It  has  ever 
been  the  custom  among  these  people  for  the  men  to  wrestle  for 
any  woman  to  whom  they  are  attached ;  and,  of  course,  the 
strongest  party  always  carries  off  the  prize.  A  weak  man,  unless 
he  be  a  good  hunter,  and  well  beloved,  is  seldom  permitted  to 
keep  a  wife  that  a  stronger  man  thinks  worth  his  notice.  This 
custom  prevails  throughout  all  the  tribes,  and  causes  a  great 
spirit  of  emulation  among  their  youth,  who  are  upon  all  occasions, 
from  their  childhood,  trying  their  strength  and  skill  in  wrestling." 
With  the  Guanas  of  South  America,  Azara  states  that  the  men 
rarely  marry  till  twenty  years  old  or  more,  as  before  that  age 
they  cannot  conquer  their  rivals. 

Other  similar  facts  could  be  given ;  but  even  if  we  had  no 
evidence  on  this  head,  we  might  feel  almost  sure,  from  the 

1  Riitimeyer,  Die  Grenzen  der  Thierwelt ;  eine  Betrachtung  zu  Darwin's  Lehre, 
1868,  s.  54. 

2  A  Journey  from  Prince  of  Wales  Fort,  8vo,  edit.  Dublin,  1796,  p.  104.    Sir 
J.  Lubbock  (Origin  of  Civilization,  1870,  p.  69)  gives  other  and  similar  cases  in 
North  America.    For  the  Guanas  of  South  America,  see  Azara,  Voyages    etc., 
Tome  II,  p.  94. 


324  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

analogy  of  the  higher  Quadrumana,1  that  the  law  of  battle  had 
prevailed  with  man  during  the  early  stages  of  his  development. 
The  occasional  appearance  at  the  present  day  of  canine  teeth 
which  project  above  the  others,  with  traces  of  a  diastema,  or  open 
space  for  the  reception  of  the  opposite  canines,  is  in  all  proba- 
bility a  case  of  reversion  to  a  former  state,  when  the  progenitors 
of  man  were  provided  with  these  weapons,  like  so  many  existing 
male  Quadrumana.  It  was  remarked  in  a  former  chapter  that  as 
man  gradually  became  erect,  and  continually  used  his  hands  and 
arms  for  fighting  with  sticks  and  stones,  as  well  as  for  the  other 
purposes  of  life,  he  would  have  used  his  jaws  and  teeth  less  and 
less.  The  jaws,  together  with  their  muscles,  would  then  have  been 
reduced  through  disuse,  as  would  the  teeth  through  the  not  well- 
understood  principles  of  correlation  and  economy  of  growth ; 
for  we  everywhere  see  that  parts,  which  are  no  longer  of  service, 
are  reduced  in  size.  By  such  steps  the  original  inequality  between 
the  jaws  and  teeth  in  the  two  sexes  of  mankind  would  ultimately 
have  been  obliterated.  The  case  is  almost  parallel  with  that  of 
many  male  Ruminants,  in  which  the  canine  teeth  have  been 
reduced  to  mere  rudiments,  or  have  disappeared,  apparently  in 
consequence  of  the  development  of  horns.  As  the  prodigious 
difference  between  the  skulls  of  the  two  sexes  in  the  orang  and 
gorilla  stands  in  close  relation  with  the  development  of  the 
immense  canine  teeth  in  the  males,  we  may  infer  that  the  reduc- 
tion of  the  jaws  and  teeth  in  the  early  male  progenitors  of  man 
must  have  led  to  a  most  striking  and  favorable  change  in  his 
appearance. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  greater  size  and  strength 
of  man,  in  comparison  with  woman,  together  with  his  broader 
shoulders,  more  developed  muscles,  rugged  outline  of  body,  his 
greater  courage  and  pugnacity,  are  all  due  in  chief  part  to  in- 
heritance from  his  half-human  male  ancestors.  These  characters 
would,  however,  have  been  preserved,  or  even  augmented  during 
the  long  ages  of  man's  savagery,  by  the  success  of  the  strongest 

1  On  the  fighting  of  the  male  gorillas,  see  Dr.  Savage,  in  Boston  Journal  of 
Natural  History,  1847,  Vol.  V,  p.  423.  On  Presbytis  entellus,  see  the  Indian 
Field,  1859,  p.  146. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       325 

and  boldest  men,  both  in  the  general  struggle  for  life  and  in 
their  contests  for  wives,  a  success  which  would  have  insured  their 
leaving  a  more  numerous  progeny  than  their  less  favored  breth- 
ren. It  is  not  probable  that  the  greater  strength  of  man  was 
primarily  acquired  through  the  inherited  effects  of  his  having 
worked  harder  than  woman  for  his  own  subsistence  and  that  of 
his  family  ;  for  the  women  in  all  barbarous  nations  are  compelled 
to  work  at  least  as  hard  as  the  men.  With  civilized  people  the 
arbitrament  of  battle  for  the  possession  of  the  women  has  long 
ceased  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  men,  as  a  general  rule,  have  to 
work  harder  than  the  women  for  their  joint  subsistence,  and  thus 
their  greater  strength  will  have  been  kept  up. 

Difference  in  the  Mental  Powers  of  the  Two  Sexes 

With  respect  to  differences  of  this  nature  between  man  and 
woman,  it  is  probable  that  sexual  selection  has  played  a  highly 
important  part.  I  am  aware  that  some  writers  doubt  whether 
there  is  any  such  inherent  difference ;  but  this  is  at  least  prob- 
able from  the  analogy  of  the  lower  animals  which  present  other 
secondary  sexual  characters.  No  one  disputes  that  the  bull 
differs  in  disposition  from  the  cow,  the  wild  boar  from  the  sow, 
the  stallion  from  the  mare,  and,  as  is  well  known  to  the  keepers 
of  menageries,  the  males  of  the  larger  apes  from  the  females. 
Woman  seems  to  differ  from  man  in  mental  disposition,  chiefly 
in  her  greater  tenderness  and  less  selfishness  ;  and  this  holds 
good  even  with  savages,  as  shown  by  a  well-known  passage  in 
Mungo  Park's  Travels,  and  by  statements  made  by  many  other 
travelers.  Woman,  owing  to  her  maternal  instincts,  displays 
these  qualities  towards  her  infants  in  an  eminent  degree  ;  there- 
fore it  is  likely  that  she  would  often  extend  them  towards  her 
fellow-creatures.  Man  is  the  rival  of  other  men  ;  he  delights  in 
competition,  and  this  leads  to  ambition,  which  passes  too  easily 
into  selfishness.  These  latter  qualities  seem  to  be  his  natural 
and  unfortunate  birthright.  It  is  generally  admitted  that  with 
woman  the  powers  of  intuition,  of  rapid  perception,  and  perhaps 
of  imitation  are  more  strongly  marked  than  in  man ;  but  some, 


326  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

at  least,  of  these  faculties  are  characteristic  of  the  lower  races, 
and  therefore  of  a  past  and  lower  state  of  civilization. 

The  chief  distinction  in  the  intellectual  powers  of  the  two 
sexes  is  shown  by  man's  attaining  to  a  higher  eminence,  in  what- 
ever he  takes  up,  than  can  woman  —  whether  requiring  deep 
thought,  reason,  or  imagination,  or  merely  the  use  of  the  senses 
and  hands.  If  two  lists  were  made  of  the  most  eminent  men 
and  women  in  poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  music  (inclusive  both 
of  composition  and  performance),  history,  science,  and  philosophy, 
with  half  a  dozen  names  under  each  subject,  the  two  lists  would 
not  bear  comparison.  We  may  also  infer,  from  the  law  of  the 
deviation  from  averages,  so  well  illustrated  by  Mr.  Galton,  in 
his  work  on  Hereditary  Genius,  that  if  men  are  capable  of  a 
decided  preeminence  over  women  in  many  subjects,  the  average 
of  mental  power  in  man  must  be  above  that  of  woman. 

Among  the  half-human  progenitors  of  man,  and  among  sav- 
ages, there  have  been  struggles  between  the  males  during  many 
generations  for  the  possession  of  the  females.  But  mere  bodily 
strength  and  size  would  do  little  for  victory,  unless  associated 
with  courage,  perseverance,  and  determined  energy.  With  social 
animals,  the  young  males  have  to  pass  through  many  a  contest 
before  they  win  a  female,  and  the  older  males  have  to  retain 
their  females  by  renewed  battles.  They  have,  also,  as  in  the  case 
of  mankind,  to  defend  their  females,  as  well  as  their  young,  from 
enemies  of  all  kinds,  and  to  hunt  for  their  joint  subsistence.  But 
to  avoid  enemies  or  to  attack  them  with  success,  to  capture  wild 
animals,  and  to  fashion  weapons  require  the  aid  of  the  higher 
mental  faculties,  namely,  observation,  reason,  invention,  or  imagi- 
nation. These  various  faculties  will  thus  have  been  continually  put 
to  the  test  and  selected  during  manhood  ;  they  will,  moreover, 
have  been  strengthened  by  use  during  this  same  period  of  life. 
Consequently,  in  accordance  with  the  principle  often  alluded  to,  we 
might  expect  that  they  would  at  least  tend  to  be  transmitted  chiefly 
to  the  male  offspring  at  the  corresponding  period  of  manhood. 

Now  when  two  men  are  put  into  competition,  or  a  man 
with  a  woman,  both  possessed  of  every  mental  quality  in  equal 
perfection,  save  that  one  has  higher  energy,  perseverance,  and 


ASEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       327 

courage,  the  latter  will  generally  become  more  eminent  in  every 
pursuit,  and  will  gain  the  ascendancy.1  He  may  be  said  to  possess 
genius,  for  genius  has  been  declared  by  a  great  authority  to 
be  patience ;  and  patience,  in  this  sense,  means  unflinching, 
undaunted  perseverance.  But  this  view  of  genius  is  perhaps 
deficient ;  for  without  the  higher  powers  of  the  imagination  and 
reason,  no  eminent  success  can  be  gained  in  many  subjects. 
These  latter  faculties,  as  well  as  the  former,  will  have  been 
developed  in  man,  partly  through  sexual  selection,  —  that  is, 
through  the  contest  of  rival  males,  and  partly  through  natural 
selection,  —  that  is,  from  success  in  the  general  struggle  for  life  ; 
and  as  in  both  cases  the  struggle  will  have  been  during  maturity, 
the  characters  gained  will  have  been  transmitted  more  fully  to 
the  male  than  to  the  female  offspring.  It  accords  in  a  striking 
manner  with  this  view  of  the  modification  and  reinforcement  of 
many  of  our  mental  faculties  by  sexual  selection,  that,  firstly, 
they  notoriously  undergo  a  considerable  change  at  puberty,2  and, 
secondly,  that  eunuchs  remain  throughout  life  inferior  in  these 
same  qualities.  Thus  man  has  ultimately  become  superior  to 
woman.  It  is,  indeed,  fortunate  that  the  law  of  the  equal  trans- 
mission of  characters  to  both  sexes  prevails  with  mammals  ;  other- 
wise it  is  probable  that  man  would  have  become  as  superior  in 
mental  endowment  to  woman  as  the  peacock  is  in  ornamental 
plumage  to  the  peahen. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  tendency  in  characters 
acquired  by  either  sex  late  in  life  to  be  transmitted  to  the  same 
sex  at  the  same  age,  and  of  early  acquired  characters  to  be  trans- 
mitted to  both  sexes,  are  rules  which,  though  general,  do  not 
always  hold.  If  they  always  held  good,  we  might  conclude  (but 
I  here  exceed  my  proper  bounds)  that  the  inherited  effects  of  the 
early  education  of  boys  and  girls  would  be  transmitted  equally 
to  both  sexes,  so  that  the  present  inequality  in  mental  power 

1  J.  Stuart  Mill  remarks  (The  Subjection  of  Women,   1869,  p.   122),  "The 
things  in  which  man  most  excels  woman  are  those  which  require  most  plodding, 
and  long  hammering  at  single  thoughts."   What  is  this  but  energy  and  perse- 
verance ? 

2  Maudsley,  Mind  and  Body,  p.  31. 


328  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

between  the  sexes  would  not  be  effaced  by  a  similar  course  of 
early  training ;  nor  can  it  have  been  caused  by  their  dissimilar 
early  training.  In  order  that  woman  should  reach  the  same 
standard  as  man,  she  ought,  when  nearly  adult,  to  be  trained  to 
energy  and  perseverance,  and  to  have  her  reason  and  imagi- 
nation exercised  to  the  highest  point ;  and  then  she  would  prob- 
ably transmit  these  qualities  chiefly  to  her  adult  daughters.  All 
women,  however,  could  not  be  thus  raised,  unless  during  many 
generations  those  who  excelled  in  the  above  robust  virtues  were 
married,  and  produced  offspring  in  larger  numbers  than  other 
women.  As  before  remarked  of  bodily  strength,  although  men 
do  not  now  fight  for  their  wives,  and  this  form  of  selection 
has  passed  away,  yet  during  manhood  they  generally  undergo 
a  severe  struggle  in  order  to  maintain  themselves  and  their 
families;  and  this  will  tend  to  keep  up  or  even  increase  their 
mental  powers,  and,  as  a  consequence,  the  present  inequality 
between  the  sexes.1 

Voice  and  Musical  Powers 

In  some  species  of  Quadrumana  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  the  adult  sexes,  —  in  the  power  of  their  voices  and  in 
the  development  of  the  vocal  organs  ;  and  man  appears  to  have 
inherited  this  difference  from  his  early  progenitors.  His  vocal 
cords  are  about  one  third  longer  than  in  woman,  or  than  in  boys  ; 
and  emasculation  produces  the  same  effect  on  him  as  on  the 
lower  animals,  for  it  "  arrests  that  prominent  growth  of  the  thy- 
roid, etc.,  which  accompanies  the  elongation  of  the  cords."  2  With 
respect  to  the  cause  of  this  difference  between  the  sexes,  I  have 
nothing  to  add  to  the  remarks  in  the  last  chapter  on  the  probable 
effects  of  the  long-continued  use  of  the  vocal  organs  by  the  male 

1  An  observation  by  Vogt  bears  on  this  subject.    He  says,  "  It  is  a  remarkable 
circumstance  that  the  difference  between  the  sexes,  as  regards  the  cranial  cavity, 
increases  with  the  development  of  the  race,  so  that  the  male  European  excels 
much  more  the  female  than  the  negro  the  negress.    Welcker  confirms  this  state- 
ment of   Huschke  from  his  measurements  of  negro  and  German  skulls."    But 
Vogt  admits   (Lectures    on    Man,   English    translation,    1864,  p.  81)   that  more 
observations  are  requisite  on  this  point. 

2  Owen,  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  603. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       329 

under  the  excitement  of  love,  rage,  and  jealousy.  According  to 
Sir  Duncan  Gibb,1  the  voice  and  the  form  of  the  larynx  differ  in 
the  different  races  of  mankind  ;  but  with  the  Tartars,  Chinese, 
etc.,  the  voice  of  the  male  is  said  not  to  differ  so  much  from  that 
of  the  female  as  in  most  other  races. 

The  capacity  and  love  for  singing  or  music,  though  not  a  sexual 
character  in  man,  must  not  here  be  passed  over.  Although  the 
sounds  emitted  by  animals  of  all  kinds  serve  many  purposes, 
a  strong  case  can  be  made  out,  that  the  vocal  organs  were  pri- 
marily used  and  perfected  in  relation  to  the  propagation  of  the 
species.  Insects  and  some  few  spiders  are  the  lowest  animals 
which  voluntarily  produce  any  sound ;  and  this  is  generally 
effected  by  the  aid  of  beautifully  constructed  stridulating  organs, 
which  are  often  confined  to  the  males.  The  sounds  thus  pro- 
duced consist,  I  believe  in  all  cases,  of  the  same  note  repeated 
rhythmically  ; 2  and  this  is  sometimes  pleasing  even  to  the  ears 
of  man.  The  chief  and,  in  some  cases,  exclusive  purpose  appears 
to  be  either  to  call  or  charm  the  opposite  sex. 

The  sounds  produced  by  fishes  are  said  in  some  cases  to  be 
made  only  by  the  males  during  the  breeding  season.  All  the 
air-breathing  Vertebrata  necessarily  possess  an  apparatus  for 
inhaling  and  expelling  air,  with  a  pipe  capable  of  being  closed  at 
one  end.  Hence  when  the  primeval  members  of  this  class  were 
strongly  excited  and  their  muscles  violently  contracted,  purpose- 
less sounds  would  almost  certainly  have  been  produced  ;  and 
these,  if  they  proved  in  any  way  serviceable,  might  readily  have 
been  modified  or  intensified  by  the  preservation  of  properly 
adapted  variations.  The  lowest  Vertebrates  which  breathe  air 
are  Amphibians  ;  and'  of  these,  frogs  and  toads  possess  vocal 
organs,  which  are  incessantly  used  during  the  breeding  season, 
and  which  are  more  often  highly  developed  in  the  male  than  in 
the  female.  The  male  alone  of  the  tortoise  utters  a  noise,  and 
this  only  during  the  season  of  love.  Male  alligators  roar  or  bel- 
low during  the  same  season.  Every  one  knows  how  much  birds 

1  Journal  of  'the  Anthropological  Society,  April,  1869,  pp.  Ivii,  Ixvi. 

2  Dr.  Scudder,  "  Notes  on  Stridulation,"  in  Proceedings  Boston  Society  of  Nat- 
ural History,  April,  1868,  Vol.  XI. 


330  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

use  their  vocal  organs  as  a  means  of  courtship  ;  and  some  species 
likewise  perform  what  may  be  called  instrumental  music. 

In  the  class  of  mammals,  with  which  we  are  here  more  par- 
ticularly concerned,  the  males  of  almost  all  the  species  use  their 
voices  during  the  breeding  season  much  more  than  at  any  other 
time  ;  and  some  are  absolutely  mute  excepting  at  this  season. 
With  other  species  both  sexes,  or  only  the  females,  use  their 
voices  as  a  love  call.  Considering  these  facts,  and  that  the  vocal 
organs  of  some  quadrupeds  are  much  more  largely  developed  in 
the  male  than  in  the  female,  either  permanently  or  temporarily 
during  the  breeding  season  ;  and  considering  that  in  most  of  the 
lower  classes  the  sounds  produced  by  the  males  serve  not  only  to 
call  but  to  excite  or  allure  the  female, — it  is  a  surprising  fact  that 
we  have  not  as  yet  any  good  evidence  that  these  organs  are  used 
by  male  mammals  to  charm  the  females.  The  American  Mycetes 
caraya  perhaps  forms  an  exception,  as  does  the  Hylobates  agilis, 
an  ape  allied  to  man.  This  gibbon  has  an  extremely  loud  but 
musical  voice.  Mr.  Waterhouse  states  :J  "It  appeared  to  me  that 
in  ascending  and  descending  the  scale  the  intervals  were  always 
exactly  half-tones  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  the  highest  note  was  the 
exact  octave  to  the  lowest.  The  quality  of  the  notes  is  very 
musical ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  a  good  violinist  would  be  able 
to  give  a  correct  idea  of  the  gibbon's  composition,  excepting  as 
regards  its  loudness."  Mr.  Waterhouse  then  gives  the  notes. 
Professor  Owen,  who  is  a  musician,  confirms  the  foregoing  state- 
ment, and  remarks,  though  erroneously,  that  this  gibbon  "  alone 
of  brute  mammals  may  be  said  to  sing."  It  appears  to  be  much 
excited  after  its  performance.  Unfortunately,  its  habits  have 
never  been  closely  observed  in  a  state  of  nature  ;  but  from  the 
analogy  of  other  animals,  it  is  probable  that  it  uses  its  musical 
powers  more  especially  during  the  season  of  courtship. 

This  gibbon  is  not  the  only  species  in  the  genus  which  sings, 
for  my  son,  Francis  Darwin,  attentively  listened  in  the  Zoological 
Gardens  to  H.  leuciscus  while  singing  a  cadence  of  three  notes, 

1  Given  in  W.  C.  L.  Martin's  General  Introduction  to  Natural  History  of 
Mammalian  Animals,  1841,  p.  432;  Owen,  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates,  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  600. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       331 

in  true  musical  intervals  and  with  a  clear  musical  tone.  It  is  a 
more  surprising  fact  that  certain  rodents  utter  musical  sounds. 
Singing  mice  have  often  been  mentioned  and  exhibited,  but 
imposture  has  commonly  been  suspected.  We  have,  however,  at 
last  a  clear  account  by  a  well-known  observer,  the  Rev.  S.  Lock- 
wood,1  of  the  musical  powers  of  an  American  species,  the  Hesper- 
omys  cognatus,  belonging  to  a  genus  distinct  from  that  of  the 
English  mouse.  This  little  animal  was  kept  in  confinement,  and 
the  performance  was  repeatedly  heard.  In  one  of  the  two  chief 
songs,  "the  last  bar  would  frequently  be  prolonged  to  two  or 
three  ;  and  she  would  sometimes  change  from  C  sharp  and  D  to 
C  natural  and  D,  then  warble  on  these  two  notes  awhile,  and 
wind  up  with  a  quick  chirp  on  C  sharp  and  D.  The  distinctness 
between  the  semitones  was  very  marked,  and  easily  appreciable 
to  a  good  ear."  Mr.  Lockwood  gives  both  songs  in  musical  nota- 
tion, and  adds  that  though  this  little  mouse  "had  no  ear  for 
time,  yet  she  would  keep  to  the  key  of  B  (two  flats)  and  strictly 
in  a  major  key.  ...  Her  soft  clear  voice  falls  an  octave  with 
all  the  precision  possible  ;  then  at  the  wind  up  it  rises  again  into 
a  very  quick  trill  on  C  sharp  and  D." 

A  critic  has  asked  how  the  ears  of  man,  and  he  ought  to  have 
added  of  other  animals,  could  have  been  adapted  by  selection  so 
as  to  distinguish  musical  notes.  But  this  question  shows  some 
confusion  on  the  subject ;  a  noise  is  the  sensation  resulting  from 
the  coexistence  of  several  aerial  "  simple  vibrations  "  of  various 
periods,  each  of  which  intermits  so  frequently  that  its  separate 
existence  cannot  be  perceived.  It  is  only  in  the  want  of  continu- 
ity of  such  vibrations,  and  in  their  want  of  harmony  inter  se,  that 
a  noise  differs  from  a  musical  note.  Thus  an  ear  to  be  capable 
of  discriminating  noises  —  and  the  high  importance  of  this  power 
to  all  animals  is  admitted  by  every  one  —  must  be  sensitive  to 
musical  notes.  We  have  evidence  of  this  capacity  even  low  down 
in  the  animal  scale  ;  thus  Crustaceans  are  provided  with  auditory 
hairs  of  different  lengths,  which  have  been  seen  to  vibrate  when 
the  proper  musical  notes  are  struck.2  As  stated  in  a  previous 

1  The  American  Naturalist,  1871,  p.  761. 

2  Helmholtz,  Theorie  Phys.  de  la  Musique,  1868,  p.  187. 


332  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

chapter,  similar  observations  have  been  made  on  the  hairs  of 
the  antennae  of  gnats.  It  has  been  positively  asserted  by  good 
observers  that  spiders  are  attracted  by  music.  It  is  also  well 
known  that  some  dogs  howl  when  hearing  particular  tones.1 
Seals  apparently  appreciate  music,  and  their  fondness  for  it  "  was 
well  known  to  the  ancients,  and  is  often  taken  advantage  of  by 
the  hunters  at  the  present  day."  2 

Therefore,  as  far  as  the  mere  perception  of  musical  notes  is 
concerned,  there  seems  no  special  difficulty  in  the  case  of  man 
or  of  any  other  animal.  Helmholtz  has  explained  on  physiologi- 
cal principles  why  concords  are  agreeable,  and  discords  disagree- 
able, to  the  human  ear  ;  but  we  are  little  concerned  with  these, 
as  music  in  harmony  is  a  late  invention.  We  are  more  concerned 
with  melody,  and  here  again,  according  to  Helmholtz,  it  is  intel- 
ligible why  the  notes  of  our  musical  scale  are  used.  The  ear 
analyzes  all  sounds  into  their  component  "simple  vibrations," 
although  we  are  not  conscious  of  this  analysis.  In  a  musical  note 
the  lowest  in  pitch  of  these  is  generally  predominant,  and  the 
others,  which  are  less  marked,  are  the  octave,  the  twelfth,  the 
second  octave,  etc.,  all  harmonies  of  the  fundamental  predomi- 
nant note ;  any  two  notes  of  our  scale  have  many  of  these  har- 
monic overtones  in  common.  It  seems  pretty  clear,  then,  that  if 
an  animal  always  wished  to  sing  precisely  the  same  song,  he 
would  guide  himself  by  sounding  those  notes  in  succession  which 
possess  many  overtones  in  common,  —  that  is,  he  would  choose 
for  his  song  notes  which  belong  to  our  musical  scale. 

But  if  it  be  further  asked  why  musical  tones  in  a  certain  order 
and  rhythm  give  man  and  other  animals  pleasure,  we  can  no 
more  give  the  reason  than  for  the  pleasantness  of  certain  tastes 
and  smells.  That  they  do  give  pleasure  of  some  kind  to  animals 
we  may  infer  from  their  being  produced  during  the  season  of 
courtship  by  many  insects,  spiders,  fishes,  amphibians,  and  birds  ; 

1  Several  accounts  have  been  published  to  this  effect.    Mr.  Peach  writes  to  me 
that  he  has  repeatedly  found  that  an  old  dog  of  his  howls  when  B  flat  is  sounded 
on  the  flute,  and  to  no  other  note.    I  may  add  another  instance  of  a  dog  always 
whining  when  one  note  on  a  concertina,  which  was  out  of  tune,  was  played. 

2  Mr.  R.  Brown,  in  Proceedings  Zoological  Society,  1868,  p.  10. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       333 

for  unless  the  females  were  able  to  appreciate  such  sounds  and 
were  excited  or  charmed  by  them,  the  persevering  efforts  of  the 
males,  and  the  complex  structures  often  possessed  by  them  alone, 
would  be  useless ;  and  this  it  is  impossible  to  believe. 

Human  song  is  generally  admitted  to  be  the  basis  or  origin  of 
instrumental  music.  As  neither  the  enjoyment  nor  the  capacity 
of  producing  musical  notes  are  faculties  of  the  least  use  to  man 
in  reference  to  his  daily  habits  of  life,  they  must  be  ranked 
among  the  most  mysterious  with  which  he  is  endowed.  They 
are  present,  though  in  a  very  rude  condition,  in  men  of  all  races, 
even  the  most  savage  ;  but  so  different  is  the  taste  of  the  several 
races  that  our  music  gives  no  pleasure  to  savages,  and  their 
music  is  to  us  in  most  cases  hideous  and  unmeaning.  Dr.  See- 
mann,  in  some  interesting  remarks  on  this  subject,1  "doubts 
whether  even  among  the  nations  of  Western  Europe,  intimately 
connected  as  they  are  by  close  and  frequent  intercourse,  the 
music  of  the  one  is  interpreted  in  the  same  sense  by  the  others. 
By  traveling  eastward  we  find  that  there  is  certainly  a  different 
language  of  music.  Songs  of  joy  and  dance  accompaniments  are 
no  longer  as,  with  us,  in  the  major  keys,  but  always  in  the 
minor."  Whether  or  not  the  half -human  progenitors  of  man 
possessed,  like  the  singing  gibbons,  the  capacity  of  producing, 
and  therefore  no  doubt  of  appreciating,  musical  notes,  we  know 
that  man  possessed  these  faculties  at  a  very  remote  period. 
M.  Lartet  described  two  flutes,  made  out  of  the  bones  and  horns 
of  the  reindeer,  found  in  caves  together  with  flint  tools  and  the 
remains  of  extinct  animals.  -The  arts  of  singing  and  of  dancing 
are  also  very  ancient,  and  are  now  practiced  by  all  or  nearly  all 
the  lowest  races  of  man.  Poetry,  which  may  be  considered  as  the 
offspring  of  song,  is  likewise  so  ancient  that  many  persons  have 
felt  astonished  that  it  should  have  arisen  during  the  earliest  ages 
of  which  we  have  any  record. 

We  see  that  the  musical  faculties,  which  are  not  wholly  defi- 
cient in  any  race,  are  capable  of  prompt  and  high  development, 

^Journal  of  Anthropological  Society,  October,  1870,  p.  civ.  See  also  the  several 
later  chapters  in  Sir  John  Lubbock's  Prehistoric  Times,  2d  ed.,  1869,  which  con- 
tain an  admirable  account  of  the  habits  of  savages. 


334  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

for  Hottentots  and  negroes  have  become  excellent  musicians, 
although  in  their  native  countries  they  rarely  practice  anything 
that  we  should  consider  music.  Schweinfurth,  however,  was 
pleased  with  some  of  the  simple  melodies  which  he  heard  in  the 
interior  of  Africa.  But  there  is  nothing  anomalous  in  the  musi- 
cal faculties  lying  dormant  in  man ;  some  species  of  birds,  which 
never  naturally  sing,  can  without  much  difficulty  be  taught  to  do 
so :  thus  a  house  sparrow  has  learnt  the  song  of  a  linnet.  As 
these  two  species  are  closely  allied  and  belong  to  the  order  of 
Insessores,  which  includes  nearly  all  the  singing-birds  in  the  world, 
it  is  possible  that  a  progenitor  of  the  sparrow  may  have  been  a 
songster.  It  is  more  remarkable  that  parrots,  belonging  to  a 
group  distinct  from  the  Insessores,  and  having  differently  con- 
structed vocal  organs,  can  be  taught  not  only  to  speak  but  to 
pipe  or  whistle  tunes  invented  by  man,  so  that  they  must  have 
some  musical  capacity.  Nevertheless,  it  would  be  very  rash  to 
assume  that  parrots  are  descended  from  some  ancient  form  which 
was  a  songster.  Many  cases  could  be  advanced  of  organs  and 
instincts  originally  adapted  for  one  purpose,  having  been  utilized 
for  some  distinct  purpose.1  Hence  the  capacity  for  high  musical 
development,  which  the  savage  races  of  man  possess,  may  be  due 
either  to  the  practice  by  our  semihuman  progenitors  of  some 
rude  form  of  music,  or  simply  to  their  having  acquired  the  proper 
vocal  organs  for  a  different  purpose.  But  in  this  latter  case  we 
must  assume,  as  in  the  above  instance  of  parrots,  and  as  seems 
to  occur  with  many  animals,  that  they  already  possessed  some 
sense  of  melody. 

Music  arouses  in  us  various  emotions,  but  not  the  more  terrible 
ones  of  horror,  fear,  rage,  etc.  It  awakens  the  gentler  feelings 
of  tenderness  and  love,  which  readily  pass  into  devotion.  In  the 

1  Since  this  chapter  was  printed,  I  have  seen  a  valuable  article  by  Mr.  Chauncey 
Wright  {North  American  Review,  October,  1870,  p.  293),  who,  in  discussing  the 
above  subject,  remarks,  "  There  are  many  consequences  of  the  ultimate  laws  or 
uniformities  of  nature,  through  which  the  acquisition  of  one  useful  power  will 
bring  with  it  many  resulting  advantages  as  well  as  limiting  disadvantages,  actual 
or  possible,  which  the  principle  of  utility  may  not  have  comprehended  in  its 
action." 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN       335 

Chinese  annals  it  is  said,  "  Music  hath  the  power  of  making 
heaven  descend  upon  earth."  It  likewise  stirs  up  in  us  the  sense 
of  triumph  and  the  glorious  ardor  for  war.  These  powerful  and 
mingled  feelings  may  well  give  rise  to  the  sense  of  sublimity. 
We  can  concentrate,  as  Dr.  Seemann  observes,  greater  intensity 
of  feeling  in  a  single  musical  note  than  in  pages  of  writing.  It 
is  probable  that  nearly  the  same  emotions,  but  much  weaker  and 
far  less  complex,  are  felt  by  birds  when  the  male  pours  forth  his 
full  volume  of  song,  in  rivalry  with  other  males,  to  captivate  the 
female.  Love  is  still  the  commonest  theme  of  our  songs.  As 
Herbert  Spencer  remarks,  "  Music  arouses  dormant  sentiments  of 
which  we  had  not  conceived  the  possibility,  and  do  not  know  the 
meaning ;  or,  as  Richter  says,  tells  us  of  things  we  have  not  seen 
and  shall  not  see."  Conversely,  when  vivid  emotions  are  felt  and 
expressed  by  the  orator,  or  even  in  common  speech,  musical 
cadences  and  rhythm  are  instinctively  used.  The  negro  in  Africa 
when  excited  often  bursts  forth  in  song ;  "  another  will  reply  in 
song,  while  the  company,  as  if  touched  by  a  musical  wave,  mur- 
mur a  chorus  in  perfect  unison."  l  Even  monkeys  express  strong 
feelings  in  different  tones,  —  anger  and  impatience  by  low, 
fear  and  pain  by  high,  notes.2  The  sensations  and  ideas  thus 
excited  in  us  by  music,  or  expressed  by  the  cadences  of  oratory, 
appear  from  their  vagueness,  yet  depth,  like  mental  reversions 
to  the  emotions  and  thoughts  of  a  long-past  age. 

All  these  facts  with  respect  to  music  and  impassioned  speech 
become  intelligible  to  a  certain  extent,  if  we  may  assume  that 
musical  tones  and  rhythm  were  used  by  our  half-human  ancestors 
during  the  season  of  courtship,  when  animals  of  all  kinds  are 
excited  not  only  by  love  but  by  the  strong  passions  of  jealousy, 
rivalry,  and  triumph.  From  the  deeply  laid  principle  of  inherited 
associations,  musical  tones  in  this  case  would  be  likely  to  call  up 
vaguely  and  indefinitely  the  strong  emotions  of  a  long-past  age. 
As  we  have  every  reason  to  suppose  that  articulate  speech  is  one 

1  Winwood  Reade,  The  Martyrdom  of  Man,  1872,  p.  441,  and  African  Sketch 
Book,  1873,  Vol.  II,  p.  313. 

2  Rengger,  Saugethiere  von  Paraguay,  s.  49. 


336  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  the  latest,  as  it  certainly  is  the  highest,  of  the  arts  acquired 
by  man,  and  as  the  instinctive  power  of  producing  musical  notes 
and  rhythms  is  developed  low  down  in  the  animal  series,  it  would 
be  altogether  opposed  to  the  principle  of  evolution,  if  we  were 
to  admit  that  man's  musical  capacity  has  been  developed  from 
the  tones  used  in  impassioned  speech.  We  must  suppose  that 
the  rhythms  and  cadences  of  oratory  are  derived  from  previously 
developed  musical  powers.1  We  can  thus  understand  how  it  is 
that  music,  dancing,  song,  and  poetry  are  such  very  ancient  arts. 
We  may  go  even  further  than  this,  and,  as  remarked  in  a  former 
chapter,  believe  that  musical  sounds  afforded  one  of  the  bases 
for  the  development  of  language.2 

As  the  males  of  several  quadrumanous  animals  have  their 
vocal  organs  much  more  developed  than  in  the  females,  and  as  a 
gibbon,  one  of  the  anthropomorphous  apes,  pours  forth  a  whole 
octave  of  musical  notes  and  may  be  said  to  sing,  it  appears  prob- 
able that  the  progenitors  of  man,  either  the  males  or  females 
or  both  sexes,  before  acquiring  the  power  of  expressing  their 
mutual  love  in  articulate  language,  endeavored  to  charm  each 
other  with  musical  notes  and  rhythm.  So  little  is  known  about 
the  use  of  the  voice  by  the  Quadrumana  during  the  season 
of  love  that  we  have  no  means  of  judging  whether  the  habit 
of  singing  was  first  acquired  by  our  male  or  female  ancestors. 

1  See  the  very  interesting  discussion  on  the  "  Origin  and  Function  of  Music," 
by  Herbert   Spencer,  in  his  collected  Essays,  1858,  p.  359.    Mr.  Spencer  comes 
to  an  exactly  opposite  conclusion  to  that  at  which  I  have  arrived.    He  concludes, 
as  did  Diderot  formerly,  that  the  cadences  used  in  emotional  speech  afford  the 
foundation  from  which  music  has  been  developed ;  while  I  conclude  that  musical 
notes  and  rhythm  were  first  acquired  by  the  male  or  female  progenitors  of  man- 
kind for  the  sake  of  charming  the  opposite  sex.    Thus  musical  tones  became 
firmly  associated  with  some  of  the  strongest  passions  an  animal  is  capable  of  feel- 
ing, and  are  consequently  used  instinctively,  or  through  association,  when  strong 
emotions  are  expressed  in  speech.    Mr.  Spencer  does  not  offer  any  satisfactory 
explanation,  nor  can  I,  why  high  or  deep  notes  should  be  expressive,  both  with 
man  and  the  lower  animals,  of  certain  emotions.    Mr.  Spencer  gives  also  an  inter- 
esting discussion  on  the  relations  between  poetry,  recitative  and  song. 

2  I  find  in  Lord  Monboddo's  Origin  of  Language,  1774,  Vol.  I,  p.  469,  that 
Dr.  Blacklock  likewise  thought  "  that  the  first  language  among  men  was  music, 
and   that   before    our   ideas   were    expressed,  by   articulate   sounds,    they   were 
communicated  by  tones,  varied  according  to  different  degrees  of  gravity  and 
acuteness." 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       337 

Women  are  generally  thought  to  possess  sweeter  voices  than 
men,  and  as  far  as  this  serves  as  any  guide,  we  may  infer  that 
they  first  acquired  musical  powers  in  order  to  attract  the  other 
sex.1  But  if  so,  this  must  have  occurred  long  ago,  before  our 
ancestors  had  become  sufficiently  human  to  treat  and  value  their 
women  merely  as  useful  slaves.  The  impassioned  orator,  bard, 
or  musician,  when  with  his  varied  tones  and  cadences  he  excites 
the  strongest  emotions  in  his  hearers,  little  suspects  that  he 
uses  the  same  means  by  which  his  half-human  ancestors  long 
ago  aroused  each  other's  ardent  passions  during  their  courtship 
and  rivalry. 

The  Influence  of  Beauty  in  determining  the  Marriages  of 
Mankind 

In  civilized  life  man  is  largely,  but  by  no  means  exclusively, 
influenced  in  the  choice  of  his  wife  by  external  appearance ; 
but  we  are  chiefly  concerned  with  primeval  times,  and  our  only 
means  of  forming  a  judgment  on  this  subject  is  to  study  the 
habits  of  existing  semicivilized  and  savage  nations.  If  it  can  be 
shown  that  the  men  of  different  races  prefer  women  having  vari- 
ous characteristics,  or  conversely  with  the  women,  we  have  then 
to  inquire  whether  such  choice,  continued  during  many  genera- 
tions, would  produce  any  sensible  effect  on  the  race,  either  on 
one  sex  or  both,  according  to  the  form  of  inheritance  which  has 
prevailed. 

It  will  be  well  first  to  show  in  some  detail  that  savages  pay 
the  greatest  attention  to  their  personal  appearance.2  That  they 

1  See  an  interesting  discussion  on  this  subject  by  Hackel,  Generelle  Morph., 
1866,  B.  II,  s.  246. 

2  A  full  and  excellent  account  of  the  manner  in  which  savages  in  all  parts  of 
the  world  ornament  themselves  is  given  by  the  Italian  traveler,  Professor  Man- 
tegazza,  "Rio  de  la  Plata,"  Viaggi  e  Studi,  1867,  pp.  525-545;  all  the  following 
statements,  when  other  references  are  not  given,  are  taken  from  this  work.     See 
also  Waitz,  Introduction  to  Anthropology,  English  translation,  1863,  Vol.  I,  p.  275, 
et  passim.     Lawrence  also  gives  very  full  details  in  his  Lectures  on  Physiology, 
1822.    Since  this  chapter  was  written,  Sir  J.  Lubbock  has  published  his  Origin 
of  Civilization,  1870,  in  which  there  is  an  interesting  chapter  on  the  present  subject, 
and  from  which  (pp.  42,  48)  I  have  taken  some  facts  about  savages  dyeing  their 
teeth  and  hair,  and  piercing  their  teeth. 


338  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

have  a  passion  for  ornament  is  notorious  ;  and  an  English  philos- 
opher goes  so  far  as  to  maintain  that  clothes  were  first  made 
for  ornament  and  not  for  warmth.  As  Professor  Waitz  remarks, 
"  However  poor  and  miserable  man  is,  he  finds  a  pleasure  in 
adorning  himself."  The  extravagance  of  the  naked  Indians  of 
South  America  in  decorating  themselves  is  shown  "  by  a  man  of 
large  stature  gaining  with  difficulty  enough  by  the  labor  of  a 
fortnight  to  procure  in  exchange  the  chica  necessary  to  paint 
himself  red.1  The  ancient  barbarians  of  Europe  during  the  Rein- 
deer period  brought  to  their  caves  any  brilliant  or  singular  objects 
which  they  happened  to  find.  Savages  at  the  present  day  every- 
where deck  themselves  with  plumes,  necklaces,  armlets,  earrings, 
etc.  They  paint  themselves  in  the  most  diversified  manner.  "  If 
painted  nations,"  as  Humboldt  observes,  "had  been  examined 
with  the  same  attention  as  clothed  nations,  it  would  have  been 
perceived  that  the  most  fertile  imagination  and  the  most  mutable 
caprice  have  created  the  fashions  of  painting,  as  well  as  those  of 
garments." 

In  one  part  of  Africa  the  eyelids  are  colored  black  ;  in  another 
the  nails  are  colored  yellow  or  purple.  In  many  places  the  hair 
is  dyed  of  various  tints.  In  different  countries  the  teeth  are 
stained  black,  red,  blue,  etc.,  and  in  the  Malay  Archipelago  it  is 
thought  shameful  to  have  white  teeth  "like  those  of  a  dog." 
Not  one  great  country  can  be  named,  from  the  Polar  regions  in 
the  north  to  New  Zealand  in  the  south,  in  which  the  aborigines 
do  not  tattoo  themselves.  This  practice  was  followed  by  the  Jews 
of  old,  and  by  the  ancient  Britons.  In  Africa  some  of  the  natives 
tattoo  themselves,  but  it  is  a  much  more  common  practice  to 
raise  protuberances  by  rubbing  salt  into  incisions  made  in  various 
parts  of  the  body  ;  and  these  are  considered  by  the  inhabitants 
of  Kordofan  and  Darfur  "to  be  great  personal  attractions."  In 
the  Arab  countries  no  beauty  can  be  perfect  until  the  cheeks  "  or 
temples  have  been  gashed."2  In  South  America,  as  Humboldt 

1  Humboldt,  Personal  Narrative,  English  translation,  Vol.  IV,  p.  515;  on  the 
imagination  shown  in  painting  the  body,  p.  522;  on  modifying  the  form  of  the 
calf  of  the  leg,  p.  466. 

2  The  Nile  Tributaries,  1867 ;  The  Albert  Nyanza,  1866,  Vol.  I,  p.  218. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN       339 

remarks,  "a  mother  would  be  accused  of  culpable  indifference 
toward  her  children,  if  she  did  not  employ  artificial  means  to 
shape  the  calf  of  the  leg  after  the  fashion  of  the  country."  In 
the  Old  and  New  Worlds  the  shape  of  the  skull  was  formerly 
modified  during  infancy  in  the  most  extraordinary  manner,  as  is 
still  the  case  in  many  places,  and  such  deformities  are  considered 
ornamental.  For  instance,  the  savages  of  Colombia1  deem  a 
much  flattened  head  "an  essential  point  of  beauty." 

The  hair  is  treated  with  especial  care  in  various  countries ;  it 
is  allowed  to  grow  to  full  length,  so  as  to  reach  to  the  ground,  or 
is  combed  into  "  a  compact  frizzled  mop,  which  is  the  Papuan's 
pride  and  glory."  2  In  northern  Africa  "a  man  requires  a  period 
of  from  eight  to  ten  years  to  perfect  his  coiffure."  With  other 
nations  the  head  is  shaved,  and  in  parts  of  South  America  and 
Africa  even  the  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  are  eradicated.  The 
natives  of  the  Upper  Nile  knock  out  the  four  front  teeth,  saying 
that  they  do  not  wish  to  resemble  brutes.  Further  south,  the 
Batokas  knock  out  only  the  two  upper  incisors,  which,  as  Living- 
stone3 remarks,  gives  the  face  a  hideous  appearance,  owing  to 
the  prominence  of  the  lower  jaw ;  but  these  people  think  the 
presence  of  the  incisors  most  unsightly,  and  on  beholding  some 
Europeans,  cried  out,  "  Look  at  the  great  teeth  !  "  The  chief 
Sebituani  tried  in  vain  to  alter  this  fashion.  In  various  parts  of 
Africa  and  in  the  Malay  Archipelago  the  natives  file  the  incisors 
into  points  like  those  of  a  saw,  or  pierce  them  with  holes  into 
which  they  insert  studs. 

As  the  face  with  us  is  chiefly  admired  for  its  beauty,  so  with 
savages  it  is  the  chief  seat  of  mutilation.  In  all  quarters  of  the 
world  the  septum  and  more  rarely  the  wings  of  the  nose  are 
pierced,  rings,  sticks,  feathers,  and  other  ornaments  being  inserted 
into  the  holes.  The  ears  are  everywhere  pierced  and  similarly 
ornamented,  and  with  the  Botocudos  and  Lenguas  of  South  Amer- 
ica the  hole  is  gradually  so  much  enlarged  that  the  lower  edge 

1  Quoted  by  Prichard,  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  4th  ed.,  1851,  Vol.  I,  p.  321. 

2  On  the  Papuans,  see  Wallace,  The  Malay  Archipelago,  Vol.  II,  p.  445.    On 
the  coiffure  of  the  Africans,  see  Sir  S.  Baker,  The  Albert  Nyanza,  Vol.  I,  p.  210. 

3  Travels,  p.  533. 


340  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

touches  the  shoulder.  In  North  and  South  America  and  in 
Africa  either  the  upper  or  lower  lip  is  pierced  ;  and  with  the 
Botocudos  the  hole  in  the  lower  lip  is  so  large  that  a  disk  of 
wood  four  inches  in  diameter  is  placed  in  it.  Mantegazza  gives 
a  curious  account  of  the  shame  felt  by  a  South  American  native, 
and  of  the  ridicule  which  he  excited  when  he  sold  his  tembeta,  — 
the  large  colored  piece  of  wood  which  is  passed  through  the  hole. 
In  central  Africa  the  women  perforate  the  lower  lip  and  wear  a 
crystal,  which,  from  the  movement  of  the  tongue,  has  "  a  wrig- 
gling motion,  indescribably  ludicrous  during  conversation."  The 
wife  of  the  chief  of  Latooka  told  Sir  S.  Baker1  that  Lady  Baker 
"would  be  much  improved  if  she  would  extract  her  four  front 
teeth  from  the  lower  jaw  and  wear  the  long  pointed  polished 
crystal  in  her  under  lip."  Further  south  with  the  Makololo,  the 
upper  lip  is  perforated  and  a  large  metal  and  bamboo  ring,  called 
a  pelett,  is  worn  in  the  hole.  "  This  caused  the  lip  in  one  case  to 
project  two  inches  beyond  the  tip  of  the  nose ;  and  when  the 
lady  smiled  the  contraction  of  the  muscles  elevated  it  over  the 
eyes.  '  Why  do  the  women  wear  these  things  ? '  the  venerable 
chief,  Chinsurdi,  was  asked.  Evidently  surprised  at  such  a  stupid 
question,  he  replied,  '  For  beauty !  They  are  the  only  beauti- 
ful things  women  have :  men  have  beards,  women  have  none. 
What  kind  of  person -would  she  be  without  the  peletti.  She 
would  not  be  a  woman  at  all  with  a  mouth  like  a  man  but  no 
beard.'  "  2 

Hardly  any  part  of  the  body,  which  can  be  unnaturally  modified, 
has  escaped.  The  amount  of  suffering  thus  caused  must  have 
been  extreme,  for  many  of  the  operations  require  several  years 
for  their  completion,  so  that  the  idea  of  their  necessity  must  be 
imperative.  The  motives  are  various  ;  the  men  paint  their  bodies 
to  make  themselves  appear  terrible  in  battle ;  certain  mutilations 
are  connected  with  religious  rites,  or  they  mark  the  age  of  pu- 
berty, or  the  rank  of  the  man,  or  they  serve  to  distinguish 
the  tribes.  Among  savages  the  same  fashions  prevail  for  long 

1  The  Albert  Nyanza,  1866,  Vol.  I,  p.  217. 

1  Livingstone,  British  Association,  1860;  report  given  in  the  Athenaum,  July  7, 
1860,  p.  29. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN      341 

periods,1  and  thus  mutilations,  from  whatever  cause  first  made, 
soon  come  to  be  valued  as  distinctive  marks.  But  self -adornment, 
vanity,  and  the  admiration  of  others  seem  to  be  the  commonest 
motives.  In  regard  to  tattooing,  I  was  told  by  the  missionaries 
in  New  Zealand  that  when  they  tried  to  persuade  some  girls  to 
give  up  the  practice,  they  answered,  "  We  must  just  have  a  few 
lines  on  our  lips,  else  when  we  grow  old  we  shall  be  so  very 
ugly."  With  the  men  of  New  Zealand,  a  most  capable  judge2 
says,  "  To  have  fine  tattooed  faces  was  the  great  ambition  of  the 
young  both  to  render  themselves  attractive  to  the  ladies  and  con- 
spicuous in  war."  A  star  tattooed  on  the  forehead  and  a  spot 
on  the  chin  are  thought  by  the  women  in  one  part  of  Africa  to 
be  irresistible  attractions.3  In  most  but  not  all  parts  of  the 
world  the  men  are  more  ornamented  than  the  women,  and  often 
in  a  different  manner  ;  sometimes,  though  rarely,  the  women  are 
hardly  at  all  ornamented.  As  the  women  are  made  by  savages 
to  perform  the  greatest  share  of  the  work,  and  as  they  are  not 
allowed .  to  eat  the  best  kinds  of  food,  so  it  accords  with  the 
characteristic  selfishness  of  man  that  they  should  not  be  allowed 
to  obtain  or  use  the  finest  ornaments.  Lastly,  it  is  a  remarkable 
fact,  as  proved  by  the  foregoing  quotations,  that  the  same  fashions 
in  modifying  the  shape  of  the  head,  in  ornamenting  the  hair, 
in  painting,  in  tattooing,  in  perforating  the  nose,  lips,  or  ears,  in 
removing  or  filing  the  teeth,  etc.,  now  prevail  and  have  long  pre- 
vailed in  the  most  distant  quarters  of  the  world.  It  is  extremely 
improbable  that  these  practices,  followed  by  so  many  distinct 
nations,  should  be  due  to  tradition  from  any  common  source. 
They  indicate  the  close  similarity  of  the  mind  of  man,  to  what- 
ever race  he  may  belong,  just  as  do  the  almost  universal  habits 
of  dancing,  masquerading,  and  making  rude  pictures. 

Having  made  these  preliminary  remarks  on  the  admiration 
felt  by  savages  for  various  ornaments,  and  for  deformities  most 

1  Sir  S.  Baker  (The  Albert  Nyanza,  Vol.  I,  p.  210),  speaking  of  the  natives  of 
central  Africa  says,  "  Every  tribe  has  a  distinct  and  unchanging  fashion  for  dress- 
ing the  hair."    See  Agassiz  (Journey  in  Brazil,  1868,  p.  318)  on  the  invariability  of 
the  tattooing  of  the  Amazonian  Indians. 

2  Rev.  R.  Taylor,  New  Zealand  and  its  Inhabitants,  1855,  p.  152. 
8  Mantegazza,  Viaggi  e  Studi,  p.  542. 


342 

unsightly  in  our  eyes,  let  us  see  how  far  the  men  are  attracted 
by  the  appearance  of  their  women,  and  what  are  their  ideas  of 
beauty.  I  have  heard  it  maintained  that  savages  are  quite  indif- 
ferent about  the  beauty  of  their  women,  valuing  them  solely  as 
slaves ;  it  may  therefore  be  well  to  observe  that  this  conclusion 
does  not  at  all  agree  with  the  care  which  the  women  take  in 
ornamenting  themselves  or  with  their  vanity.  Burchell1  gives 
an  amusing  account  of  a  Bushwoman  who  used  as  much  grease, 
red  ochre,  and  shining  powder  "as  would  have  ruined  any  but 
a  very  rich  husband."  She  displayed  also  "much  vanity  and  too 
evident  a  consciousness  of  her  superiority."  Mr.  Winwood  Reade 
informs  me  that  the  negroes  of  the  west  coast  often  discuss  the 
beauty  of  their  women.  Some  competent  observers  have  attrib- 
uted the  fearfully  common  practice  of  infanticide  partly  to  the 
desire  felt  by  the  women  to  retain  their  good  looks.2  In  several 
regions  the  women  wear  charms  and  use  love  philters  to  gain 
the  affections  of  the  men  ;  and  Mr.  Brown  enumerates  four 
plants  used  for  this  purpose  by  the  women  of  northwestern 
America.3 

Hearne,4  an  excellent  observer,  who  lived  many  years  with  the 
American  Indians,  says,  in  speaking  of  the  women,  "Ask  a 
Northern  Indian  what  is  beauty,  and  he  will  answer,  a  broad  flat 
face,  small  eyes,  high  cheek  bones,  three  or  four  broad  black 
lines  across  each  cheek,  a  low  forehead,  a  large  broad  chin,  a 
clumsy  hook  nose,  a  tawny  hide,  and  breasts  hanging  down  to 
the  belt."  Pallas,  who  visited  the  northern  parts  of  the  Chinese 
Empire,  says,  "Those  women  are  preferred  who  have  the  Mand- 
schu  form  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  broad  face,  high  cheek  bones,  very 
broad  noses,  and  enormous  ears  ;"6  and  Vogt  remarks  that  the 

1  Travels  in  South  Africa,  1824,  Vol.  I,  p.  414. 

2  See  for  references,  Gerland,  Ueber  das  Aussterben  der  Naturvolker,  1868, 
s.  51,  53,  55 ;  also  Azara,  Voyages,  etc.,  Tome  II,  p.  116. 

8  On  the  vegetable  productions  used  by  the  Northwestern  American  Indians, 
Pharmaceutical  Journal,  Vol.  X. 

*  A  Journey  from  Prince  of  Wales  Fort,  8vo,  edit.  1796,  p.  89. 

6  Quoted  by  Prichard,  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  1844,  jd  ed.,  Vol.  IV, 
p.  519;  Vogt,  Lectures  on  Man,  English  translation,  p.  129.  On  the  opinion  of 
the  Chinese  on  the  Cingalese,  E.  Tennent,  Ceylon,  1859,  Vol.  II,  p.  107. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       343 

obliquity  of  the  eye,  which  is  proper  to  the  Chinese  and  Japanese, 
is  exaggerated  in  their  pictures  for  the  purpose,  as  it  seems,  "  of 
exhibiting  its  beauty,  as  contrasted  with  the  eye  of  the  red-haired 
barbarians."  It  is  well  known,  as  Hue  repeatedly  remarks,  that 
the  Chinese  of  the  interior  think  Europeans  hideous,  with  their 
white  skins  and  prominent  noses.  The  nose  is  far  from  being  too 
prominent,  according  to  our  ideas,  in  the  natives  of  Ceylon ;  yet 
"the  Chinese  in  the  seventh  century,  accustomed  to  the  flat 
features  of  the  Mongol  races,  were  surprised  at  the  prominent 
noses  of  the  Cingalese;  and  Thsang  described  them  as  'having 
the  beak  of  a  bird,  with  the  body  of  a  man.'" 

Finlayson,  after  minutely  describing  the  people  of  Cochin 
China,  says  that  their  rounded  heads  and  faces  are  their  chief 
characteristics ;  and  he  adds,  "  The  roundness  of  the  whole  coun- 
tenance is  more  striking  in  the  women,  who  are  reckoned  beau- 
tiful in  proportion  as  they  display  this  form  of  face."  The 
Siamese  have  small  noses  with  divergent  nostrils,  a  wide  mouth, 
rather  thick  lips,  a  remarkably  large  face,  with  very  high  and 
broad  cheek  bones.  It  is,  therefore,  not  wonderful  that  "beauty, 
according  to  our  notion,  is  a  stranger  to  them.  Yet  they  con- 
sider their  own  females  to  be  much  more  beautiful  than  those 
of  Europe."  l 

It  is  well  known  that  with  many  Hottentot  women  the  pos- 
terior part  of  the  body  projects  in  a  wonderful  manner ;  they 
are  steatopygous ;  and  Sir  Andrew  Smith  is  certain  that  this 
peculiarity  is  greatly  admired  by  the  men.2  He  once  saw  a 
woman  who  was  considered  a  beauty,  and  she  was  so  immensely 
developed  behind  that  when  seated  on  level  ground  she  could 
not  rise,  and  had  to  push  herself  along  until  she  came  to  a  slope. 
Some  of  the  women  in  various  negro  tribes  have  the  same  pecul- 
iarity ;  and,  according  to  Burton,  the  Somal  men  "  are  said  to 
choose  their  wives  by  ranging  them  in  a  line,  and  by  picking  her 

1  Prichard,  as  taken  from  Crawfurd  and  Finlayson,  Physical  History  of  Man- 
kind, Vol.  IV,  pp.  534,  536. 

2  Idem  illustrissimus  viator  dixit  mihi  praecinctorium  vel  tabulam  foeminae,  quod 
nobis  teterrimum  est,  quondam  permagno  aestimari  ab  hominibus  in  hac  gente. 
Nunc  res  mutata  est,  et  censent  talem  conformationem  minime  optandam  esse. 


344  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

out  who  projects  farthest  a  tergo.  Nothing  can  be  more  hateful 
to  a  negro  than  the  opposite  form." 1 

With  respect  to  color,  the  negroes  rallied  Mungo  Park  on  the 
whiteness  of  his  skin  and  the  prominence  of  his  nose,  both  of 
which  they  considered  as  "unsightly  and  unnatural  conforma- 
tions." He  in  return  praised  the  glossy  jet  of  their  skins  and 
the  lovely  depression  of  their  noses ;  this  they  said  was  "  honey- 
mouth,"  nevertheless  they  gave  him  food.  The  African  Moors, 
also,  "  knitted  their  brows  and  seemed  to  shudder  "  at  the  white- 
ness of  his  skin.  On  the  eastern  coast  the  negro  boys,  when 
they  saw  Burton,  cried  out,  "  Look  at  the  white  man  ;  does  he 
not  look  like  a  white  ape  ?  "  On  the  western  coast,  as  Mr.  Win- 
wood  Reade  informs  me,  the  negroes  admire  a  very  black  skin 
more  than  one  of  a  lighter  tint.  But  their  horror  of  whiteness 
may  be  attributed,  according  to  this  same  traveler,  partly  to  the 
belief  held  by  most  negroes  that  demons  and  spirits  are  white, 
and  partly  to  their  thinking  it  a  sign  of  ill  health. 

The  Banyai  of  the  more  southern  part  of  the  continent  are 
negroes,  but  "  a  great  many  of  them  are  of  a  light  coffee-and-milk 
color,  and,  indeed,  this  color  is  considered  handsome  throughout 
the  whole  country ; "  so  that  here  we  have  a  different  standard 
of  taste.  With  the  Kafirs,  who  differ  much  from  negroes,  "  the 
skin,  except  among  the  tribes  near  Delagoa  Bay,  is  not  usually 
black,  the  prevailing  color  being  a  mixture  of  black  and  red,  the 
most  common  shade  being  chocolate.  Dark  complexions,  as  being 
most  common,  are  naturally  held  in  the  highest  esteem.  To  be 
told  that  he  is  light  colored,  or  like  a  white  man,  would  be  deemed 
a  very  poor  compliment  by  a  Kafir.  I  have  heard  of  one  unfor- 
tunate man  who  was  so  very  fair  that  no  girl  would  marry  him." 
One  of  the  titles  of  the  Zulu  king  is,  "  You  who  are  black." 2 
Mr.  Galton,  in  speaking  to  me  about  the  natives  of  South  Africa, 

1  The  Anthropological  Review,  November,  1864,   p.  237.    For  additional  ref- 
erences   see  Waitz,  Introduction   to   Anthropology,    English    translation,    1863, 
Vol.  I,  p.  105. 

2  Mungo  Park's  Travels  in  Africa,  4to,  1816,  pp.  53,  131.    Burton's  statement  is 
quoted  by  Schaaffhausen,  Archiv  fur  Anthropologie,  1866,  s.  163.    On  the  Banyai, 
see  Livingstone,  Travels,  p.  64.    On  the  Kafirs,  see  the  Rev.  J.  Shooter,  The 
Kafirs  of  Natal  and  the  Zulu  Country,  1857,  p.  i. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       345 

remarked  that  their  ideas  of  beauty  seem  very  different  from 
ours ;  for  in  one  tribe  two  slim,  slight,  and  pretty  girls  were  not 
admired  by  the  natives. 

Turning  to  other  quarters  of  the  world  ;  in  Java  a  yellow  not 
a  white  girl  is  considered,  according  to  Madame  Pfeiffer,  a  beauty. 
A  man  of  Cochin  China  "  spoke  with  contempt  of  the  wife  of 
the  English  ambassador,  that  she  had  white  teeth  like  a  dog, 
and  a  rosy  color  like  that  of  potato  flowers."  We  have  seen  that 
the  Chinese  dislike  our  white  skin,  and  that  the  North  Americans 
admire  "a  tawny  hide."  In  South  America  the  Yurucares,  who 
inhabit  the  wooded,  damp  slopes  of  the  eastern  Cordillera,  are 
remarkably  pale  colored,  as  their  name  in  their  own  language 
expresses ;  nevertheless  they  consider  European  women  as  very 
inferior  to  their  own.1 

In  several  tribes  of  North  America  the  hair  on  the  head  grows 
to  a  wonderful  length  ;  and  Catlin  gives  a  curious  proof  of  how 
much  this  is  esteemed,  for  the  chief  of  the  Crows  was  elected  to 
this  office  from  having  the  longest  hair  of  any  man  in  the  tribe, 
namely,  ten  feet  and  seven  inches.  The  Aymaras  and  Quichuas 
of  South  America  likewise  have  very  long  hair ;  and  this,  as 
Mr.  D.  Forbes  informs  me,  is  so  much  valued  as  a  beauty  that 
cutting  it  off  was  the  severest  punishment  which  he  could  inflict 
on  them.  In  both  the  northern  and  southern  halves  of  the  con- 
tinent the  natives  sometimes  increase  the  apparent  length  of 
the  hair  by  weaving  into  it  fibrous  substances.  Although  the 
hair  on  the  head  is  thus  cherished,  that  on  the  face  is  considered 
by  the  North  American  Indians  "as  very  vulgar,"  and  every 
hair  is  carefully  eradicated.  This  practice  prevails  throughout 
the  American  continent,  from  Vancouver's  Island  in  the  north  to 
Tierra  del  Fuego  in  the  south.  When  York  Minster,  a  Fuegian 
on  board  the  Beagle,  was  taken  back  to  his  country,  the  natives 
told  him  he  ought  to  pull  out  the  few  short  hairs  on  his  face. 
They  also  threatened  a  young  missionary,  who  was  left  for  a 

1  For  the  Javans  and  Cochin  Chinese,  see  Waitz,  Introduction  to  Anthropology, 
English  translation,  Vol.  I,  p.  305.  On  the  Yuracaras,  A.  d'Orligny,  as  quoted  in 
Prichard,  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  3d  ed.,  Vol.  V,  p.  476. 


346  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

time  with  them,  to  strip  him  naked,  and  pluck  the  hairs  from  his 
face  and  body,  yet  he  was  far  from  being  a  hairy  man.  This 
fashion  is  carried  so  far  that  the  Indians  of  Paraguay  eradicate 
their  eyebrows  and  eyelashes,  saying  that  they  do  not  wish  to 
be  like  horses.1 

It  is  remarkable  that  throughout  the  world  the  races  which 
are  almost  completely  destitute  of  a  beard  dislike  hairs  on  the 
face  and  body,  and  take  pains  to  eradicate  them.  The  Kal- 
mucks are  beardless,  and  they  are  well  known,  like  the  Ameri- 
cans, to  pluck  out  all  straggling  hairs ;  and  so  it  is  with  the 
Polynesians,  some  of  the  Malays,  and  the  Siamese.  Mr.  Veitch 
states  that  the  Japanese  ladies  "all  objected  to  our  whiskers, 
considering  them  very  ugly,  and  told  us  to  cut  them  off,  and  be 
like  Japanese  men."  The  New  Zealanders  have  short,  curled 
beards,  yet  they  formerly  plucked  out  the  hairs  on  the  face. 
They  had  a  saying  that  "  There  is  no  woman  for  a  hairy  man" ; 
but  it  would  appear  that  the  fashion  has  changed  in  New  Zea- 
land, perhaps  owing  to  the  presence  of  Europeans,  and  I  am 
assured  that  beards  are  now  admired  by  the  Maoris.2 

On  the  other  hand,  bearded  races  admire  and  greatly  value 
their  beards.  Among  the  Anglo-Saxons  every  part  of  the  body 
had  a  recognized  value,  the  loss  of  the  beard  being  estimated  at 
twenty  shillings,  while  the  breaking  of  a  thigh  was  fixed  at  only 
twelve.3  In  the  East  men  swear  solemnly  by  their  beards. 
We  have  seen  that  Chinsurdi,  the  chief  of  the  Makololo  in 
Africa,  thought  that  beards  were  .a  great  ornament.  In  the 
Pacific  the  Fijian's  beard  is  "profuse  and  bushy,  and  is  his 
greatest  pride";  while  the  inhabitants  of  the  adjacent  archi- 
pelagoes of  Tonga  and  Samoa  are  "  beardless  and  abhor  a  rough 

1  North  American  Indians,  by  G.  Catlin,  3d  ed.,  1842,  Vol.  I,  p.  4;  Vol.  II, 
p.  227.    On  the  natives  of  Vancouver's  Island,  see  Sproat,  Scenes  and  Studies 
of  Savage  Life,  1868,  p.  25.    On  the  Indians  of  Paraguay,  see  Azara,  Voyages, 
Tome  II,  p.  105. 

2  On  the  Siamese,  see  Prichard,  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  Vol.  IV,  p.  533. 
On  the  Japanese,  see  Veitch  in  Gardeners'  Chronicle,  1860,  p.  1104.    On  the  New 
Zealanders,  see  Mantegazza,  Viaggi  e  Studi,  1867,  p.  526.    For  the  other  nations 
mentioned,  see  references  in  Lawrence,  Lectures  on  Physiology,  etc.,  1822,  p.  272. 

3  Lubbock,  Origin  of  Civilization,  1870,  p.  321. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  'IN  RELATION  TO  MAN      347 

chin."  In  one  island  alone  of  the  Ellice  group  "the  men  are 
heavily  bearded,  and  not  a  little  proud  thereof."  1 

We  thus  see  how  widely  the  different  races  of  man  differ  in 
their  taste  for  the  beautiful.  In  every  nation  sufficiently  advanced 
to  have  made  effigies  of  their,  gods  or  their  deified  rulers,  the 
sculptors  no  doubt  have  endeavored  to  express  their  highest  ideal 
of  beauty  and  grandeur.2  Under  this  point  of  view  it  is  well  to 
compare  in  our  mind  the  Jupiter  or  Apollo  of  the  Greeks  with 
the  Egyptian  or  Assyrian  statues ;  and  these  with  the  hideous 
bas-reliefs  on  the  ruined  buildings  of  Central  America. 

I  have  met  with  very  few  statements  opposed  to  this  conclusion. 
Mr.  Winwood  Reade,  however,  who  has  had  ample  opportunities 
for  observation,  not  only  with  the  negroes  of  the  west  coast  of 
Africa  but  with  those  of  the  interior  who  have  never  associated 
with  Europeans,  is  convinced  that  their  ideas  of  beauty  are  on  the 
whole  the  same  as  ours  ;  and  Dr.  Rohlfs  writes  to  me  to  the  same 
effect  with  respect  to  Bornu  and  the  countries  inhabited  by  the 
Fulah  tribes.  Mr.  Reade  found  that  he  agreed  with  the  negroes 
in  their  estimation  of  the  beauty  of  the  native  girls ;  and  that 
their  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  European  women  corresponded 
with  ours.  They  admire  long  hair,  using  artificial  means  to  make 
it  appear  abundant ;  they  admire  also  a  beard,  though  themselves 
very  scantily  provided.  Mr.  Reade  feels  doubtful  what  kind  of  a 
nose  is  most  appreciated  ;  a  girl  has  been  heard  to  say,  "  I  do 
not  want  to  marry  him,  he  has  got  no  nose"  ;  and  this  shows  that 
a  very  flat  nose  is  not  admired.  We  should,  however,  bear  in 
mind  that  the  depressed,  broad  noses  and  projecting  jaws  of  the 
negroes  of  the  west  coast  are  exceptional  types  with  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Africa.  Notwithstanding  the  foregoing  statements,  Mr. 
Reade  admits  that  negroes  "  do  not  like  the  color  of  our  skin ; 
they  look  on  blue  eyes  with  aversion,  and  they  think  our  noses 
too  long  and  our  lips  too  thin."  He  does  not  think  it  probable 
that  negroes  would  ever  prefer  the  most  beautiful  European 

1  Dr.  Barnard  Davis  quotes  Mr.  Prichard  and  others  for  these  facts  in  regard 
to  the  Polynesians,  in  Anthropological  Review,  April,  1870,  pp.  185,  191. 

2  Ch.  Comte  has  remarks  to  this  effect  in  his  Traite  de  Legislation,  3d  ed., 
1837,  p.  136. 


348  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

woman,  on  the  mere  grounds  of  physical  admiration,  to  a  good- 
looking  negress.1 

The  general  truth  of  the  principle,  long  ago  insisted  on  by 
Humboldt,2  that  man  admires  and  often  tries  to  exaggerate  what- 
ever characters  nature  may  have  given  him,  is  shown  in  many 
ways.  The  practice  of  beardless  races  extirpating  every  trace  of 
a  beard,  and  often  all  the  hairs  on  the  body,  affords  one  illustra- 
tion. The  skull  has  been  greatly  modified  during  ancient  and 
modern  times  by  many  nations ;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
this  has  been  practiced,  especially  in  North  and  South  America, 
in  order  to  exaggerate  some  natural  and  admired  peculiarity. 
Many  American  Indians  are  known  to  admire  a  head  so  extremely 
flattened  as  to  appear  to  us  idiotic.  The  natives  on  the  north- 
western coast  compress  the  head  into  a  pointed  cone ;  and  it  is 
their  constant  practice  to  gather  the  hair  into  a  knot  on  the  top 
of  the  head,  for  the  sake,  as  Dr.  Wilson  remarks,  "  of  increasing 
the  apparent  elevation  of  the  favorite  conoid  form."  The  inhabit- 
ants* of  Arakan  "admire  a  broad,  smooth  forehead,  and  in  order 
to  produce  it,  they  fasten  a  plate  of  lead  on  the  heads  of  the  new- 
born children."  On  the  other  hand,  "a  broad,  well-rounded  occiput 
is  considered  a  great  beauty"  by  the  natives  of  the  Fiji  Islands.3 

As  with  the  skull,  so  with  the  nose ;  the  ancient  Huns  during 
the  age  of  Attila  were  accustomed  to  flatten  the  noses  of  their 

1  The  African  Sketch  Book,  1873,  Vol.  II,  pp.  253,  394,  521.  The  Fuegians, 
as  I  have  been  informed  by  a  missionary  who  long  resided  with  them,  consider 
European  women  as  extremely  beautiful ;  but  from  what  we  have  seen  of  the 
judgment  of  the  other  aborigines  of  America,  I  cannot  but  think  that  this  must 
be  a  mistake,  unless  indeed  the  statement  refers  to  the  few  Fuegians  who  have 
lived  for  some  time  with  Europeans,  and  who  must  consider  us  as  superior  beings. 
I  should  add  that  a  most  experienced  observer,  Captain  Burton,  believes  that  a 
woman  whom  we  consider  beautiful  is  admired  throughout  the  world  {Anthropo- 
logical Review,  March,  1864,  p.  245). 

a  Personal  Narrative,  English  translation,  Vol.  IV,  p.  518,  and  elsewhere. 
Mantegazza,  in  his  Viaggi  e  Studi,  1867,  strongly  insists  on  this  same  principle. 

8  On  the  skulls  of  the  American  tribes,  see  Nott  and  Gliddon,  Types  of  Man- 
kind, 1854,  p.  440;  Prichard,  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  3d  ed.,  Vol.  I, 
p.  321.  On  the  natives  of  Arakan,  see  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  Vol.  IV, 
P-  537;  Wilson,  Physical  Ethnology,  Smithsonian  Institution,  1863,  p.  288.  On 
the  Fijians,  see  Wilson,  Physical  Ethnology,  Smithsonian  Institution,  1863,  p.  290. 
Sir  J.  Lubbock  (Prehistoric  Times,  2d  ed.,  1869,  p.  506)  gives  an  excellent  resume 
on  this  subject. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN 


349 


infants  with  bandages,  "for  the  sake  of  exaggerating  a  natural 
conformation."  With  the  Tahitians,  to  be  called  "long-nose"  is 
considered  as  an  insult,  and  they  compress  the  noses  and  fore- 
heads of  their  children  for  the  sake  of  beauty.  The  same  holds 
with  the  Malays  of  Sumatra,  the  Hottentots,  certain  negroes, 
and  the  natives  of  Brazil.1  The  Chinese  have  by  nature  unusually 
small  feet;2  and  it  is  well  known  that  the  women  of  the  upper 
classes  distort  their  feet  to  make  them  still  smaller.  Lastly, 
Humboldt  thinks  that  the  American  Indians  prefer  coloring 
their  bodies  with  red  paint  in  order  to  exaggerate  their  natural 
tint ;  and  until  recently  European  women  added  to  their  naturally 
bright  colors  by  rouge  and  white  cosmetics ;  but  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  barbarous  nations  have  generally  had  any  such 
intention  in  painting  themselves. 

In  the  fashions  of  our  own  dress  we  see  exactly  the  same  prin- 
ciple and  the  same  desire  to  carry  every  point  to  an  extreme  ;  we 
exhibit,  also,  the  same  spirit  of  emulation.  But  the  fashions  of 
savages  are  far  more  permanent  than  ours  ;  and  whenever  their 
bodies  are  artificially  modified,  this  is  necessarily  the  case.  The 
Arab  women  of  the  upper  Nile  occupy  about  three  days  in 
dressing  their  hair  ;  they  never  imitate  other  tribes,  "  but  simply 
vie  with  each  other  in  the  superlativeness  of  their  own  style." 
Dr.  Wilson,  in  speaking  of  the  compressed  skulls  of  various 
American  races,  adds,  "  Such  usages  are  among  the  least  eradi- 
cable,  and  long  survive  the  shock  of  revolutions  that  change 
dynasties  and  efface  more,  important  national  peculiarities."  3  The 
same  principle  comes  into  play  in  the  art  of  breeding ;  and  we 
can  -thus  understand,  as  I  have  elsewhere  explained,4  the  wonder- 
ful development  of  the  many  races  of  animals  and  plants,  which 

1  On  the  Huns,  see  Godron,  De  1'Espece,  1859,  Tome  II,  p.  300.    On  the  Tahi- 
tians, see  Waitz,  Anthropology,  English  translation,  Vol.  I,  p.  305.  Marsden,  quoted 
by  Prichard  in  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  3d  ed.,  Vol.  V,  p.  67.    Lawrence, 
Lectures  on  Physiology,  p.  337. 

2  This  fact  was  ascertained  in  the  Reise  der  Novara :  "  Anthropolog.  Theil," 
Dr.  Weisbach,  1867,  s.  265. 

8  Smithsonian  Institution,  1863,  P-  2&9-  On  the  fashions  of  Arab  women,  see 
Sir  S.  Baker,  The  Nile  Tributaries,  1867,  p.  121. 

4  The  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domestication,  Vol.  I,  p.  214; 
Vol.  II,  p.  240. 


350  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

have  been  kept  merely  for  ornament.  Fanciers  always  wish  each 
character  to  be  somewhat  increased  ;  they  do  not  admire  a  me- 
dium standard  ;  they  certainly  do  not  desire  any  great  and  abrupt 
change  in  the  character  of  their  breeds  ;  they  admire  solely  what 
they  are  accustomed  to,  but  they  ardently  desire  to  see  each 
characteristic  feature  a  little  more  developed. 

The  senses  of  man  and  of  the  lower  animals  seem  to  be  so 
constituted  that  brilliant  colors  and  certain  forms,  as  well  as 
harmonious  and  rhythmical  sounds,  give  pleasure  and  are  called 
beautiful ;  but  why  this  should  be  so,  we  know  not.  It  is  cer- 
tainly not  true  that  there  is  in  the  mind  of  man  any  universal 
standard  of  beauty  with  respect  to  the  human  body.  It  is,  how- 
ever, possible  that  certain  tastes  may  in  the  course  of  time 
become  inherited,  though  there  is  no  evidence  in  favor  of  this 
belief ;  and  if  so,  each  race  would  possess  its  own  innate  ideal 
standard  of  beauty.  It  has  been  argued  1  that  ugliness  consists 
in  an  approach  to  the  structure  of  the  lower  animals,  and  no 
doubt  this  is  partly  true  with  the  more  civilized  nations  in  which 
intellect  is  highly  appreciated  ;  but  this  explanation  will  hardly 
apply  to  all  forms  of  ugliness.  The  men  of  each  race  prefer  what 
they  are  accustomed  to  ;  they  cannot  endure  any  great  change  ; 
but  they  like  variety  and  admire  each  characteristic  carried  to  a 
moderate  extreme.2  Men  accustomed  to  a  nearly  oval  face,  to 
straight  and  regular  features,  and  to  bright  colors  admire,  as  we 
Europeans  know,  these  points  when  strongly  developed.  On  the 
other  hand,  men  accustomed  to  a  broad  face  with  high  cheek 
bones,  a  depressed  nose,  and  a  black  skin  admire  these  pecul- 
iarities when  strongly  marked.  No  doubt  characters  of  all  kinds 
may  be  too  much  developed  for  beauty.  Hence  a  perfect  beauty, 
which  implies  many  characters  modified  in  a  particular  manner, 
will  be  in  every  race  a  prodigy.  As  the  great  anatomist  Bichat 
long  ago  said,  if  every  one  were  cast  in  the  same  mold,  there 
would  be  no  such  thing  as  beauty.  If  all  our  women  were  to 

1  Schaaffhausen,  Archiv  fur  Anthropologie,  1866,  s.  164. 

2  Mr.  Bain  has  collected  (Mental  and  Moral  Science,  1668,  pp.  304-314)  about 
a  dozen  more  or  less  different  theories  of  the  idea  of  beauty ;  but  none  are  quite 
the  same  as  that  here  given. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       351 

become  as  beautiful  as  the  Venus  de'  Medici,  we  should  for  a  time 
be  charmed  ;  but  we  should  soon  wish  for  variety ;  and  as  soon  as 
we  had  obtained  variety  we  should  wish  to  see  certain  characters 
a  little  exaggerated  beyond  the  then  existing  common  standard. 

We  have  seen  in  the  last  chapter  that  with  all  barbarous  races 
ornaments,  dress,  and  external  appearance  are  highly  valued ;  and 
that  the  men  judge  of  the  beauty  of  their  women  by  widely  dif- 
ferent standards.  We  must  next  inquire  whether  this  preference 
and  the  consequent  selection  during  many  generations  of  those 
women,  which  appear  to  the  men  of  each  race  the  most  attract- 
ive, has  altered  the  character  either  of  the  females  alone,  or  of 
both  sexes.  With  mammals  the  general  rule  appears  to  be  that 
characters  of  all  kinds  are  inherited  equally  by  the  males  and 
females ;  we  might  therefore  expect  that  with  mankind  any 
characters  gained  by  the  females  or  by  the  males  through  sexual 
selection  would  commonly  be  transferred  to  the  offspring  of  both 
sexes.  If  any  change  has  thus  been  effected,  it  is  almost  cer- 
tain that  the  different  races  would  be  differently  modified,  as 
each  has  its  own  standard  of  beauty. 

With  mankind,  especially  with  savages,  many  causes  inter- 
fere with  the  action  of  sexual  selection  as  far  as  the  bodily  frame 
is  concerned.  Civilized  men  are  largely  attracted  by  the  mental 
charms  of  women,  by  their  wealth,  and  especially  by  their  social 
position ;  for  men  rarely  marry  into  a  much  lower  rank.  The 
men  who  succeed  in  obtaining  the  more  beautiful  women  will 
not  have  a  better  chance  of  leaving  a  long  line  of  descendants 
than  other  men  with  plainer  wives,  save  the  few  who  bequeath 
their  fortunes  according  to  primogeniture.  With  respect  to  the 
opposite  form  of  selection,  namely,  of  the  more  attractive  men  by 
the  women,  although  in  civilized  nations  women  have  free  or 
almost  free  choice,  which  is  not  the  case  with  barbarous  races, 
yet  their  choice  is  largely  influenced  by  the  social  position  and 
wealth  of  the  men ;  and  the  success  of  the  latter  in  life  depends 
much  on  their  intellectual  powers  and  energy,  or  on  the  fruits  of 
these  same  powers  in  their  forefathers.  No  excuse  is  needed  for 
treating  this  subject  in  some  detail ;  for,  as  the  German  philoso- 
pher Schopenhauer  remarks,  "  the  final  aim  of  all  love  intrigues, 


352  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

be  they  comic  or  tragic,  is  really  of  more  importance  than  all 
other  ends  in  human  life.  What  it  all  turns  upon  is  nothing  less 
than  the  composition  of  the  next  generation.  ...  It  is  not  the 
weal  or  woe  of  any  one  individual,  but  that  of  the  human  race  to 
come,  which  is  here  at  stake."  1 

There  is,  however,  reason  to  believe  that  in  certain  civilized 
and  semicivilized  nations  sexual  selection  has  effected  something 
in  modifying  the  bodily  frame  of  some  of  the  members.  Many 
persons  are  convinced,  as  it  appears  to  me  with  justice,  that  our 
aristocracy,  including  under  this  term  all  wealthy  families  in 
which  primogeniture  has  long  prevailed,  from  having  chosen 
during  many  generations  from  all  classes  the  more  beautiful 
women  as  their  wives,  have  become  handsomer,  according  to  the 
European  standard,  than  the  middle  classes ;  yet  the  middle 
classes  are  placed  under  equally  favorable  conditions  of  life  for 
the  perfect  development  of  the  body.  Cook  remarks  that  the 
superiority  in  personal  appearance  "which  is  observable  in  the 
erees  or  nobles  in  all  the  other  islands  (of  the  Pacific)  is  found 
in  the  Sandwich  Islands  ";  but  this  may  be  chiefly  due  to  their 
better  food  and  manner  of  life. 

The  old  traveler  Chardin,  in  describing  the  Persians,  says  their 
"  blood  is  now  highly  refined  by  frequent  intermixtures  with  the 
Georgians  and  Circassians,  two  nations  which  surpass  all  the 
world  in  personal  beauty.  There  is  hardly  a  man  of  rank  in 
Persia  who  is  not  born  of  a  Georgian  or  Circassian  mother."  He 
adds  that  they  inherit  their  beauty  "  not  from  their  ancestors,  for 
without  the  above  mixture,  the  men  of  rank  in  Persia,  who  are 
descendants  of  the  Tartars,  would  be  extremely  ugly."  2  Here  is 
a  more  curious  case  :  the  priestesses  who  attended  the  temple  of 
Venus  Erycina  at  San  Giuliano  in  Sicily  were  selected  for  their 
beauty  out  of  the  whole  of  Greece  ;  they  were  not  vestal  virgins, 
and  Quatrefages,3  who  states  the  foregoing  fact,  says  that  the 

1  "Schopenhauer  and  Darwinism,"  in  Journal  of  Anthropology,  January,  1871, 

P-  323- 

2  These  quotations  are  taken  from  Lawrence  (Lectures  on  Physiology,  etc., 
1822,  p.  393),  who  attributes  the  beauty  of  the  upper  classes  in  England  to  the 
men  having  long  selected  the  more  beautiful  women. 

'  "  Anthropologie,"  Revue  des  Cours  Scientifiques,  October,  1868,  p.  721. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       353 

women  of  San  Giuliano  are  now  famous  as  the  most  beautiful  in 
the  island,  and  are  sought  by  artists  as  models.  But  it  is  obvious 
that  the  evidence  in  all  the  above  cases  is  doubtful. 

The  following  case,  though  relating  to  savages,  is  well  worth 
giving  from  its  curiosity.  Mr.  Winwood  Reade  informs  me  that 
the  Jolofs,  a  tribe  of  negroes  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa,  "  are 
remarkable  for  their  uniformly  fine  appearance."  A  friend  of 
his  asked  one  of  these  men,  "  How  is  it  that  every  one  whom  I 
meet  is  so  fine  looking,  not  only  your  men  but  your  women  ?  " 
The  Jolof  answered,  "  It  is  very  easily  explained ;  it  has  always 
been  our  custom  to  pick  out  our  worse-looking  slaves  arid  to  sell 
them."  It  need  hardly  be  added  that  with  all  savages,  female 
slaves  serve  as  concubines.  That  this  negro  should  have  attrib- 
uted, whether  rightly  or  wrongly,  the  fine  appearance  of  his 
tribe  to  the  long-continued  elimination  of  the  ugly  women  is  not  so 
surprising  as  it  may  at  first  appear ;  for  I  have  elsewhere  shown  1 
that  the  negroes  fully  appreciate  the  importance  of  selection  in 
the  breeding  of  their  domestic  animals,  and  I  could  give  from 
Mr.  Reade  additional  evidence  on  this  head. 

The  Causes  which  prevent  or  check  the  Action  of  Sexual 
Selection  with  Savages 

The  chief  causes  are,  first,  so-called  communal  marriages  or 
promiscuous  intercourse ;  secondly,  the  consequences  of  female 
infanticide  ;  thirdly,  early  betrothals ;  and  lastly,  the  low  estima- 
tion in  which  women  are  held,  as  mere  slaves.  These  four  points 
must  be  considered  in  some  detail. 

It  is  obvious  that  as  long  as  the  pairing  of  man,  or  of  any 
other  animal,  is  left  to  mere  chance,  with  no  choice  exerted  by 
either  sex,  there  can  be  no  sexual  selection;  and  no  effect  will 
be  produced  on  the  offspring  by  certain  individuals  having  had 
an  advantage  over  others  in  their  courtship.  Now  it  is  asserted 
that  there  exist  at  the  present  day  tribes  which  practice  what  Sir  J. 
Lubbock  by  courtesy  calls  communal  marriages  ;  that  is,  all  the 
men  and  women  in  the  tribe  are  husbands  and  wives  to  one 

1  The  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domestication,  Vol.  I,  p.  207. 


354  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

another.  The  licentiousness  of  many  savages  is  no  doubt  aston- 
ishing, but  it  seems  to  me  that  more  evidence  is  requisite,  before 
we  fully  admit  that  their  intercourse  is  in  any  case  promiscuous. 
Nevertheless  all  those  who  have  most  closely  studied  the  subject,1 
and  whose  judgment  is  worth  much  more  than  mine,  believe  that 
communal  marriage  (this  expression  being  variously  guarded) 
was  the  original  and  universal  form  throughout  the  world,  includ- 
ing therein  the  intermarriage  of  brothers  and  sisters.  The  late 
Sir  A.  Smith,  who  had  traveled  widely  in  South  Africa,  and 
knew  much  about  the  habits  of  savages  there  and  elsewhere, 
expressed  to  me  the  strongest  opinion  that  no  race  exists  in 
which  woman  is  considered  as  the  property  of  the  community. 
I  believe  that  his  judgment  was  largely  determined  by  what  is 
implied  by  the  term  "marriage."  Throughout  the  following  dis- 
cussion I  use  the  term  in  the  same  sense  as  when  naturalists 
speak  of  animals  as  monogamous,  meaning  thereby  that  the  male 
is  accepted  by  or  chooses  a  single  female,  and  lives  with  her 
either  during  the  breeding  season,  or  for  the  whole  year,  keeping 
possession  of  her  by  the  law  of  might ;  or,  as  when  they  speak 
of  a  polygamous  species,  meaning  that  the  male  lives  with  sev- 
eral females.  This  kind  of  marriage  is  all  that  concerns  us  here, 
as  it  suffices  the  work  of  sexual  selection.  But  I  know  that  some 
of  the  writers,  above  referred  to,  imply  by  the  term  "marriage," 
a  recognized  right,  protected  by  the  tribe. 

The  indirect  evidence  in  favor  of  the  belief  of  the  former  prev- 
alence of  communal  marriages  is  strong,  and  rests  chiefly  on  the 
terms  of  relationship  which  are  employed  between  the  members 
of  the  same  tribe,  implying  a  connection  with  the  tribe  and  not 
with  either  parent.  But  the  subject  is  too  large  and  complex  for 

1  Sir  J.  Lubbock,  The  Origin  of  Civilization,  1870,  chap,  iii,  especially 
pp.  60-67.  Mr.  M'Lennan,  in  his  extremely  valuable  work  on  Primitive  Marriage, 
1865,  p.  162,  speaks  of  the  union  of  the  sexes  in  the  earliest  times  as  "loose, 
transitory,  and  in  some  degree  promiscuous."  Mr.  M'Lennan  and  Sir  J.  Lubbock 
have  collected  much  evidence  on  the  extreme  licentiousness  of  savages  at  the 
present  time.  Mr.  L.  H.  Morgan,  in  his  interesting  memoir  on  the  classificatory 
system  of  relationship  (Proceedings  American  Academy  of  Sciences,  February, 
1868,  Vol.  VII,  p.  475),  concludes  that  polygamy  and  all  forms  of  marriage  during 
primeval  times  were  essentially  unknown.  It  appears  also,  from  Sir  J.  Lubbock's 
work,  that  Bachofen  likewise  believes  that  communal  intercourse  originally 
prevailed. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN   RELATION  TO  MAN 


355 


even  an  abstract  to  be  here  given,  and  I  will  confine  myself  to  a 
few  remarks.  It  is  evident  in  the  case  of  such  marriages,  or 
where  the  marriage  tie  is  very  loose,  that  the  relationship  of  the 
child  to  its  father  cannot  be  known.  But  it  seems  almost  incredi- 
ble that  the  relationship  of  the  child  to  its  mother  should  ever 
be  completely  ignored,  especially  as  the  women  in  most  savage 
tribes  nurse  their  infants  for  a  long  time.  Accordingly,  in  many 
cases  the  lines  of  descent  are  traced  through  the  mother  alone, 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  father.  But  in  other  cases  the  terms 
employed  express  a  connection  with  the  tribe  alone,  to  the  exclu- 
sion even  of  the  mother.  It  seems  possible  that  the  connection 
between  the  related  members  of  the  same  barbarous  tribe,  exposed 
to  all  sorts  of  danger,  might  be  so  much  more  important,  owing 
to  the  need  of  mutual  protection  and  aid,  than  that  between  the 
mother  and  her  child,  as  to  lead  to  the  sole  use  of  terms  expressive 
of  the  former  relationships  ;  but  Mr.  Morgan  is  convinced  that 
this  view  is  by  no  means  sufficient. 

The  terms  of  relationship  used  in  different  parts  of  the  world 
may  be  divided,  according  to  the  author  just  quoted,  into  two 
great  classes,  the  classificatory  and  descriptive,  —  the  -latter  being 
employed  by  us.  It  is  the  classificatory  system  which  so  strongly 
leads  to  the  belief  that  communal  and  other  extremely  loose  forms 
of  marriage  were  originally  universal.  But  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
there  is  no  necessity  on  this  ground  for  believing  in  absolutely 
promiscuous  intercourse  ;  and  I  am  glad  to  find  that  this  is  Sir 
J.  Lubbock's  view.  Men  and  women,  like  many  of  the  lower 
animals,  might  formerly  have  entered  into  strict  though  temporary 
unions  for  each  birth,  and  in  this  case  nearly  as  much  confusion 
would  have  arisen  in  the  terms  of  relationship  as  in  the  case  of 
promiscuous  intercourse.  As  far  as  sexual  selection  is  concerned, 
all  that  is  required  is  that  choice  should  be  exerted  before  the 
parents  unite,  and  it  signifies  little  whether  the  unions  last  for 
life  or  only  for  a  season. 

Besides  the  evidence  derived  from  the  terms  of  relationship, 
other  lines  of  reasoning  indicate  the  former  wide  prevalence  of 
communal  marriage.  Sir  J.  Lubbock  accounts1  for  the  strange 

1  Address  to  British  Association,  "  On  the  Social  and  Religious  Condition  of 
the  Lower  Races  of  Man,"  1870,  p.  20. 


356  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  widely  extended  habit  of  exogamy  —  that  is,  the  men  of  one 
tribe  taking  wives  from  a  distinct  tribe  —  by  communism  having 
been  the  original  form  of  intercourse  ;  so  that  a  man  never 
obtained  a  wife  for  himself  unless  he  captured  her  from  a  neigh- 
boring and  hostile  tribe,  and  then  she  would  naturally  have  become 
his  sole  and  valuable  property.  Thus  the  practice  of  capturing 
wives  might  have  arisen ;  and  from  the  honor  so  gained  it  might 
ultimately  have  become  the  universal  habit.  According  to  Sir 
J.  Lubbock,  we  can  also  thus  understand  "the  necessity  of  expia- 
tion for  marriage  as  an  infringement  of  tribal  rites,  since,  accord- 
ing to  old  ideas,  a  man  had  no  right  to  appropriate  to  himself 
that  which  belonged  to  the  whole  tribe."  Sir  J.  Lubbock  further 
gives  a  curious  body  of  facts,  showing  that  in  old  times  high  honor 
was  bestowed  on  women  who  were  utterly  licentious ;  and  this, 
as  he  explains,  is  intelligible,  if  we  admit  that  promiscuous  inter- 
course was  the  aboriginal  and,  therefore,  long  revered  custom  of 
the  tribe.1 

Although  the  manner  of  development  of  the  marriage  tie  is 
an  obscure  subject,  as  we  may  infer  from  the  divergent  opinions 
on  several  points  between  the  three  authors  who  have  studied  it 
most  closely,  namely,  Mr.  Morgan,  Mr.  M'Lennan,  and  Sir  J. 
Lubbock,  yet  from  the  foregoing  and  several  other  lines  of  evi- 
dence it  seems  probable  2  that  the  habit  of  marriage,  in  any  strict 
sense  of  the  word,  has  been  gradually  developed,  and  that  almost 
promiscuous  or  very  loose  intercourse  was  once  extremely  com- 
mon throughout  the  world.  Nevertheless,  from  the  strength  of 
the  feeling  of  jealousy  all  through  the  animal  kingdom,  as  well 
as  from  the  analogy  of  the  lower  animals,  more  particularly  of 
those  which  come  nearest  to  man,  I  cannot  believe  that  absolutely 
promiscuous  intercourse  prevailed  in  times  past,  shortly  before 
man  attained  to  his  present  rank  in  the  zoological  scale.  Man, 

1  Origin  of  Civilization,  1870,  p.  86.    In  the  several  works  above  quoted  there 
will  be  found  copious  evidence  on  relationship  through  the  females  alone,  or 
with  the  tribe  alone. 

2  Mr.  C.  Staniland  Wake  argues  strongly  (A nthr apologia,  March,  1874,  p.  197) 
against  the  views  held  by  these  three  writers  on  the  former  prevalence  of  almost 
promiscuous  intercourse ;  and  he  thinks  that  the  classificatory  system  of  rela- 
tionship can  be  otherwise  explained. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       357 

as  I  have  attempted  to  show,  is  certainly  descended  from  some 
apelike  creature.  With  the  existing  Quadrumana,  as  far  as  their 
habits  are  known,  the  males  of  some  species  are  monogamous, 
but  live  during  only  a  part  of  the  year  with  the  females ;  of  this 
the  orang  seems  to  afford  an  instance.  Several  kinds,  for  example, 
some  of  the  Indian  and  American  monkeys,  are  strictly  monoga- 
mous, and  associate  all  the  year  around  with  their  wives.  Others 
are  polygamous,  for  example,  the  gorilla  and  several  American 
species,  and  each  family  lives  separate.  Even  when  this  occurs, 
the  families  inhabiting  the  same  district  are  probably  somewhat 
social ;  the  chimpanzee,  for  instance,  is  occasionally  met  with  in 
large  bands.  Again,  other  species  are  polygamous,  but  several 
males,  each  with  his  own  females,  live  associated  in  a  body,  as  with 
several  species  of  baboons.1  We  may  indeed  conclude,  from  what 
we  know  of  the  jealousy  of  all  male  quadrupeds,  armed  as  many 
of  them  are  with  special  weapons  for  battling  with  their  rivals, 
that  promiscuous  intercourse  in  a  state  of  nature  is  extremely 
improbable.  The  pairing  may  not  last  for  life,  but  only  for  each 
birth  ;  yet  if  the  males  which  are  the  strongest  and  best  able 
to  defend  or  otherwise  assist  their  females  and  young  were  to 
select  the  more  attractive  females,  this  would  suffice  for  sexual 
selection. 

Therefore,  looking  far  enough  back  in  the  stream  of  time,  and 
judging  from  the  social  habits  of  man  as  he  now  exists,  the  most 
probable  view  is  that  he  aboriginally  lived  in  small  communities, 
each  with  a  single  wife,  or  if  powerful  with  several,  whom  he 
jealously  guarded  against  all  other  men.  Or  he  may  not  have 
been  a  social  animal,  and  yet  have  lived  with  several  wives,  like 
the  gorilla ;  for  all  the  natives  "  agree  that  but  one  adult  male  is 
seen  in  a  band  ;  when  the  young  male  grows  up  a  contest  takes 
place  for  mastery,  and  the  strongest,  by  killing  and  driving  out 
the  others,  establishes  himself  as  the  head  of  the  community."  2 

1  Brehm  (Illust.  Thierleben,  B.  I,  p.  77)  says  Cynocephalus  hamadryas  lives 
in  great  troops  containing  twice   as   many  adult  females  as  adult  males.     See 
Rengger  on  American  polygamous  species,  and  Owen  (Anatomy  of  Vertebrates, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  746)  on   American  monogamous  species.     Other  references  might 
be  added. 

2  Dr.  Savage,  in  Boston  Journal  of  Natural  History,  1845-1847,  Vol.  V,  p.  423. 


358  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  younger  males,  being  thus  expelled  and  wandering  about, 
would,  when  at  last  successful  in  finding  a  partner,  prevent  too 
close  interbreeding  within  the  limits  of  the  same  family. 

Although  savages  are  now  extremely  licentious,  and  although 
communal  marriages  may  formerly  have  largely  prevailed,  yet 
many  tribes  practice  some  form  of  marriage,  but  of  a  far  more  lax 
nature  than  that  of  civilized  nations.  Polygamy,  as  just  stated, 
is  almost  universally  followed  by  the  leading  men  in  every  tribe. 
Nevertheless  there  are  tribes  standing  almost  at  the  bottom  of 
the  scale  which  are  strictly  monogamous.  This  is  the  case  with 
the  Veddahs  of  Ceylon  ;  they  have  a  saying,  according  to  Sir  J. 
Lubbock,1  "that  death  alone  can  separate  husband  and  wife." 
An  intelligent  Kandyan  chief,  of  course  a  polygamist,  "  was  per- 
fectly scandalized  at  the  utter  barbarism  of  living  with  only  one 
wife,  and  never  parting  until  separated  by  death."  It  was,  he 
said,  "just  like  the  Wanderoo  monkeys."  Whether  savages  who 
now  enter  into  some  form  of  marriage,  either  polygamous  or 
monogamous,  have  retained  this  habit  from  primeval  times,  or 
whether  they  have  returned  to  some  form  of  marriage  after  pass- 
ing through  a  stage  of  promiscuous  intercourse,  I  will  not  pretend 
to  conjecture. 

Infanticide 

This  practice  is  now  very  common  throughout  the  world,  and 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  prevailed  much  more  extensively 
during  former  times.2  Barbarians  find  it  difficult  to  support  them- 
selves and  their  children,  and  it  is  a  simple  plan  to  kill  their 
infants.  In  South  America  some  tribes,  according  to  Azara, 
formerly  destroyed  so  many  infants  of  both  sexes  that  they  were 
on  the  point  of  extinction.  In  the  Polynesian  Islands  women 
have  been  known  to  kill  from  four  or  five  to  even  ten  of  their 
children ;  and  Ellis  could  not  find  a  single  woman  who  had  not 
killed  at  least  one.  Wherever  infanticide  prevails  the  struggle 
for  existence  will  be  in  so  far  less  severe,  and  all  the  members  of 
the  tribe  will  have  an  almost  equally  good  chance  of  rearing  their 

1  Prehistoric  Times,  1869,  p.  424. 

2  Mr.   M'Lennan,  Primitive  Marriage,   1865.     See  especially  on  exogamy  and 
infanticide,  ibid.,  pp.  130,  138,  165. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN 


359 


few  surviving  children.  In  most  cases  a  larger  number  of  female 
than  of  male  infants  are  destroyed,  for  it  is  obvious  that  the  latter 
are  of  more  value  to  the  tribe,  as  they  will,  when  grown  up,  aid 
in  defending  it,  and  can  support  themselves.  But  the  trouble 
experienced  by  the  women  in  rearing  children,  their  consequent 
loss  of  beauty,  the  higher  estimation  set  on  them  when  few,  and 
their  happier  fate,  are  assigned  by  the  women  themselves  and 
by  various  observers  as  additional  motives  for  infanticide.  In 
Australia,  where  female  infanticide  is  still  common,  Sir  G.  Grey 
estimated  the  proportion  of  native  women  to  men  as  one  to  three ; 
but  others  say  as  two  to  three.  In  a  village  on  the  eastern 
frontier  of  India,  Colonel  McCulloch  found  not  a  single  female 
child.1 

When,  owing  to  female  infanticide,  the  women  of  a  tribe  were 
few,  the  habit  of  capturing  wives  from  neighboring  tribes  would 
naturally  arise.  Sir  J.  Lubbock,  however,  as  we  have  seen,  attrib- 
utes the  practice,  in  chief  part,  to  the  former  existence  of  com- 
munal marriage,  and  to  the  men  having  consequently  captured 
women  from  other  tribes  to  hold  as  their  sole  property.  Addi- 
tional causes  might  be  assigned,  such  as  the  communities  being 
very  small,  in  which  case  marriageable  women  would  often  be 
deficient.  That  the  habit  was  most  extensively  practiced  during 
former  times,  even  by  the  ancestors  of  civilized  nations,  is  clearly 
shown  by  the  preservation  of  many  curious  customs  and  cere- 
monies, of  which  Mr.  M'Lennan  has  given  an  interesting  account. 
In  our  own  marriages  the  "best  man  "  seems  originally  to  have 
been  the  chief  abettor  of  the  bridegroom  in  the  act  of  capture. 
Now  as  long  as  men  habitually  procured  their  wives  through 
violence  and  craft,  they  would  have  been  glad  to  seize  on  any 
woman,  and  would  not  have  selected  the  more  attractive  ones. 
But  as  soon  as  the  practice  of  procuring  wives  from  a  distinct 
tribe  was  effected  through  barter,  as  now  occurs  in  many  places, 
the  more  attractive  women  would  generally  have  been  purchased. 

1  Dr.  Gerland  (Ueber  das  Aussterben  der  Naturvblker,  1868)  has  collected 
much  information  on  infanticide.  See  especially  ibid.,  s.  27,  51,  54.  Azara  (Voy- 
ages, etc.,  Tome  II,  pp.  94,  116)  enters  in  detail  on  the  motives.  See  also 
M'Lennan  (Primitive  Marriage,  p.  139)  for  cases  in  India. 


360  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  incessant  crossing,  however,  between  tribe  and  tribe,  which 
necessarily  follows  from  any  form  of  this  habit,  would  tend  to 
keep  all  the  people  inhabiting  the  same  country  nearly  uniform 
in  character,  and  this  would  interfere  with  the  power  of  sexual 
selection  in  differentiating  the  tribes. 

The  scarcity  of  women  consequent  on  female  infanticide  leads 
also  to  another  practice,  that  of  polyandry,  still  common  in  sev- 
eral parts  of  the  world,  and  which  formerly,  as  Mr.  M'Lennan 
believes,  prevailed  almost  universally;  but  this  latter  conclusion 
is  doubted  by  Mr.  Morgan  and  Sir  J.  Lubbock.1  Whenever  two 
or  more  men  are  compelled  to  marry  one  woman,  it  is  certain 
that  all  the  women  of  the  tribe  will  get  married,  and  there  will 
be  no  selection  by  the  men  of  the  more  attractive  women.  But 
under  these  circumstances  the  women  no  doubt  will  have  the 
power  of  choice,  and  will  prefer  the  more  attractive  men.  Azara, 
for  instance,  describes  how  carefully  a  Guana  woman  bargains  for 
all  sorts  of  privileges  before  accepting  some  one  or  more  hus- 
bands ;  and  the  men  in  consequence  take  unusual  care  of  their 
personal  appearance.  So  among  the  Todas  of  India,  who  prac- 
tice polyandry,  the  girls  can  accept  or  refuse  any  man.2  A  very 
ugly  man  in  these  cases  would  perhaps  altogether  fail  in  getting  a 
wife,  or  get  one  later  in  life  ;  but  the  handsomer  men,  although 
more  successful  in  obtaining  wives,  would  not,  as  far  as  we  can 
see,  leave  more  offspring  to  inherit  their  beauty  than  the  less 
handsome  husbands  of  the  same  women. 

Early  Betrothals  and  Slavery  of  Women 

With  many  savages  it  is  the  custom  to  betroth  the  females 
while  mere  infants  ;  and  this  would  effectually  prevent  preference 
being  exerted  on  either  side,  according  to  personal  appearance. 
But  it  would  not  prevent  the  more  attractive  women  from  being 
afterward  stolen  or  taken  by  force  from  their  husbands  by 
the  more  powerful  men ;  and  this  often  happens  in  Australia, 

1  Primitive  Marriage,  p.  208;  Sir  J.  Lubbock,  Origin  of  Civilization,  p.  100. 
See  also  Mr.  Morgan,  loc.  «'/.,  on  the  former  prevalence  of  polyandry. 

2  Azara,  Voyages,  etc.,  Tome  II,  pp.  92-95 ;  Colonel  Marshall,  Among  the  Todas, 

p.  212. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       361 

America,  and  elsewhere.  The  same  consequences  with  reference 
to  sexual  selection  would  to  a  certain  extent  follow  when  women 
are  valued  almost  solely  as  slaves  or  beasts  of  burden,  as  is 
the  case  with  many  savages.  The  men,  however,  at  all  times, 
would  prefer  the  handsomest  slaves,  according  to  their  standard 
of  beauty. 

We  thus  see  that  several  customs  prevail  with  savages  which 
must  greatly  interfere  with,  or  completely  stop,  the  action  of 
sexual  selection.  On  the  other  hand,  the  conditions  of  life  to 
which  savages  are  exposed,  and  some  of  their  habits,  are  favorable 
to  natural  selection  ;  and  this  comes  into  play  at  the  same  time 
with  sexual  selection.  Savages  are  known  to  suffer  severely  from 
recurrent  famines  ;  they  do  not  increase  their  food  by  artificial 
means  ;  they  rarely  refrain  from  marriage,1  and  generally  marry 
while  young.  Consequently  they  must  be  subjected  to  occasional 
hard  struggles  for  existence,  and  the  favored  individuals  will 
alone  survive. 

At  a  very  early  period,  before  man  attained  to  his  present  rank 
in  the  scale,  many  of  his  conditions  would  be  different  from  what 
now  obtain  among  savages.  Judging  from  the  analogy  of  the 
lower  animals,  he  would  then  either  live  with  a  single  female  or 
be  a  polygamist.  The  most  powerful  and  able  males  would 
succeed  best  in  obtaining  attractive  females.  They  would  also  suc- 
ceed best  in  the  general  struggle  for  life,  and  in  defending  their 
females,  as  well  as  their  offspring,  from  enemies  of  all  kinds.  At 
this  early  period  the  ancestors  of  man  would  not  be  sufficiently 
advanced  in  intellect  to  look  forward  to  distant  contingencies  ; 
they  would  not  foresee  that  the  rearing  of  all  their  children, 
especially  their  female  children,  would  make  the  struggle  for  life 
severer  for  the  tribe.  They  would  be  governed  more  by  their 
instincts  and  less  by  their  reason  than  are  savages  at  the  present 
day.  They  would  not  at  that  period  have  partially  lost  one  of 
the  strongest  of  all  instincts,  common  to  all  the  lower  animals, 

1  Burchell  says  (Travels  in  South  Africa,  1824,  Vol.  II,  p.  58)  that  among  the 
wild  nations  of  southern  Africa  neither  men  nor  women  ever  pass  their  lives  in 
a  state  of  celibacy.  Azara  (Voyages  dans  1'Amerique  Meridien,  Tome  II,  1809, 
p.  21)  makes  precisely  the  same  remark  in  regard  to  the  wild  Indians  of  South 
America. 


362  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

namely,  the  love  of  their  young  offspring ;  and  consequently  they 
would  not  have  practiced  female  infanticide.  Women  would  not 
have  been  thus  rendered  scarce,  and  polyandry  would  not  have 
been  practiced;  for  hardly  any  other  cause,  except  the  scarcity 
of  women,  seems  sufficient  to  break  down  the  natural  and  widely 
prevalent  feeling  of  jealousy,  and  the  desire  of  each  male  to 
possess  a  female  for  himself.  Polyandry  would  be  a  natural  step- 
ping-stone to  communal  marriages  or  almost  promiscuous  inter- 
course, though  the  best  authorities  believe  that  this  latter  habit 
preceded  polyandry.  During  primordial  times  there  would  be  no 
early  betrothals,  for  this  implies  foresight.  Nor  would  women  be 
valued  merely  as  useful  slaves  or  beasts  of  burden.  Both  sexes, 
if  the  females  as  well  as  the  males  were  permitted  to  exert  any 
choice,  would  choose  their  partners  not  for  mental  charms  or 
property  or  social  position,  but  almost  solely  from  external 
appearance.  All  the  adults  would  marry  or  pair,  and  all  the  off- 
spring, as  far  as  that  was  possible,  would  be  reared,  so  that  the 
struggle  for  existence  would  be  periodically  excessively  severe. 
Thus  during  these  times  all  the  conditions  for  sexual  selection 
would  have  been  more  favorable  than  at  a  later  period,  when 
man  had  advanced  in  his  intellectual  powers  but  had  retrograded 
in  his  instincts.  Therefore,  whatever  influence  sexual  selection 
may  have  had  in  producing  the  differences  between  the  races  of 
man,  and  between  man  and  the  higher  Quadrumana,  this  influ- 
ence would  have  been  more  powerful  at  a  remote  period  than  at 
the  present  day,  though  probably  not  yet  wholly  lost. 

The  Manner  of  Action  of  Sexual  Selection  with  Mankind 

With  primeval  men  under  the  favorable  conditions  just  stated, 
and  with  those  savages  who  at  the  present  time  enter  into  any 
marriage  tie,  sexual  selection  has  probably  acted  in  the  following 
manner,  subject  to  greater  or  less  interference  from  female 
infanticide,  early  betrothals,  etc.  The  strongest  and  most  vigor- 
ous men  —  those  who  could  best  defend  and  hunt  for  their 
families,  who  were  provided  with  the  best  weapons  and  possessed 
the  most  property,  such  as  a  large  number  of  dogs  or  other  animals, 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       363 

—  would  succeed  in  rearing  a  greater  average  number  of  offspring 
than  the  weaker  and  poorer  members  of  the  same  tribes.  There 
can  also  be  no  doubt  that  such  men  would  generally  be  able  to 
select  the  more  attractive  women.  At  present  the  chiefs  of  nearly 
every  tribe  throughout  the  world  succeed  in  obtaining  more  than 
one  wife.  I  hear  from  Mr.  Mantell,  that  until  recently  almost 
every  girl  in  New  Zealand,  who  was  pretty  or  promised  to  be  pretty, 
was  tapu  to  some  chief.  With  the  Kafirs,  as  Mr.  C.  Hamilton 
states,1  "  the.  chiefs  generally  have  the  pick  of  the  women 
for  many  miles  round,  and  are  most  persevering  in  establishing 
or  confirming  their  privilege."  We  have  seen  that  each  race 
has  its  own  style  of  beauty,  and  we  know  that  it  is  natural  to 
man  to  admire  each  characteristic  point  in  his  domestic  animals, 
dress,  ornaments,  and  personal  appearance,  when  carried  a  little 
beyond  the  average.  If,  then,  the  several  foregoing  propositions 
be  admitted,  —  and  I  cannot  see  that  they  are  doubtful,  —  it 
would  be  an  inexplicable  circumstance,  if  the  selection  of  the 
more  attractive  women  by  the  more  powerful  men  of  each  tribe, 
who  would  rear  on  an  average  a  greater  number  of  children,  did 
not  after  the  lapse  of  many  generations  somewhat  modify  the 
character  of  the  tribe. 

•  When  a  foreign  breed  of  our  domestic  animals  is  introduced 
into  a  new  country,  or  when  a  native  breed  is  long  and  carefully 
attended  to,  either  for  use  or  ornament,  it  is  found  after  several 
generations  to  have  undergone  a  greater  or  less  amount  of  change, 
whenever  the  means  of  corhparison  exist.  This  follows  from  un- 
conscious selection  during  a  long  series  of  generations  —  that 
is,  the  preservation  of  the  most  approved  individuals  —  without 
any  wish  or  expectation  of  such  a  result  on  the  part  of  the 
breeder.  So  again,  if  during  many  years  two  careful  breeders 
rear  animals  of  the  same  family,  and  do  not  compare  them 
together  or  with  a  common  standard,  the  animals  are  found  to 
have  become,  to  the  surprise  of  their  owners,  slightly  different.2 
Each  breeder  has  impressed,  as  Von  Nathusius  well  expresses  it, 

1  Anthropological  Review,  January,  1870,  p.  xvi. 

2  The   Variation   of    Animals    and    Plants    under    Domestication,   VoL   II, 
pp.  210-217. 


364  SOCIOLOGY  AND  ^OCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  character  of  his  own  mind  —  his  own  taste  and  judgment  — 
on  his  animals.  What  reason,  then,  can  be  assigned  why  similar 
results  should  not  follow  from  the  long-continued  selection  of 
the  most  admired  women  by  those  men  of  each  tribe  who  were 
able  to  rear  the  greatest  number  of  children  ?  This  would  be 
unconscious  selection,  for  an  effect  would  be  produced,  independ- 
ently of  any  wish  or  expectation  on  the  part  of  the  men  who 
preferred  certain  women  to  others. 

Let  us  suppose  the  members  of  a  tribe,  practicing  some  form 
of  marriage,  to  spread  over  an  unoccupied  continent ;  they  would 
soon  split  up  into  distinct  hordes,  separated  from  each  other  by 
various  barriers,  and  still  more  effectually  by  the  incessant  wars 
between  all  barbarous  nations.  The  hordes  .would  thus  be  exposed 
to  slightly  different  conditions  and  habits  of  life,  and  would  sooner 
or  later  come  to  differ  in  some  small  degree.  As  soon  as  this 
occurred,  each  isolated  tribe  would  form  for  itself  a  slightly  dif- 
ferent standard  of  beauty ; 1  and  then  unconscious  selection  would 
come  into  action  through  the  more  powerful  and  leading  men  pre- 
ferring certain  women  to  others.  Thus  the  differences  between 
the  tribes,  at  first  very  slight,  would  gradually  and  inevitably  be 
more  or  less  increased. 

With  animals  in  a  state  of  nature,  many  characters  proper  to» 
the  males,  such  as  size,  strength,  special  weapons,  courage,  and 
pugnacity,  have  been  acquired  through  the  law  of  battle.  The 
semihuman  progenitors  of  man,  like  their  allies  the  Quadrumana, 
will  almost  certainly  have  been  thus  modified ;  and  as  savages 
still  fight  for  the  possession  of  their  women,  a  similar  process  of 
selection  has  probably  gone  on  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  to  the 
present  day.  Other  characters  proper  to  the  males  of  the  lower 
animals,  such  as  bright  colors  and  various  ornaments,  have  been 
acquired  by  the  more  attractive  males  having  been  preferred  by 
the  females.  There  are,  however,  exceptional  cases  in  which  the 
males  are  the  selectors,  instead  of  having  been  the  selected.  We 

1  An  ingenious  writer  argues,  from  a  comparison  of  the  pictures  of  Raphael, 
Rubens,  and  modern  French  artists,  that  the  idea  of  beauty  is  not  absolutely  the 
same  even  throughout  Europe.  See  the  Lives  of  Haydn  and  Mozart,  by  Bombet 
(otherwise  M.  Beyle),  English  translation,  p.  278. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       365 

recognize  such  cases  by  the  females  being  more  highly  ornamented 
than  the  males,  —  their  ornamental  characters  having  been  trans- 
mitted exclusively  or  chiefly  to  their  female  offspring.  One  such 
case  has  been  described  in  the  order  to  which  man  belongs,  that 
of  the  rhesus  monkey. 

Man  is  more  powerful  in  body  and  mind  than  woman,  and  in 
the  savage  state  he  keeps  her  in  a  far  more  abject  state  of  bond- 
age than  does  the  male  of  any  other  animal ;  therefore  it  is  not 
surprising  that  he  should  have  gained  the  power  of  selection. 
Women  are  everywhere  conscious  of  the  value  of  their  own 
beauty ;  and  when  they  have  the  means,  they  take  more  delight 
in  decorating  themselves  with  all  sorts  of  ornaments  than  do  men. 
They  borrow  the  plumes  of  male  birds,  with  which  nature  has 
decked  this  sex  in  order  to  charm  the  females.  As  women  have 
long  been  selected  for  beauty,  it  is  not  surprising  that  some  of 
their  successive  variations  should  have  been  transmitted  exclu- 
sively to  the  same  sex ;  consequently  that  they  should  have 
transmitted  beauty  in  a  somewhat  higher  degree  to  their  female 
than  to  their  male  offspring,  and  thus  have  become  more  beauti- 
ful, according  to  general  opinion,  than  men.  Women,  however, 
certainly  transmit  most  of  their  characters,  including  some  beauty, 
to  their  offspring  of  both  sexes,  so  that  the  continued  preference 
by  the  men  of  each  race  for  the  more  attractive  women,  accord- 
ing to  their  standard  of  taste,  will  have  tended  to  modify  in 
the  same  manner  all  the  individuals  of  both  sexes  belonging  to 
the  race. 

With  respect  to  the  other  form  of  sexual  selection  (which  with 
the  lower  animals  is  much  the  more  common),  namely,  when  the 
females  are  the  selectors,  and  accept  only  those  males  which 
excite  or  charm  them  most,  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  it 
formerly  acted  on  our  progenitors.  Man  in  all  probability  owes  his 
beard,  and  perhaps  some  other  characters,  to  inheritance  from 
an  ancient  progenitor  who  thus  gained  his  ornaments.  But  this 
form  of  selection  may  have  occasionally  acted  during  later  times  ; 
for  in  utterly  barbarous  tribes  the  women  have  more  power  in 
choosing,  rejecting,  and  tempting  their  lovers,  or  of  afterward 
changing  their  husbands,  than  might  have  been  expected.  As 


366  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

this  is  a  point  of  some  importance,  I  will  give  in  detail  such 
evidence  as  I  have  collected. 

Hearne  describes  how  a  woman  in  one  of  the  tribes  of  Arctic 
America  repeatedly  ran  away  from  her  husband  and  joined  her 
lover ;  and  with  the  Charruas  of  South  America,  according  to 
Azara,  divorce  is  quite  optional.  Among  the  Abipones,  a  man 
on  choosing  a  wife  bargains  with  the  parents  about  the  price. 
But  "  it  frequently  happens  that  the  girl  rescinds  what  has  been 
agreed  upon  between  the  parents  and  the  bridegroom,  obstinately 
rejecting  the  very  mention  of  marriage."  She  often  runs  away, 
hides  herself,  and  thus  eludes  the  bridegroom.  Captain  Musters, 
who  lived  with  the  Patagonians,  says  that  their  marriages  are 
always  settled  by  inclination  ;  "if  the  parents  make  a  match  con- 
trary to  the  daughter's  will,  she  refuses  and  is  never  compelled 
to  comply."  In  Tierra  del  Fuego  a  young  man  first  obtains  the 
consent  of  the  parents  by  doing  them  some  service,  and  then  he 
attempts  to  carry  off  the  girl ;  "  but  if  she  is  unwilling,  she  hides 
herself  in  the  woods  until  her  admirer  is  heartily  tired  of  looking 
for  her,  and  gives  up  the  pursuit ;  but  this  seldom  happens."  In 
the  Fiji  Islands  the  man  seizes  on  the  woman  whom  he  wishes 
for  his  wife  by  actual  or  pretended  force ;  but  "  on  reaching  the 
home  of  her  abductor,  should  she  not  approve  of  the  match,  she 
runs  to  some  one  who  can  protect  her ;  if,  however,  she  is  satis- 
fied, the  matter  is  settled  forthwith."  With  the  Kalmucks  there 
is  a  regular  race  between  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  the  former 
having  a  fair  start ;  and  Clarke  "  was  assured  that  no  instance 
occurs  of  a  girl  being  caught,  unless  she  has  a  partiality  to  the 
pursuer."  Among  the  wild  tribes  of  the  Malay  Archipelago 
there  is  also  a  racing  match  ;  and  it  appears  from  M.  Bourien's 
account,  as  Sir  J.  Lubbock  remarks,  that  "the  race  'is  not  to  the 
swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong,'  but  to  the  young  man  who 
has  the  good  fortune  to  please  his  intended  bride."  A  similar 
custom,  with  the  same  result,  prevails  with  the  Koraks  of  north- 
eastern Asia. 

Turning  to  Africa :  the  Kafirs  buy  their  wives,  and  girls  are 
severely  beaten  by  their  fathers  if  they  will  not  accept  a  chosen 
husband ;  but  it  is  manifest  from  many  facts  given  by  the  Rev. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       367 

Mr.  Shooter,  that  they  have  considerable  power  of  choice.  Thus, 
very  ugly  though  rich  men  have  been  known  to  fail  in  getting 
wives.  The  girls,  before  consenting  to  be  betrothed,  compel  the 
men  to  show  themselves  off  first  in  front  and  then  behind,  and 
"exhibit  their  paces."  They  have  been  known  to  propose  to  a 
man,  and  they  not  rarely  run  away  with  a  favored  lover.  So 
again,  Mr.  Leslie,  who  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  Kafirs, 
says,  "  It  is  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  a  girl  is  sold  by  her  father 
in  the  same  manner,  and  with  the  same  authority,  with  which  he 
would  dispose  of  a  cow."  Among  the  degraded  Bushmen  of 
South  Africa,  "  when  a  girl  has  grown  up  to  womanhood  without 
having  been  betrothed,  which,  however,  does  not  often  happen, 
her  lover  must  gain  her  approbation,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
parents."  l  Mr.  Winwood  Reade  made  inquiries  for  me  with 
respect  to  the  negroes  of  western  Africa,  and  he  informs  me 
that  "  the  women,  at  least  among  the  more  intelligent  pagan 
tribes,  have  no  difficulty  in  getting  the  husbands  whom  they 
may  desire,  although  it  is  considered  unwomanly  to  ask  a  man  to 
marry  them.  They  are  quite  capable  of  falling  in  love,  and  of 
forming  tender,  passionate,  and  faithful  attachments."  Additional 
cases  could  be  given. 

We  thus  see  that  with  savages  the  women  are  not  in  quite  so 
abject  a  state  in  relation  to  marriage  as  has  often  been  supposed. 
They  can  tempt  the  men  whom  they  prefer,  and  can  sometimes 
reject  those  whom  they  dislike,  either  before  or  after  marriage. 
Preference  on  the  part  of  the  women,  steadily  acting  in  any  one 
direction,  would  ultimately  affect  the  character  of  the  tribe ;  for 
the  women  would  generally  choose  not  merely  the  handsomest 

1  Azara,  Voyages,  etc.,  Tome  II,  p.  23.  Dobrizhoffer,  An  Account  of  the  Abi- 
pones,  1822,  Vol.  II,  p.  207.  Captain  Musters,  in  Proceedings  Royal  Geographical 
Society,  Vol.  XV,  p.  47.  Williams  on  the  Fiji  Islanders,  as  quoted  by  Lubbock 
in  Origin  of  Civilization,  1870,  p.  79.  On  the  Fuegians,  see  King  and  FitzRoy, 
Voyages  of  the  Adventure  and  Beagle,  1839,  Vol.  II,  p.  182.  On  the  Kalmucks, 
quoted  by  M'Lennan  in  Primitive  Marriage,  1865,  p.  32.  On  the  Malays,  see  Lub- 
bock, Origin  of  Civilization,  p.  76.  The  Rev.  J.  Shooter,  On  the  Kafirs  of  Natal, 
1857,  pp.  52-60.  Mr.  D.  Leslie,  Kafir  Character  and  Customs,  1871,  p.  4.  On 
the  Bushmen,  Burchell,  Travels  in  South  Africa,  1824,  Vol.  II,  p.  59.  On 
the  Koraks  by  McKennan,  as  quoted  by  Mr.  Wake,  in  Anthropologia,  October, 
1873.  P-  75- 


368  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

men,  according  to  their  standard  of  taste,  but  those  who  were  at 
the  same  time  best  able  to  defend  and  support  them.  Such  well- 
endowed  pairs  would  commonly  rear  a  larger  number  of  offspring 
than  the  less  favored.  The  same  result  would  obviously  follow 
in  a  still  more  marked  manner,  if  there  was  selection  on  both 
sides  ;  that  is,  if  the  more  attractive  and,  at  the  same  time,  more 
powerful  men  were  to  prefer,  and  were  preferred  by,  the  more 
attractive  women.  And  this  double  form  of  selection  seems 
actually  to  have  occurred,  especially  during  the  earlier  periods  of 
our  long  history. 

We  will  now  examine  a  little  more  closely  some  of  the  charac- 
ters which  distinguish  the  several  races  of  man  from  one  another 
and  from  the  lower  animals,  namely,  the  greater  or  less  deficiency 
of  hair  on  the  body,  and  the  color  of  the  skin.  We  need  say 
nothing  about  the  great  diversity  in  the  shape  of  the  features 
and  of  the  skull  between  the  different  races,  as  we  have  seen 
already  how  different  is  the  standard  of  beauty  in  these  respects. 
These  characters  will  therefore  probably  have  been  acted  on 
through  sexual  selection ;  but  we  have  no  means  of  judging 
whether  they  have  been  acted  on  chiefly  from  the  male  or 
female  side.  The  musical  faculties  of  man  have  likewise  been 
already  discussed. 

Absence  of  Hair  on  the  Body,  and  its  Development  on  the  Face 

and  Head 

From  the  presence  of  the  woolly  hair  or  lanugo  on  the  human 
foetus,  and  of  rudimentary  hairs  scattered  over  the  body  during 
maturity,  we  may  infer  that  man  is  descended  from  some  animal 
which  was  born  hairy  and  remained  so  during  life.  The  loss  of 
hair  is  an  inconvenience  and  probably  an  injury  to  man,  even  in 
a  hot  climate,  for  he  is  thus  exposed  to  the  scorching  of  the  sun, 
and  to  sudden  chills,  especially  during  wet  weather.  As  Mr. 
Wallace  remarks,  the  natives  in  all  countries  are  glad  to  protect 
their  naked  backs  and  shoulders  with  some  slight  covering.  No 
one  supposes  that  the  nakedness  of  the  skin  is  any  direct  advan- 
tage to  man ;  his  body  therefore  cannot  have  been  divested  of 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       369 

hair  through  natural  selection.1  Nor  have  we  any  evidence  that 
this  can  be  due  to  the  direct  action  of  climate,  or  that  it  is  the 
result  of  correlated  development. 

The  absence  of  hair  on  the  body  is  to  a  certain  extent  a 
secondary  sexual  character  ;  for  in  all  parts  of  the  world  women 
are  less  hairy  than  men.  Therefore  we  may  reasonably  suspect 
that  this  character  has  been  gained  through  sexual  selection.  We 
know  that  the  faces  of  several  species  of  monkeys  and  large  sur- 
faces at  the  posterior  end  of  the  body  of  other  species  have  been 
denuded  of  hair;  and  this  we  may  safely  attribute  to  sexual 
selection,  for  these  surfaces  are  not  only  vividly  colored  but 
sometimes,  as  with  the  male  mandrill  and  female  rhesus,  much 
more  vividly  in  the  one  sex  than  in  the  other,  especially  during 
the  breeding  season.  I  am  informed  by  Mr.  Bartlett  that,  as 
these  animals  gradually  reach  maturity,  the  naked  surfaces  grow 
larger  compared  with  the  size  of  their  bodies.  The  hair,  how- 
ever, appears  to  have  been  removed,  not  for  the  sake  of  nudity 
but  that  the  color  of  the  skin  may  be  more  fully  displayed.  So 
again  with  many  birds,  it  appears  as  if  the  head  and  neck  had 
been  divested  of  feathers  through  sexual  selection,  to  exhibit  the 
brightly  colored  skin. 

As  the  body  in  woman  is  less  hairy  than  in  man,  and  as  this 
character  is  common  to  all  races,  we  may  conclude  that  it  was 
our  female  semihuman  ancestors  who  were  first  divested  of  hair, 
and  that  this  occurred  at  an  extremely  remote  period  before  the 
several  races  had  diverged  from  a  common  stock.  While  our 
female  ancestors  were  gradually  acquiring  this  new  character  of 
nudity,  they  must  have  transmitted  it  almost  equally  to  their  off- 
spring of  both  sexes  while  young,  so  that  its  transmission,  as 
with  the  ornaments  of  many  mammals  and  birds,  has  not  been 

1  Contributions  to  the  Theory  of  Natural  Selection,  1870^.346.  Mr.  Wallace 
believes  (p.  350)  "that  some  intelligent  power  has  guided  or  determined  the 
development  of  man  " ;  and  he  considers  the  hairless  condition  of  the  skin  as 
coming  under  this  head.  The  Rev.  T.  R.  Stebbing,  in  commenting  on  this  view 
(Transactions  of  Devonshire  Association  for  Science,  1870),  remarks  that  had 
Mr.  Wallace  "  employed  his  usual  ingenuity  on  the  question  of  man's  hairless 
skin,  he  might  have  seen  the  possibility  of  its  selection  through  its  superior 
beauty  or  the  health  attaching  to  superior  cleanliness." 


370  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

limited  either  by  sex  or  age.  There  is  nothing  surprising  in  a 
partial  loss  of  hair  having  been  esteemed  as  an  ornament  by  our 
apelike  progenitors,  for  we  have  seen  that  innumerable  strange 
characters  have  been  thus  esteemed  by  animals  of  all  kinds,  and 
have  consequently  been  gained  through  sexual  selection.  Nor  is 
it  surprising  that  a  slightly  injurious  character  should  have  been 
thus  acquired  ;  for  we  know  that  this  is  the  case  with  the  plumes 
of  certain  birds,  and  with  the  horns  of  certain  stags. 

The  females  of  some  of  the  anthropoid  apes  are  somewhat 
less  hairy  on  the  under  surface  than  the  males ;  and  here  we 
have  what  might  have  afforded  a  commencement  for  the  process 
of  denudation.  With  respect  to  the  completion  of  the  pro- 
cess through  sexual  selection,  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  the  New 
Zealand  proverb,  "There  is  no  woman  for  a  hairy  man."  All 
who  have  seen  photographs  of  the  Siamese  hairy  family  will  admit 
how  ludicrously  hideous  is  the  opposite  extreme  of  excessive 
hairiness.  And  the  king  of  Siam  had  to  bribe  a  man  to  marry 
the  first  hairy  woman  in  the  family;  and  she  transmitted  this 
character  to  her  young  offspring  of  both  sexes.1 

Some  races  are  much  more  hairy  than  others,  especially  the 
males ;  but  it  must  not  be  assumed  that  the  more  hairy  races, 
such  as  the  European,  have  retained  their  primordial  condition 
more  completely  than  the  naked  races,  such  as  the  Kalmucks  or 
Americans.  It  is  more  probable  that  the  hairiness  of  the  former 
is  due  to  partial  reversion  ;  for  characters  which  have  been  at 
some  former  period  long  inherited  are  always  apt  to  return.  We 
have  seen  that  idiots  are  often  very  hairy,  and  they  are  apt  to 
revert  in  other  characters  to  a  lower  animal  type.  It  does  not 
appear  that  a  cold  climate  has  been  influential  in  leading  to  this 
kind  of  reversion,  excepting  perhaps  with  the  negroes,  who  have 
been  reared  during  several  generations  in  the  United  States,2 
and  possibly  with  the  Ainos,  who  inhabit  the  northern  islands  of 

1  The  Variation  of  Animals  and  Plants  under  Domestication,  1868,  Vol.  II, 

P-  327- 

2  Investigations  into  Military  and  Anthropological  Statistics  of  American  Sol- 
diers, by  B.  A.  Gould,  1869,  p.  568:    Observations  were  carefully  made  on  the 
hairiness  of  2129  black  and  colored  soldiers  while  they  were  bathing;  and  by 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       371 

the  Japan  Archipelago.  But  the  laws  of  inheritance  are  so  com- 
plex that  we  can  seldom  understand  their  action.  If  the  greater 
hairiness  of  certain  races  be  the  result  of  reversion,  unchecked 
by  any  form  of  selection,  its  extreme  variability,  even  within  the 
limits  of  the  same  race,  ceases  to  be  remarkable.1 

With  respect  to  the  beard  in  man,  if  we  turn  to  our  best  guide, 
the  Quadrumana,  we  find  beards  equally  developed  in  both  sexes 
of  many  species,  but  in  some,  either  confined  to  the  males,  or 
more  developed  in  them  than  in  the  females.  From  this  fact  and 
from  the  curious  arrangement,  as  well  as  the  bright  colors  of  the 
hair  about  the  heads  of  many  monkeys,  it  is  highly  probable,  as 
before  explained,  that  the  males  first  acquired  their  beards  through 
sexual  selection  as  an  ornament,  transmitting  them  in  most  cases 
equally,  or  nearly  so,  to  their  offspring  of  both  sexes.  We  know 
from  Eschricht 2  that  with  mankind  the  female  as  well  as  male 
fetus  is  furnished  with  much  hair  on  the  face,  especially  round 
the  mouth ;  and  this  indicates  that  we  are  descended  from  pro- 
genitors of  whom  both  sexes  were  bearded.  It  appears,  there- 
fore, at  first  sight  probable  that  man  has  retained  his  beard 
from  a  very  early  period,  while  woman  lost  her  beard  at  the  same 
time  that  her  body  became  almost  completely  divested  of  hair. 
Even  the  color  of  our  beards  seems  to  have  been  inherited  from 
an  apelike  progenitor;  for  when  there  is  any  difference  in  tint 
between  the  hair  of  the  head  and  the  beard,  the  latter  is  lighter 

looking  to  the  published  table,  "it  is  manifest  at  a  glance  that  there  is  but  little, 
if  any,  difference  between  the  white  and  the  black  races  in  this  respect."  It  is, 
however,  certain  that  negroes  in  their  native  and  much  hotter  land  of  Africa  have 
remarkably  smooth  bodies.  It  should  be  particularly  observed  that  both  pure 
blacks  and  mulattoes  were  included  in  the  above  enumeration ;  and  this  is  an 
unfortunate  circumstance,  as  in  accordance  with  a  principle,  the  truth  of  which 
I  have  elsewhere  proved,  crossed  races  of  man  would  be  eminently  liable  to  revert 
to  the  primordial  hairy  character  of  their  early  apelike  progenitors. 

1  Hardly  any  view  advanced  in  this  work  has  met  with  so  much  disfavor  (see, 
for  instance,  Spengel,  Die  Fortschritte  des  Darwinismus,  1874,  p.  80)  as  the  above 
explanation  of  the  loss  of  hair  in  mankind  through  sexual  selection  ;  but  none  of 
the  opposed  arguments  seem  to  me  of  much  weight,  in  comparison  with  the  facts 
showing  that  the  nudity  of  the  skin  is  to  a  certain  extent  a  secondary  sexual 
character  in  man  and  in  some  of  the  Quadrumana. 

2  "  Ueber  die   Richtung  der  Haare  am   Menschlichen   Korper,"  in  Mutter's 
Archiv  filr  Anat.  und  Phys.,  1837,  s.  40. 


372  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

colored  in  all  monkeys  and  in  man.  In  those  Quadrumana  in 
which  the  male  has  a  larger  beard  than  that  of  the  female,  it  is 
fully  developed  only  at  maturity,  just  as  with  mankind ;  and  it  is 
possible  that  only  the  later  stages  of  development  have  been 
retained  by  man.  In  opposition  to  this  view  of  the  retention  of 
the  beard  from  an  early  period  is  the  fact  of  its  great  variability 
in  different  races,  and  even  within  the  same  race ;  for  this  indi- 
cates reversion,  long-lost  characters  being  very  apt  to  vary  on 
reappearance. 

Nor  must  we  overlook  the  part  which  sexual  selection  may 
have  played  in  later  times ;  for  we  know  that  with  savages  the 
men  of  the  beardless  races  take  infinite  pains  in  eradicating  every 
hair  from  their  faces  as  something  odious,  while  the  men  of 
the  bearded  races  feel  the  greatest  pride  in  their  beards.  The 
women,  no  doubt,  participate  in  these  feelings,  and  if  so,  sexual 
selection  can  hardly  have  failed  to  have  effected  something  in 
the  course  of  later  times.  It  is  also  possible  that  the  long-contin- 
ued habit  of  eradicating  the  hair  may  have  produced  an  inherited 
effect.  Dr.  Brown-Sequard  has  shown  that  if  certain  animals  are 
operated  on  in  a  particular  manner,  their  offspring  are  affected. 
Further  evidence  could  be  given  of  the  inheritance  of  the  effects 
of  mutilations  ;  but  a  fact  lately  ascertained  by  Mr.  Salvin1  has 
a  more  direct  bearing  on  the  present  question ;  for  he  has  shown 
that  the  motmots,  which  are  known  habitually  to  bite  off  the 
barbs  of  the  two  central  tail  feathers,  have  the  barbs  of  these 
feathers  naturally  somewhat  reduced.2  Nevertheless,  with  man- 
kind, the  habit  of  eradicating  the  beard  and  the  hairs  on  the 
body  would  probably  not  have  arisen  until  these  had  already 
become  by  some  means  reduced. 

It  is  difficult  to  form  any  judgment  as  to  how  the  hair  on  the 
head  became  developed  to  its  present  great  length  in  many  races. 
Eschricht 3  states  that  in  the  human  fetus  the  hair  on  the  face 
during  the  fifth  month  is  longer  than  that  on  the  head ;  and  this 

1  "On  the  Tail  Feathers  of  Momotus,"  in  Proc.  Zoolog.  Soc.,  1873,  P-  429- 

2  Mr.  Sproat  has  suggested  (Scenes  and  Studies  of  Savage  Life,  1868,  p.  25) 
this  same  view.    Some  distinguished  ethnologists,  among  others  M.  Gosse  of 
Geneva,  believe  that  artificial  modifications  of  the  skull  tend  to  be  inherited. 

'  "  Ueber  die  Richtung,  etc.,"  in  Mailer's  Archivfiir  Anat.  und  Phys.,  1837,  s.  40, 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN      373 

indicates  that  our  semihuman  progenitors  were  not  furnished 
with  long  tresses,  which  must  therefore  have  been  a  late  acqui- 
sition. This  is  likewise  indicated  by  the  extraordinary  difference 
in  the  length  of  the  hair  in  the  different  races  ;  in  the  negro 
the  hair  forms  a  mere  curly  mat ;  with  us  it  is  of  great  length, 
and  with  the  American  natives  it  not  rarely  reaches  to  the 
ground.  Some  species  of  Semnopithecus  have  their  heads  cov- 
ered with  moderately  long  hair,  and  this  probably  serves  as 
an  ornament  and  was  acquired  through  sexual  selection.  The 
same  view  may  perhaps  be  extended  to  mankind,  for  we  know 
that  long  tresses  are  now  and  were  formerly  much  admired, 
as  may  be  observed  in  the  works  of  almost  every  poet.  St.  Paul 
says,  "  If  a  woman  have  long  hair,  it  is  a  glory  to  her  "  ;  and 
we  have  seen  that  in  North  America  a  chief  was  elected  solely 
from  the  length  of  his  hair. 

Color  of  the  Skin 

The  best  kind  of  evidence  that  in  man  the  color  of  the  skin 
has  been  modified  through  sexual  selection  is  scanty;  for  in  most 
races  the  sexes  do  not  differ  in  this  respect,  and  only  slightly,  as 
we  have  seen,  in  others.  We  know,  however,  from  the  many 
facts  already  given,  that  the  color  of  the  skin  is  regarded  by  the 
men  of  all  races  as  a  highly  important  element  in  their  beauty,  so 
that  it  is  a  character  which  would  be  likely  to  have  been  modified 
through  selection,  as  has  occurred  in  innumerable  instances  with 
the  lower  animals.  It  seems  at  first  sight  a  monstrous  supposi- 
tion that  the  jet  blackness  of  the  negro  should  have  been  gained 
through  sexual  selection  ;  but  this  view  is  supported  by  various 
analogies,  and  we  know  that  negroes  admire  their  own  color. 
With  mammals,  when  the  sexes  differ  in  color,  the  male  is  often 
black  or  much  darker  than  the  female,  and  it  depends  merely 
on  the  form  of  inheritance  whether  this  or  any  other  tint  is  trans- 
mitted to  both  sexes  or  to  one  alone.  The  resemblance  to  a 
negro  in  miniature  of  Pithecia  satanas,  with  his  jet-black  skin, 
white  rolling  eyeballs,  and  hair  parted  on  the  top  of  the  head,  is 
almost  ludicrous. 


374  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  color  of  the  face  differs  much  more  widely  in  the  various 
kinds  of  monkeys  than  it  does  in  the  races  of  man ;  and  we  have 
some  reason  to  believe  that  the  red,  blue,  orange,  almost  white 
and  black  tints  of  their  skin,  even  when  common  to  both  sexes, 
as  well  as  the  bright  colors  of  their  fur,  and  the  ornamental  tufts 
about  the  head,  have  all  been  acquired  through  sexual  selection. 
As  the  order  of  development  during  growth  generally  indicates  the 
order  in  which  the  characters  of  a  species  have  been  developed 
and  modified  during  previous  generations,  and  as  the  newly  born 
infants  of  the  various  races  of  man  do  not  differ  nearly  as  much 
in  color  as  do  the  adults,  although  their  bodies  are  as  completely 
destitute  of  hair,  we  have  some  slight  evidence  that  the  tints  of 
the  different  races  were  acquired  at  a  period  subsequent  to  the 
removal  of  the  hair,  which  must  have  occurred  at  a  very  early 
period  in  the  history  of  man. 

Summary 

We  may  conclude  that  the  greater  size,  strength,  courage, 
pugnacity,  and  energy  of  man,  in  comparison  with  woman,  were 
acquired  during  primeval  times,  and  have  subsequently  been 
augmented,  chiefly  through  the  contests  of  rival  males  for  the 
possession  of  the  females.  The  greater  intellectual  vigor  and 
power  of  invention  in  man  is  probably  due  to  natural  selection, 
combined  with  the  inherited  effects  of  habit,  for  the  most  able 
men  will  have  succeeded  best  in  defending  and  providing  for 
themselves  and  for  their  wives  and  offspring.  As  far  as  the 
extreme  intricacy  of  the  subject  permits  us  to  judge,  it  appears 
that  our  male  apelike  progenitors  acquired  their  beards  as  an 
ornament  to  charm  or  excite  the  opposite  sex,  and  transmitted 
them  only  to  their  male  offspring.  The  females  apparently  first 
had  their  bodies  denuded  of  hair,  also  as  a  sexual  ornament ;  but 
they  transmitted  this  character  almost  equally  to  both  sexes.  It 
is  not  improbable  that  the  females  were  modified  in  other  respects 
for  the  same  purpose  and  by  the  same  means,  so  that  women  have 
acquired  sweeter  voices  and  become  more  beautiful  than  men. 

It  deserves  attention  that  with  mankind  the  conditions  were  in 
many  respects  much  more  favorable  for  sexual  selection,  during 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       375 

a  very  early  period,  when  man  had  only  just  attained  to  the  rank 
of  manhood,  than  during  later  times.  For  he  would  then,  as  we 
may  safely  conclude,  have  been  guided  more  by  his  instinctive 
passions,  and  less  by  foresight  or  reason.  He  would  have  jeal- 
ously guarded  his  wife  or  wives.  He  would  not  have  practiced 
infanticide,  nor  valued  his  wives  merely  as  useful  slaves,  nor 
have  been  betrothed  to  them  during  infancy.  Hence  we  may 
infer  that  the  races  of  men  were  differentiated,  as  far  as  sexual 
selection  is  concerned,  in  chief  part  at  a  very  remote  epoch ;  and 
this  conclusion  throws  light  on  the  remarkable  fact  that  at  the 
most  ancient  period  of  which  we  have  as  yet  any  record  the 
races  of  man  had  already  come  to  differ  nearly  or  quite  as  much 
as  they  do  at  the  present  day. 

The  views  here  advanced,  on  the  part  which  sexual  selection 
has  played  in  the  history  of  man,  want  scientific  precision.  He 
who  does  not  admit  this  agency  in  the  case  of  the  lower  animals 
will  disregard  all  that  I  have  written  in  the  later  chapters  on  man. 
We  cannot  positively  say  that  this  character,  but  not  that,  has 
been  thus  modified  ;  it  has,  however,  been  shown  that  the  races 
of  man  differ  from  each  other  and  from  their  nearest  allies  in 
certain  characters  which  are  of  no  service  to  them  in  their  daily 
habits  of  life,  and  which  it  is  extremely  probable  would  have  been 
modified  through  sexual  selection.  We  have  seen  that  with  the 
lowest  savages  the  people  of  each  tribe  admire  their  own  charac- 
teristic qualities,  —  the  shape  of  the  head  and  face,  the  squareness 
of  the  cheek  bones,  the  prominence  or  depression  of  the  nose,  the 
color  of  the  skin,  the  length  of  the  hair  on  the  head,  the  absence 
of  hair  on  the  face  and  body,  or  the  presence  of  a  great  beard. 
Hence  these  and  other  such  points  could  hardly  fail  to  be  slowly 
and  gradually  exaggerated,  from  the  more  powerful  and  able  men 
in  each  tribe,  who  would  succeed  in  rearing  the  largest  number 
of  offspring,  having  selected  during  many  generations  for  their 
wives  the  most  strongly  characterized  and  therefore  most  attract- 
ive women.  I  conclude  that  of  all  the  causes  which  have  led 
to  the  differences  in  external  appearance  between  the  races  of 
man,  and  to  a  certain  extent  between  man  and  the  lower  animals, 
sexual  selection  has  been  the  most  efficient. 


376  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

General  Summary  and  Conclusion 

A  brief  summary  will  be  sufficient  to  recall  to  the  reader's 
mind  the  more  salient  points  in  this  work.  Many  of  the  views 
which  have  been  advanced  are  highly  speculative,  and  some  no 
doubt  will  prove  erroneous ;  but  I  have  in  every  case  given  the 
reasons  which  have  led  me  to  one  view  rather  than  to  another. 
It  seemed  worth  while  to  try  how  far  the  principle  of  evolution 
would  throw  light  on  some  of  the  more  complex  problems  in  the 
natural  history  of  man.  False  facts  are  highly  injurious  to  the 
progress  of  science,  for  they  often  endure  long ;  but  false  views, 
if  supported  by  some  evidence,  do  little  harm,  for  every  one 
takes  a  salutary  pleasure  in  proving  their  falseness ;  and  when 
this  is  done  one  path  toward  error  is  closed  and  the  road  to 
truth  is  often  at  the  same  time  opened. 

The  main  conclusion  here  arrived  at,  and  now  held  by  many 
naturalists  who  are  well  competent  to  form  a  sound  judgment,  is 
that  man  is  descended  from  some  less  highly  organized  form. 
The  grounds  upon  which  this  conclusion  rests  will  never  be 
shaken,  for  the  close  similarity  between  man  and  the  lower  ani- 
mals in  embryonic  development,  as  well  as  in  innumerable  points 
of  structure  and  constitution,  both  of  high  and  of  the  most 
trifling  importance,  —  the  rudiments  which  he  retains,  and  the 
abnormal  reversions  to  which  he  is  occasionally  liable,  —  are 
facts  which  cannot  be  disputed.  They  have  long  been  known, 
but  until  recently  they  told  us  nothing  with  respect  to  the  origin 
of  man.  Now  when  viewed  by  the  light  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
whole  organic  world,  their  meaning  is  unmistakable.  The  great 
principle  of  evolution  stands  up  clear  and  firm,  when  these  groups 
of  facts  are  considered  in  connection  with  others,  such  as  the 
mutual  affinities  of  the  members  of  the  same  group,  their 
geographical  distribution  in  past  and  present  times,  and  their 
geological  succession.  It  is  incredible  that  all  these  facts  should 
speak  falsely.  He  who  is  not  content  to  look,  like  a  savage,  at 
the  phenomena  of  nature  as  disconnected,  cannot  any  longer 
believe  that  man  is  the  work  of  a  separate  act  of  creation.  He 
will  be  forced  to  admit  that  the  close  resemblance  of  the  embryo 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       377 

of  man  to  that,  for  instance,  of  a  dog ;  the  construction  of  his 
skull,  limbs,  and  whole  frame  on  the  same  plan  with  that  of  other 
mammals,  independently  of  the  uses  to  which  the  parts,  may  be 
put ;  the  occasional  reappearance  of  various  structures,  for  in- 
stance of  several  muscles,  which  man  does  not  normally  possess, 
but  which  are  common  to  the  Quadrumana ;  and  a  crowd  of 
analogous  facts,  —  all  point  in  the  plainest  manner  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  man  is  the  codescendant  with  other  mammals  of  a 
common  progenitor. 

We  have  seen  that  man  incessantly  presents  individual  differ- 
ences in  all  parts  of  his  body  and  in  his  mental  faculties.  These 
differences  or  variations  seem  to  be  induced  by  the  same  general 
causes  and  to  obey  the  same  laws  as  with  the  lower  animals.  In 
both  cases  similar  laws  of  inheritance  prevail.  Man  tends  to 
increase  at  a  greater  rate  than  his  means  of  subsistence ;  con- 
sequently he  is  occasionally  subjected  to  a  severe  struggle  for 
existence,  and  natural  selection  will  have  effected  whatever  lies 
within  its  scope.  A  succession  of  strongly  marked  variations  of 
a  similar  nature  is  by  no  means  requisite ;  slight  fluctuating 
differences  in  the  individual  suffice  for  the  work  of  natural  selec- 
tion, not  that  we  have  any  reason  to  suppose  that  in  the  same 
species  all  parts  of  the  organization  tend  to  vary  to  the  same 
degree.  We  may  feel  assured  that  the  inherited  effects  of  the 
long-continued  use  or  disuse  of  parts  will  have  done  much  in 
the  same  direction  with  natural  selection.  Modifications  for- 
merly of  importance,  though  no  longer  of  any  special  use,  are 
long  inherited.  When  one  part  is  modified,  other  parts  change 
through  the  principle  of  correlation,  of  which  we  have  instances 
in  many  curious  cases  of  correlated  monstrosities.  Something 
may  be  attributed  to  the  direct  and  definite  action  of  the  sur- 
rounding conditions  of  life,  such  as  abundant  food,  heat,  or 
moisture ;  and  lastly,  many  characters  of  slight  physiological 
importance,  some  indeed  of  considerable  importance,  have  been 
gained  through  sexual  selection. 

No  doubt  man,  as  well  as  every  other  animal,  presents  struc- 
tures which  seem  to  our  limited  knowledge  not  to  be  now  of 
any  service  to  him,  nor  to  have  been  so  formerly,  either  for  the 


378  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

general  conditions  of  life,  or  in  the  relations  of  one  sex  to  the 
other.  Such  structures  cannot  be  accounted  for  by  any  form  of 
selection,  or  by  the  inherited  effects  of  the  use  and  disuse 
of  parts.  We  know,  however,  that  many  strange  and  strongly 
marked  peculiarities  of  structure  occasionally  appear  in  our  do- 
mesticated productions,  and  if  their  unknown  causes  were  to 
act  more  uniformly,  they  would  probably  become  common  to  all 
the  individuals  of  the  species.  We  may  hope  hereafter  to  under- 
stand something  about  the  causes  of  such  occasional  modifica- 
tions, especially  through  the  study  of  mpnstrosities ;  hence  the 
labors  of  experimentalists,  such  as  those  of  M.  Camille  Dareste, 
are  full  of  promise  for  the  future.  In  general,  we  can  only  say 
that  the  cause  of  each  slight  variation  and  of  each  monstrosity 
lies  much  more  in  the  constitution  of  the  organism  than  in  the 
nature  of  the  surrounding  conditions,  though  new  and  changed 
conditions  certainly  play  an  important  part  in  exciting  organic 
changes  of  many  kinds. 

Through  the  means  just  specified,  aided  perhaps  by  others  as 
yet  undiscovered,  man  has  been  raised  to  his  present  state.  But 
since  he  attained  to  the  rank  of  manhood,  he  has  diverged  into 
distinct  races,  or  as  they  may  be  more  fitly  called,  subspecies. 
Some  of  these,  such  as  the  negro  and  European,  are  so  distinct 
that,  if  specimens  had  been  brought  to  a  naturalist  without  any 
further  information,  they  would  undoubtedly  have  been  consid- 
ered by  him  as  good  and  true  species.  Nevertheless,  all  the  races 
agree  in  so  many  unimportant  details  of  structure  and  in  so  many 
mental  peculiarities  that  these  can  be  accounted  for  only  by 
inheritance  from  a  common  progenitor ;  and  a  progenitor  thus 
characterized  would  probably  deserve  to  rank  as  man. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  divergence  of  each  race  from 
the  other  races,  and  of  all  from  a  common  stock,  can  be  traced 
back  to  any  one  pair  of  progenitors.  On  the  contrary,  at  every 
stage  in  the  process  of  modification,  all  the  individuals  which 
were  in  any  way  better  fitted  for  their  conditions  of  life,  though 
in  different  degrees,  would  have  survived  in  greater  numbers 
than  the  less  well  fitted.  The  process  would  have  been  like  that 
followed  by  man,  when  he  does  not  intentionally  select  particular 


379 

individuals,  but  breeds  from  all  the  superior  individuals  and 
neglects  the  inferior.  He  thus  slowly  but  surely  modifies  his 
stock  and  unconsciously  forms  a  new  strain.  So  with  respect 
to  modifications  acquired  independently  of  selection  and  due  to 
variations  arising  from  the  nature  of  the  organism  and  the  action 
of  the  surrounding  conditions,  or  from  changed  habits  of  life,  no 
single  pair  will  have  been  modified  much  more  than  the  other 
pairs  inhabiting  the  same  country,  for  all  will  have  been  con- 
tinually blended  through  free  intercrossing. 

By  considering  the  embryological  structure  of  man,  the 
homologies  which  he  presents  with  the  lower  animals,  the 
rudiments  which  he  retains,  and  the  reversions  to  which  he  is 
liable,  we  can  partly  recall  in  imagination  the  former  condition 
of  our  early  progenitors,  and  can  approximately  place  them  in 
their  proper  place  in  the  zoological  series.  We  thus  learn  that 
man  is  descended  from  a  hairy,  tailed  quadruped,  probably  arbo- 
real in  its  habits,  and  an  inhabitant  of  the  Old  World.  This 
creature,  if  its  whole  structure  had  been  examined  by  a  natural- 
ist, would  have  been  classed  among  the  Quadrumana  as  surely 
as  the  still  more  ancient  progenitor  of  the  Old  and  New  World 
monkeys.  The  Quadrumana  and  all  the  higher  mammals  are 
probably  derived  from  an  ancient  marsupial  animal,  and  this 
through  a  long  line  of  diversified  forms  from  some  amphibian- 
like  creature,  and  this  again  from  some  fishlike  animal.  In  the 
dim  obscurity  of  the  past  we  can  see  that  the  early  progenitor 
of  all  the  Vertebrata  must  have  been  an  aquatic  animal,  provided 
with  branchiae,  with  the  two  sexes  united  in  the  same  individual, 
and  with  the  most  important  organs  of  the  body  (such  as  the 
brain  and  heart)  imperfectly  or  not  at  all  developed.  This  ani- 
mal seems  to  have  been  more  like  the  larvae  of  the  existing 
marine  Ascidians  than  any  other  known  form. 

The  high  standard  of  our  intellectual  powers  and  moral  dispo- 
sition is  the  greatest  difficulty  which  presents  itself,  after  we 
have  been  driven  to  this  conclusion  on  the  origin  of  man.  But 
every  one  who  admits  the  principle  of  evolution  must  see  that 
the  mental  powers  of  the  higher  animals,  which  are  the  same  in 
kind  with  those  of  man,  though  so  different  in  degree,  are  capable 


380  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  advancement.  Thus  the  interval  between  the  mental  powers 
of  one  of  the  higher  apes  and  of  a  fish,  or  between  those  of  an 
ant  and  a  scale  insect,  is  immense,  yet  their  development  does  not 
offer  any  special  difficulty;  for  with  our  domesticated  animals 
the  mental  faculties  are  certainly  variable,  and  the  variations  are 
inherited.  No  one  doubts  that  they  are  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  animals  in  a  state  of  nature.  Therefore  the  conditions  are 
favorable  for  their  development  through  natural  selection.  The 
same  conclusion  may  be  extended  to  man  ;  the  intellect  must 
have  been  all  important  to  him,  even  at  a  very  remote  period,  as 
enabling  him  to  invent  and  use  language,  to  make  weapdns,  tools, 
traps,  etc.,  whereby  with  the  aid  of  his  social  habits  he  long  ago 
became  the  most  dominant  of  all  living  creatures. 

A  great  stride  in  the  development  of  the  intellect  will  have 
followed  as  soon  as  the  half-art  and  half-instinct  of  language 
came  into  use  ;•  for  the  continued  use  of  language  will  have 
reacted  on  the  brain  and  produced  an  inherited  effect ;  and  this 
again  will  have  reacted  on  the  improvement  of  language.  As 
Mr.  Chauncey  Wright l  has  well  remarked,  the  largeness  of  the 
brain  in  man  relatively  to  his  body,  compared  with  the  lower 
animals,  may  be  attributed  in  chief  part  to  the  early  use  of  some 
simple  form  of  language,  —  that  wonderful  engine  which  affixes 
signs  to  all  sorts  of  objects  and  qualities,  and  excites  trains  of 
thought  which  would  never  arise  from  the  mere  impression  of  the 
senses,  or  if  they  did  arise  could  not  be  followed  out.  The 
higher  intellectual  powers  of  man,  such  as  those  of  ratiocina- 
tion, abstraction,  self -consciousness,  etc.,  probably  follow  from 
the  continued  improvement  and  exercise  of  the  other  mental 
faculties. 

The  development  of  the  moral  qualities  is  a  more  interesting 
problem.  The  foundation  lies  in  the  social  instincts,  including 
under  this  term  the  family  ties.  These  instincts  are  highly  com- 
plex, and  in  the  case  of  the  lower  animals  give  special  tendencies 
toward  certain  definite  actions  ;  but  the  more  important  elements 
are  love  and  the  distinct  emotion  of  sympathy.  Animals  endowed 

1  "  On  the  Limits  of  Natural  Selection,"  in  the  North  American  Review,  Octo- 
ber, 1870,  p.  295. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO  MAN       381 

with  the  social  instincts  take  pleasure  in  one  another's  company, 
warn  one  another  of  danger,  defend  and  aid  one  another  in  many 
ways.  These  instincts  do  not  extend  to  all  the  individuals  of  the 
species,  but  only  to  those  of  the  same  community.  As  they  are 
highly  beneficial  to  the  species,  they  have  in  all  probability  been 
acquired  through  natural  selection. 

A  moral  being  is  one  who  is  capable  of  reflecting  on  his  past 
actions  and  their  motives,  of  approving  of  some  and  disapprov- 
ing of  others ;  and  the  fact  that  man  is  the  one  being  who  cer- 
tainly deserves  this  designation  is  the  greatest  of  all  distinctions 
between  him  and  the  lower  animals.  But  in  a  former  chapter 
I  have  endeavored  to  show  that  the  moral  sense  follows,  firstly, 
from  the  enduring  and  ever-present  nature  of  the  social  instincts  ; 
secondly,  from  man's  appreciation  of  the  approbation  and  dis- 
approbation of  his  fellows;  and  thirdly,  from  the  high  activity  of 
his  mental  faculties,  with  past  impressions  extremely  vivid  ;  and 
in  these  latter  respects  he  differs  from  the  lower  animals.  Owing 
to  this  condition  of  mind,  man  cannot  avoid  looking  both  backward 
and  forward  and  comparing  past  impressions.  Hence  after  some 
temporary  desire  or  passion  has  mastered  his  social  instincts,  he 
reflects  and  compares  the  now  weakened  impression  of  such 
past  impulses  with  the  ever-present  social  instincts,  and  he  then 
feels  that  sense  of  dissatisfaction  which  all  unsatisfied  instincts 
leave  behind  them ;  he  therefore  resolves  to  act  differently  for 
the  future, —  and  this  is  conscience.  Any  instinct,  permanently 
stronger  or  more  enduring  than  another,  gives  rise  to  a  feel- 
ing which  we  express  by  saying  that  it  ought  to  be  obeyed. 
A  pointer  dog,  if  able  to  reflect  on  his  past  conduct,  would 
say  to  himself,  I  ought  (as  indeed  we  say  of  him)  to  have  pointed 
at  that  hare  and  not  have  yielded  to  the  passing  temptation 
of  hunting  it. 

Social  animals  are  impelled  partly  by  a  wish  to  aid  the  mem- 
bers of  their  community  in  a  general  manner,  but  more  com- 
monly to  perform  certain  definite  actions.  Man  is  impelled  by 
the  same  general  wish  to  aid  his  fellows,  but  has  few  or  no 
special  instincts.  He  differs  also  from  the  lower  animals  in  the 
power  of  expressing  his  desires  by  words,  which  thus  become  a 


382  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

guide  to  the  aid  required  and  bestowed.  The  motive  to  give  aid 
is  likewise  much  modified  in  man  ;  it  no  longer  consists  solely  of 
a  blind  instinctive  impulse,  but  is  much  influenced  by  the  praise 
or  blame  of  his  fellows.  The  appreciation  and  the  bestowal  of 
praise  and  blame  both  rest  on  sympathy;  and  this  emotion,  as 
we  have  seen,  is  one  of  the  most  important  elements  of  the 
social  instincts.  Sympathy,  though  gained  as  an  instinct,  is  also 
much  strengthened  by  exercise  or  habit.  As  all  men  desire  their 
own  happiness,  praise  or  blame  is  bestowed  on  actions  and 
motives,  according  as  they  lead  to  this  end ;  and  as  happiness  is 
an  essential  part  of  the  general  good,  the  greatest-happiness 
principle  indirectly  serves  as  a  nearly  safe  standard  of  right  and 
wrong.  As  the  reasoning  powers  advance  and  experience  is 
gained,  the  remoter  effects  of  certain  lines  of  conduct  on  the 
character  of  the  individual,  and  on  the  general  good,  are  per- 
ceived; and  then  the  self -regarding  virtues  come  within  the  scope 
of  public  opinion  and  receive  praise,  and  their  opposites  blame. 
But  with  the  less  civilized  nations  reason  often  errs,  and  many 
bad  customs  and  base  superstitions  come  within  the  same  scope, 
and  are  then  esteemed  as  high  virtues,  and  their  breach  as 
heavy  crimes. 

The  moral  faculties  are  generally  and  justly  esteemed  as  of 
higher  value  than  the  intellectual  powers.  But  we  should  bear 
in  mind  that  the  activity  of  the  mind  in  vividly  recalling  past 
impressions  is  one  of  the  fundamental  though  secondary  bases  of 
conscience.  This  affords  the  strongest  argument  for  educating 
and  stimulating  in  all  possible  ways  the  intellectual  faculties  of 
every  human  being.  No  doubt  a  man  with  a  torpid  mind,  if  his 
social  affections  and  sympathies  are  well  developed,  will  be  led  to 
good  actions,  and  may  have  a  fairly  sensitive  conscience.  But 
whatever  renders  the  imagination  more  vivid  and  strengthens 
the  habit  of  recalling  and  comparing  past  impressions  will  make 
the  conscience  more  sensitive,  and  may  even  somewhat  compen- 
sate for  weak  social  affections  and  sympathies. 

The  moral  nature  of  man  has  reached  its  present  standard, 
partly  through  the  advancement  of  his  reasoning  powers  and 
consequently  of  a  just  public  opinion,  but  especially  from  his 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN  RELATION  TO   MAN       383 

sympathies  having  been  rendered  more  tender  and  widely  diffused 
through  the  effects  of  habit,  example,  instruction,  and  reflection. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  after  long  practice  virtuous  tendencies 
may  be  inherited.  With  the  more  civilized  races,  the  conviction 
of  the  existence  of  an  all-seeing  Deity  has  had  a  potent  influence 
on  the  advance  of  morality.  Ultimately  man  does  not  accept  the 
praise  or  blame  of  his  fellows  as  his  sole  guide,  though  few  escape 
this  influence,  but  his  habitual  convictions,  controlled  by  reason, 
afford  him  the  safest  rule.  His  conscience  then  becomes  the 
supreme  judge  and  monitor.  Nevertheless,  the  first  founda- 
tion or  origin  of  the  moral  sense  lies  in  the  social  instincts, 
including  sympathy ;  and  these  instincts  no  doubt  were  pri- 
marily gained,  as  in  the  case  of  the  lower  animals,  through 
natural  selection. 

The  belief  in  God  has  often  been  advanced  as  not  only  the 
greatest  but  the  most  complete  of  all  the  distinctions  between 
man  and  the  lower  animals.  It  is,  however,  impossible,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  maintain  that  this  belief  is  innate  or  instinctive  in  man. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  belief  in  all-pervading  spiritual  agencies 
seems  to  be  universal,  and  apparently  follows  from  a  considerable 
advance  in  man's  reason,  and  from  a  still  greater  advance  in 
his  faculties  of  imagination,  curiosity,  and  wonder.  I  am  aware 
that  the  assumed  instinctive  belief  in  God  has  been  used  by 
many  persons  as  an  argument  for  his  existence.  But  this  is  a 
rash  argument,  as  we  should  thus  be  compelled  to  believe  in  the 
existence  of  many  cruel  and  malignant  spirits  only  a  little  more 
powerful  than  man,  for  the  belief  in  them  is  far  more  general 
than  in  a  beneficent  Deity.  The  idea  of  a  universal  and  bene- 
ficent Creator  does  not  seem  to  arise  in  the  mind  of  man  until  he 
has  been  elevated  by  long-continued  culture. 

He  who  believes  in  the  advancement  of  man  from  some  low 
organized  form  will  naturally  ask,  How  does  this  bear  on  the 
belief  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  ?  The  barbarous  races  of 
man,  as  Sir  J.  Lubbock  has  shown,  possess  no  clear  belief  of  this 
kind  ;  but  arguments  derived  from  the  primeval  beliefs  of  sav- 
ages are,  as  we  have  just  seen,  of  little  or  no  avail.  Few  persons 
feel  any  anxiety  from  the  impossibility  of  determining  at  what 


384  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

precise  period  in  the  development  of  the  individual,  from  the  first 
trace  of  a  minute  germinal  vesicle,  man  becomes  an  immortal 
being ;  and  there  is  no  greater  cause  for  anxiety  because  the 
period  cannot  possibly  be  determined  in  the  gradually  ascending 
organic  scale.1 

I  am  aware  that  the  conclusions  arrived  at  in  this  work  will  be 
denounced  by  some  as  highly  irreligious  ;  but  he  who  denounces 
them  is  bound  to  show  why  it  is  more  irreligious  to  explain  the 
origin  of  man  as  a  distinct  species  by  descent  from  some  lower 
form,  through  the  laws  of  variation  and  natural  selection,  than  to 
explain  the  birth  of  the  individual  through  the  laws  of  ordinary 
reproduction.  The  birth  both  of  the  species  and  of  the  individual 
are  equally  parts  of  that  grand  sequence  of  events,  which  our 
minds  refuse  to  accept  as  the  result  of  blind  chance.  The  under- 
standing revolts  at  such  a  conclusion,  whether  or  not  we  are  able 
to  believe  that  every  slight  variation  of  structure,  the  union  of 
each  pair  in  marriage,  the  dissemination  of  each  seed,  and  other 
such  events  have  all  been  ordained  for  some  special  purpose. 

Sexual  selection  has  been  treated  at  great  length  in  this  work, 
for,  as  I  have  attempted  to  show,  it  has  played  an  important  part 
in  the  history  of  the  organic  world.  I  am  aware  that  much 
remains  doubtful,  but  I  have  endeavored  to  give  a  fair  view  of 
the  whole  case.  In  the  lower  divisions  of  the  animal  kingdom 
sexual  selection  seems  to  have  done  nothing ;  such  animals  are 
often  affixed  for  life  to  the  same  spot,  or  have  the  sexes  combined 
in  the  same  individual,  or,  what  is  still  more  important,  their  per- 
ceptive and  intellectual  faculties  are  not  sufficiently  advanced  to 
allow  of  the  feelings  of  love  and  jealousy,  or  of  the  exertion  of 
choice.  When,  however,  we  come  to  the  Arthropoda  and  Verte- 
brata,  even  to  the  lowest  classes  in  these  two  great  subking- 
doms,  sexual  selection  has  effected  much. 

In  the  several  great  classes  of  the  animal  kingdom, —  in  mam- 
mals, birds,  reptiles,  fishes,  insects,  and  even  crustaceans,  —  the 
differences  between  the  sexes  follow  nearly  the  same  rules.  The 
males  are  almost  always  the  wooers,  and  they  alone  are  armed  with 

1  The  Rev.  J.  A.  Picton  gives  a  discussion  to  this  effect  in  his  New  Theories 
and  the  Old  Faith,  1870. 


SEXUAL  SELECTION   IN   RELATION  TO   MAN       385 

special  weapons  for  fighting  with  their  rivals.  They  are  generally 
stronger  and  larger  than  the  females,  and  are  endowed  with  the 
requisite  qualities  of  courage  and  pugnacity.  They  are  provided, 
either  exclusively  or  in  a  much  higher  degree  than  the  females, 
with  organs  for  vocal  or  instrumental  music,  and  with  odoriferous 
glands.  They  are  ornamented  with  infinitely  diversified  append- 
ages and  with  the  most  brilliant  or  conspicuous  colors,  often 
arranged  in  elegant  patterns,  while  the  females  are  unadorned. 
When  the  sexes  differ  in  more  important  structures  it  is  the 
male  which  is  provided  with  special  sense  organs  for  discovering 
the  female,  with  locomotive  organs  for  reaching  her,  and  often 
with  prehensile  organs  for  holding  her.  These  various  structures 
for  charming  or  securing  the  female  are  often  developed  in  the 
male  during  only  part  of  the  year,  namely,  the  breeding  season. 
They  have  in  many  cases  been  more  or  less  transferred  to  the 
females ;  and  in  the  latter  case  they  often  appear  in  her  as  mere 
rudiments.  They  are  lost  or  never  gained  by  the  males  after 
emasculation.  Generally  they  are  not  developed  in  the  male  dur- 
ing early  youth,  but  appear  a  short  time  before  the  age  for  repro- 
duction. Hence  in  most  cases  the  young  of  both  sexes  resemble 
each  other,  and  the  female  somewhat  resembles  her  young  off- 
spring throughout  life.  In  almost  every  great  class  a  few  anom- 
alous cases  occur,  where  there  has  been  an  almost  complete 
transposition  of  the  characters  proper  to  the  two  sexes,  the 
females  assuming  characters  which  properly  belong  to  the  males. 
This  surprising  uniformity  in  the  laws  regulating  the  differences 
between  the  sexes  in  so  many  and  such  widely  separated  classes 
is  intelligible  if  we  admit  the  action  of  one  common  cause,  namely, 
sexual  selection. 

Sexual  selection  depends  on  the  success  of  certain  individuals 
over  others  of  the  same  sex,  in  relation  to  the  propagation  of  the 
species  ;  while  natural  selection  depends  on  the  success  of  both 
sexes,  at  all  ages,  in  relation  to  the  general  conditions  of  life. 
The  sexual  struggle  is  of  two  kinds  :  in  the  one  it  is  between  the 
individuals  of  the  same  sex,  generally  the  males,  in  order  to  drive 
away  or  kill  their  rivals,  the  females  remaining  passive ;  while  in 
the  other,  the  struggle  is  likewise  between  the  individuals  of  the 


386  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

same  sex,  in  order  to  excite  or  charm  those  of  the  opposite  sex, 
generally  the  females,  who  no  longer  remain  passive  but  select 
the  more  agreeable  partners.  This  latter  kind  of  selection  is 
closely  analogous  to  that  which  man  unintentionally,  yet  effectu- 
ally, brings  to  bear  on  his  domesticated  productions  when  he 
preserves  during  a  long  period  the  most  pleasing  or  useful  indi- 
viduals, without  any  wish  to  modify  the  breed. 

The  laws  of  inheritance  determine  whether  characters  gained 
through  sexual  selection  by  either  sex  shall  be  transmitted  to  the 
same  sex  or  to  both,  as  well  as  the  age  at  which  they  shall  be 
developed.  It  appears  that  variations  arising  late  in  life  are  com- 
monly transmitted  to  one  and  the  same  sex.  Variability  is  the 
necessary  basis  for  the  action  of  selection,  and  is  wholly  inde- 
pendent of  it.  It  follows  from  this  that  variations  of  the  same 
general  nature  have  often  been  taken  advantage  of  and  accumu- 
lated through  sexual  selection  in  relation  to  the  propagation  of 
the  species,  as  well  as  through  natural  selection  in  relation  to 
the  general  purposes  of  life.  Hence  secondary  sexual  charac- 
ters, when  equally  transmitted  to  both  sexes,  can  be  distinguished 
from  ordinary  specific  characters  only  by  the  light  of  analogy. 
The  modifications  acquired  through  sexual  selection  are  often  so 
strongly  pronounced  that  the  two  sexes  have  frequently  been 
ranked  as  distinct  species,  or  even  as  distinct  genera.  Such 
strongly  marked  differences  must  be  in  some  manner  highly 
important,  and  we  know  that  they  have  been  acquired  in  some 
instances  at  the  cost  not  only  of  inconvenience  but  of  exposure 
to  actual  danger. 

The  belief  in  the  power  of  sexual  selection  rests  chiefly  on 
the  following  considerations.  Certain  characters  are  confined  to 
one  sex,  and  this  alone  renders  it  probable  that  in  most  cases 
they  are  connected  with  the  act  of  reproduction.  In  innumerable 
instances  these  characters  are  fully  developed  only  at  maturity, 
and  often  during  only  a  part  of  the  year,  which  is  always  the 
breeding  season.  The  males  (passing  over  a  few  exceptional 
cases)  are  the  more  active  in  courtship  ;  they  are  the  better  armed, 
and  are  rendered  the  more  attractive  in  various  ways.  It  is  to  be 
especially  observed  that  the  males  display  their  attractions  with 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       387 

elaborate  care  in  the  presence  of  the  females,  and  that  they 
rarely  or  never  display  them  excepting  during  the  season  of  love. 
It  is  incredible  that  all  this  should  be  purposeless.  Lastly,  we 
have  distinct  evidence  with  some  quadrupeds  and  birds  that  the 
individuals  of  one  sex  are  capable. of  feeling  a  strong  antipathy 
or  preference  for  certain  individuals  of  the  other  sex. 

Bearing  in  mind  these  facts,  and  the  marked  results  of  man's 
unconscious  selection,  when  applied  to  domesticated  animals  and 
cultivated  plants,  it  seems  to  me  almost  certain  that  if  the  indi- 
viduals of  one  sex  were  during  a  long  series  of  generations  to  pre- 
fer pairing  with  certain  individuals  of  the  other  sex,  characterized 
in  some  peculiar  manner,  the  offspring  would  slowly  but  surely 
become  modified  in  this  same  manner.  I  have  not  attempted  to 
conceal  that,  excepting  when  the  males  are  more  numerous  than 
the  females,  or  when  polygamy  prevails,  it  is  doubtful  how  the 
more  attractive  males  succeed  in  leaving  a  larger  number  of  off- 
spring to  inherit  their  superiority  in  ornaments  or  other  charms 
than  the  less  attractive  males ;  but  I  have  shown  that  this  would 
probably  follow  from  females  —  especially  the  more  vigorous  ones, 
which  would  be  the  first  to  breed  —  preferring  not  only  the 
more  attractive  but  at  the  same  time  the  more  vigorous  and 
victorious  males. 

Although  we  have  some  positive  evidence  that  birds  appreciate 
bright  and  beautiful  objects,  as  with  the  bower  birds  of  Australia, 
and  although  they  certainly  appreciate  the  power  of  song,  yet  I 
fully  admit  that  it  is  astonishing  that  the  females  of  many  birds 
and  some  mammals  should  be  endowed  with  sufficient  taste  to 
appreciate  ornaments,  which  we  have  reason  to  attribute  to  sex- 
ual selection ;  and  this  is  even  more  astonishing  in  the  case  of 
reptiles,  fish,  and  insects.  But  we  really  know  little  about  the 
minds  of  the  lower  animals.  It  cannot  be  supposed,  for  instance, 
that  male  birds  of  paradise  or  peacocks  should  take  such  pains 
in  erecting,  spreading,  and  vibrating  their  beautiful  plumes  before 
the  females  for  no  purpose.  We  should  remember  the  fact  given 
on  excellent  authority  in  a  former  chapter,  that  several  peahens, 
when  debarred  from  an  admired  male,  remained  widows  during  a 
whole  season  rather  than  pair  with  another  bird. 


388  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Nevertheless,  I  know  of  no  fact  in  natural  history  more  won- 
derful than  that  the  female  Argus  pheasant  should  appreciate  the 
exquisite  shading  of  the  ball-and-socket  ornaments  and  the  elegant 
patterns  on  the  wing  feathers  of  the  male.  He  who  thinks  that 
the  male  was  created  as  he  now  exists  must  admit  that  the  great 
plumes,  which  prevent  the  wings  from  being  used  for  flight,  and 
which  are  displayed  during  courtship  and  at  no  other  time  in  a 
manner  quite  peculiar  to  this  one  species,  were  given  to  him  as 
an  ornament.  If  so,  he  must  likewise  admit  that  the  female 
was  created  and  endowed  with  the  capacity  of  appreciating  such 
ornaments.  I  differ  only  in  the  conviction  that  the  male  Argus 
pheasant  acquired  his  beauty  gradually,  through  the  preference 
of  the  females  during  many  generations  for  the  more  highly  orna- 
mented males,  the  aesthetic  capacity  of  the  females  having  been 
advanced  through  exercise  or  habit  just  as  our  own  taste  is  gradu- 
ally improved.  In  the  male,  through  the  fortunate  chance  of  a  few 
feathers  being  left  unchanged,  we  can  distinctly  trace  how  simple 
spots  with  a  little  fulvous  shading  on  one  side  may  have  been 
developed  by  small  steps  into  the  wonderful  ball-and-socket  orna- 
ments ;  and  it  is  probable  that  they  were  actually  thus  developed. 

Every  one  who  admits  the  principle  of  evolution  and  yet  feels 
great  difficulty  in  admitting  that  female  mammals,  birds,  reptiles, 
and  fish  could  have  acquired  the  high  taste  implied  by  the  beauty 
of  the  males,  and  which  generally  coincides  with  our  own  stand- 
ard, should  reflect  that  the  nerve  cells  of  the  brain  in  the  highest 
as  well  as  in  the  lowest  members  of  the  Vertebrate  series  are 
derived  from  those  of  the  common  progenitor  of  this  great  king- 
dom. For  we  can  thus  see  how  it  has  come  to  pass  that  certain 
mental  faculties,  in  various  and  widely  distinct  groups  of  animals, 
have  been  developed  in  nearly  the  same  manner  and  to  nearly 
the  same  degree. 

The  reader  who  has  taken  the  trouble  to  go  through  the 
entire  discussion  of  sexual  selection  will  be  able  to  judge  how 
far  the  conclusions  at  which  I  have  arrived  are  supported  by  suf- 
ficient evidence.  If  he  accepts  these  conclusions,  he  may,  I  think, 
safely  extend  them  to  mankind  ;  but  it  would  be  superfluous 
here  to  repeat  what  I  have  so  lately  said  on  the  manner  in  which 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       389 

sexual  selection  apparently  has  acted  on  man,  both  on  the  male 
and  female  side,  causing  the  two  sexes  to  differ  in  body  and 
mind,  and  the  several  races  to  differ  from  each  other  in  various 
characters,  as  well  as  from  their  ancient  and  lowly  organized 
progenitors. 

He  who  admits  the  principle  of  sexual  selection  will  be  led 
to  the  remarkable  conclusion  that  the  nervous  system  not  only 
regulates  most  of  the  existing  functions  of  the  body  but  has  in- 
directly influenced  the  progressive  development  of  various  bodily 
structures  and  of  certain  mental  qualities.  Courage,  pugnacity, 
perseverance,  strength,  and  size  of  body,  weapons  of  all  kinds, 
musical  organs,  both  vocal  and  instrumental,  bright  colors  and 
ornamental  appendages,  have  all  been  indirectly  gained  by  the 
one  sex  or  the  other,  through  the  exertion  of  choice,  the  influence 
of  love  and  jealousy,  and  the  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  in 
sound,  color,  or  form  ;  and  these  powers  of  the  mind  manifestly 
depend  on  the  development  of  the  brain. 

Man  scans  with  scrupulous  care  the  character  and  pedigree  of 
his  horses,  cattle,  and  dogs  before  he  matches  them ;  but  when 
he  comes  to  his  own  marriage  he  rarely  or  never  takes  any  such 
care.  He  is  impelled  by  nearly  the  same  motives  as  the  lower 
animals,  when  they  are  left  to  their  own  free  choice,  though  he 
is  in  so  far  superior  to  them  that  he  highly  values  mental  charms 
and  virtues.  On  the  other  hand,  he  is  strongly  attracted  by  mere 
wealth  or  rank.  Yet  he  might  by  selection  do  something  not 
only  for  the  bodily  constitution  and  frame  of  his  offspring  but 
for  their  intellectual  and  moral  qualities.  Both  sexes  ought  to 
refrain  from  marriage  if  they  are  in  any  marked  degree  inferior 
in  body  or  mind  ;  but  such  hopes  are  Utopian  and  will  never  be 
even  partially  realized  until  the  laws  of  inheritance  are  thoroughly 
known.  Every  one  does  good  service  who  aids  toward  this  end. 
When  the  principles  of  breeding  and  inheritance  are  better 
understood  we  shall  not  hear  ignorant  members  of  our  legislature 
rejecting  with  scorn  a  plan  for  ascertaining  whether  or  not  con- 
sanguineous marriages  are  injurious  to  man. 

The  advancement  of  the  welfare  of  mankind  is  a  most  intricate 
problem  ;  all  ought  to  refrain  from  marriage  who  cannot  avoid 


390  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

abject  poverty  for  their  children  ;  for  poverty  is  not  only  a  great 
evil  but  tends  to  its  own  increase  by  leading  to  recklessness  in 
marriage.  On  the  other  hand,  as  Mr.  Galton  has  remarked,  if 
the  prudent  avoid  marriage,  while  the  reckless  marry,  the  inferior 
members  tend  to  supplant  the  better  members  of  society.  Man, 
like  every  other  animal,  has  no  doubt  advanced  to  his  present 
high  condition  through  a  struggle  for  existence  consequent  on 
his  rapid  multiplication  ;  and  if  he  is  to  advance  still  higher,  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  he  must  remain  subject  to  a  severe  struggle. 
Otherwise  he  would  sink  into  indolence,  and  the  more  gifted  men 
would  not  be  more  successful  in  the  battle  of  life  than  the  less 
gifted.  Hence  our  natural  rate  of  increase,  though  leading  to 
many  and  obvious  evils,  must  not  be  greatly  diminished  by  any 
means.  There  should  be  open  competition  for  all  men  ;  and  the 
most  able  should  not  be  prevented  by  laws  or  customs  from  suc- 
ceeding best  and  rearing  the  largest  number  of  offspring.  Im- 
portant as  the  struggle  for  existence  has  been  and  even  still  is, 
yet  as  far  as  the  highest  part  of  man's  nature  is  concerned  there 
are  other  agencies  more  important.  For  the  moral  qualities  are 
advanced,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  much  more  through  the 
effects  of  habit,  the  reasoning  powers,  instruction,  religion,  etc., 
than  through  natural  selection  ;  though  to  this  latter  agency  may 
be  safely  attributed  the  social  instincts,  which  afforded  the  basis 
for  the  development  of  the  moral  sense. 

The  main  conclusion  arrived  at  in  this  work,  namely,  that  man 
is  descended  from  some  lowly  organized  form,  will,  I  regret  to 
think,  be  highly  distasteful  to  many.  But  there  can  hardly  be  a 
doubt  that  we  are  descended  from  barbarians.  The  astonishment 
which  I  felt  on  first  seeing  a  party  of  Fuegians  on  a  wild  and 
broken  shore  will  never  be  forgotten  by  me,  for  the  reflection  at 
once  rushed  into  my  mind  —  such  were  our  ancestors.  These 
men  were  absolutely  naked  and  bedaubed  with  paint,  their  long 
hair  was  tangled,  their  mouths  frothed  with  excitement,  and  their 
expression  was  wild,  startled,  and  distrustful.  They  possessed 
hardly  any  arts,  and  like  wild  animals  lived  on  what  they  could 
catch  ;  they  had  no  government,  and  were  merciless  to  every  one 
not  of  their  own  small  tribe.  He  who  has  seen  a  savage  in  his 


SEXUAL  SELECTION  IN  RELATION  TO  MAN       391 

native  land  will  not  feel  much  shame,  if  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  the  blood  of  some  more  humble  creature  flows  in  his  veins. 
For  my  own  part,  I  would  as  soon  be  descended  from  that  heroic 
little  monkey,  who  braved  his  dreaded  enemy  in  order  to  save  the 
life  of  his  keeper,  or  from  that  old  baboon,  who,  descending  from 
the  mountains,  carried  away  in  triumph  his  young  comrade  from 
a  crowd  of  astonished  dogs,  as  from  a  savage  who  delights  to  tor- 
ture his  enemies,  offers  up  bloody  sacrifices,  practices  infanticide 
without  remorse,  treats  his  wives  like  slaves,  knows  no  decency, 
and  is  haunted  by  the  grossest  superstitions. 

Man  may  be  excused  for  feeling  some  pride  at  having  risen, 
though  not  through  his  own  exertions,  to  the  very  summit  of  the 
organic  scale ;  and  the  fact  of  his  having  thus  risen,  instead  of 
having  been  aboriginally  placed  there,  may  give  him  hope  for  a 
still  higher  destiny  in  the  distant  future.  But  we  are  not  here 
concerned  with  hopes  or  fears,  only  with  the  truth  as  far  as  our 
reason  permits  us  to  discover  it ;  and  I  have  given  the  evidence 
to  the  best  of  my  ability.  We  must,  however,  acknowledge,  as 
it  seems  to  me,  that  man,  with  all  his  noble  qualities,  with  sym- 
pathy which  feels  for  the  most  debased,  with  benevolence  which 
extends  not  only  to  other  men  but  to  the  humblest  living  creature, 
with  his  godlike  intellect,  which  has  penetrated  into  the  move- 
ments and  constitution  of  the  solar  system,  —  with  all  these 
exalted  powers,  man  still  bears  in  his  bodily  frame  the  indelible 
stamp  of  his  lowly  origin. 


XIII 

NATIONAL  LIFE  FROM  THE  STANDPOINT 
OF  SCIENCE1 

I  want  you  to  look  with  me  for  a  while  on  mankind  as  a  prod- 
uct of  nature,  and  subject  to  the  natural  influences  which  form 
its  environment.  I  will,  first,  notice  a  point  which  bears  upon 
man  as  upon  all  forms  of  animal  life.  The  characters  of  both 
parents  —  their  virtues,  their  vices,  their  capabilities,  their  tem- 
pers, their  diseases  —  all  devolve  in  due  proportion  upon  their 
children.  Some  may  say,  "Oh,  yes ;  but  we  know  such  things 
are  inherited."  I  fear  that  the  great  majority  of  the  nation  does 
not  realize  what  inheritance  means,  or  much  that  happens  now 
would  not  be  allowed  to  happen.  Our  knowledge  of  heredity 
has  developed  enormously  in  the  last  few  years  ;  it  is  no  longer  a 
vague  factor  of  development,  to  be  appealed  to  vaguely.  Its  in- 
tensity in  a  great  variety  of  characters  in  a  great  many  forms  of 
life  has  been  quantitatively  determined,  and  we  no  longer  stand 
even  where  we  did  ten  years  ago.  The  form  of  a  man's  head, 
his  stature,  his  eye  color,  his  temper,  the  very  length  of  his  life, 
the  coat  color  of  horses  and  dogs,  the  form  of  the  capsule  of  the 
poppy,  the  spine  of  the  water  flea,  —  these  and  other  things  are 
all  inherited,  and  in  approximately  the  same  manner.  Nay,  if 
we  extend  the  notion  of  like  producing  like,  we  shall  find,  as  I 
have  recently  done,  that  the  same  laws  are  probably  true  for 
the  mushroom  and  for  the  forest  tree ;  that  the  principle  of 
heredity  runs  with  certainly  no  weakened  intensity  from  the 
lowest  to  the  highest  organisms,  and  from  their  least  to  their 
most  important  characters. 

Now  let  us  try  to  understand  exactly  what  this  means.  Of  a 
definite  child  of  A  and  B  we  can  assert  nothing  with  certainty, 

1  By  Karl  Pearson,  pp.  14-34,  41-57  (copyright,  1901,  by  Adam  and  Charles 
Black,  London ;  Macmillan  &  Co.,  New  York). 

392 


NATIONAL  LIFE  393 

but  of  all  the  children  of  a  definite  class  of  parents  like  A  and  B 
we  can  assert  that  a  definite  proportion  will  have  a  definite 
amount  of  any  character  of  A  and  B  with  a  certainty  as  great  as 
that  of  any  scientific  prediction  whatever.  I  am  not  speaking 
from  belief  or  from  theory,  but  simply  from  facts,  from  thousands 
of  instances  recorded  by  my  fellow-workers  or  myself.  Here  is  a 
great  principle  of  life,  something  apparently  controlling  all  life 
from  its  simplest  to  its  most  complex  forms,  and  yet,  although 
we  too  often  see  its  relentless  effects,  we  go  on  hoping  that  at 
any  rate  we  and  our  offspring  shall  be  the  exceptions  to  its  rules. 
For  one  of  us  as  an  individual  this  may  be  true,  but  for  the 
average  of  us  all,  for  the  nation  as  a  whole,  it  is  an  idle  hope. 
You  cannot  change  the  leopard's  spots,  and  you  cannot  change 
bad  stock  to  good  ;  you  may  dilute  it,  possibly  spread  it  over  a 
wider  area,  spoiling  good  stock,  but  until  it  ceases  to  multiply 
it  will  not  cease  to  be.  A  physically  and  mentally  well-ordered 
individual  will  arise  as  a  variation  in  bad  stock,  or  possibly  may 
result  from  special  nurture,  but  the  old  evils  will  in  all  probability 
reappear  in  a  definite  percentage  of  the  offspring. 

I  know  of  the  case  of  just  such  a  good  variation  appearing 
in  a  certain  bad  stock  as  far  back  as  1680,  and  the  offspring  of 
which  married  in  the  early  eighteenth  century  into  a  number  of 
good  stocks,  several  of  which  we  can  trace  in  the  records  of  the 
religious  community  of  which  they  were  members  for  nearly 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years.  And  what  do  we  find  ?  In  each 
generation  the  same  sort  of  proportion  of  cases  of  drunkenness, 
insanity,  and  physical  breakdown  arising  to  distress  and  perplex 
their  kinsfolk. 

Now  if  we  once  realize  that  this  law  of  inheritance  is  as  in- 
evitable as  the  law  of  gravity,  we  shall  cease  to  struggle  against 
it.  This  does  not  mean  a  fatal  resignation  to  the  presence  of 
bad  stock,  but  a  conscious  attempt  to  modify  the  percentage 
of  it  in  our  own  community  and  in  the  world  at  large.  Let  me 
illustrate  what  I  mean.  A  showman  takes  a  wolf  and,  by  aid  of 
training  and  nurture  and  a  more  or  less  judicious  administra- 
tion of  food  and  whip,  makes  it  apparently  docile  and  friendly 
as  a  dog.  But  one  day,  when  the  whip  is  not  there,  it  is  quite 


394  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

possible  that  the  wolf  will  turn  upon  its  keeper  or  upon  somebody 
else.  Even  if  it  does  not,  its  offspring  will  not  benefit  by  the 
parental  education.  I  don't  believe  that  the  showman's  way  can 
be  a  permanent  success ;  I  believe,  however,  that  you  might 
completely  domesticate  the  wolf,  as  the  dog  has  been  domes- 
ticated, by  steadily  selecting  the  more  docile  members  of  the 
community  through  several  generations,  and  breeding  only  from 
these,  rejecting  the  remainder.  Now  if  you  have  once  realized 
the  force  of  heredity,  you  will  see  in  natural  selection  —  that 
choice  of  the  physically  and  mentally  fitter  to  be  the  parents  of 
the  next  generation  —  a  most  munificent  provision  for  the  prog- 
ress of  all  forms  of  life.  Nurture  and  education  may  immensely 
aid  the  social  machine,  but  they  must  be  repeated  generation  by 
generation ;  they  will  not  in  themselves  reduce  the  tendency  to 
the  production  of  bad  stock.  Conscious  or  unconscious  selection 
can  alone  bring  that  about. 

What  I  have  said  about  bad  stock  seems  to  me  to  hold  for 
the  lower  races  of  man.  How  many  centuries,  how  many  thou- 
sands of  years  have  the  Kaffir  and  the  negro  held  large  districts 
in  Africa  undisturbed  by  the  white  man !  Yet  their  intertribal 
struggles  have  not  yet  produced  a  civilization  in  the  least  com- 
parable with  the  Aryan.  Educate  and  nurture  them  as  you  will, 
I  do  not  believe  that  you  will  succeed  in  modifying  the  stock. 
History  shows  me  one  way,  and  one  way  only,  in  which  a  high 
state  of  civilization  has  been  produced,  namely,  the  struggle  of 
race  with  race,  and  the  survival  of  the  physically  and  mentally 
fitter  race.  If  you  want  to  know  whether  the  lower  races  of  man 
can  evolve  a  higher  type,  I  fear  the  only  course  is  to  leave  them 
to  fight  it  out  among  themselves,  and  even  then  the  struggle  for 
existence  between  individual  and  individual,  between  tribe  and 
tribe,  may  not  be  supported  by  that  physical  selection  due  to 
a  particular  climate  on  which  probably  so  much  of  the  Aryan's 
success  depended. 

If  you  bring  the  white  man  into  contact  with  the  black,  you 
too  often  suspend  the  very  process  of  natural  selection  on  which 
the  evolution  of  a  higher  type  depends.  You  get  superior  and 
inferior  races  living  on  the  same  soil,  and  that  coexistence  is 


NATIONAL  LIFE 


395 


demoralizing  for  both.  They  naturally  sink  into  the  position 
of  master  and  servant,  if  not  admittedly  or  covertly  into  that  of 
slave  owner  and  slave.  Frequently  they  intercross,  and  if  the 
bad  stock  be  raised,  the  good  is  lowered.  Even  in  the  case  of 
Eurasians,  of  whom  I  have  met  mentally  and  physically  fine 
specimens,  I  have  felt  how  much  better  they  would  have  been 
had  they  been  pure  Asiatics  or  pure  Europeans.  Thus  it  comes 
about  that  when  the  struggle  for  existence  between  races  is 
suspended  the  solution  of  great  problems  may  be  unnaturally 
postponed  ;  instead  of  the  slow,  stern  processes  of  evolution, 
cataclysmal  solutions  are  prepared  for  the  future.  Such  problems 
in  suspense,  it  appears  to  me,  are  now  to  be  found  in  the  negro 
population  of  the  southern  states  of  America,  in  the  large  admix- 
ture of  Indian  blood  in  some  of  the  South  American  races,  but, 
above  all,  in  the  Kaffir  factor  in  South  Africa. 

You  may  possibly  think  that  I  am  straying  from  my  subject, 
but  I  want  to  justify  natural  selection  to  you.  I  want  you  to 
see  selection  as  something  which  renders  the  inexorable  law  of 
heredity  a  source  of  progress,  which  produces  the  good  through 
suffering,  an  infinitely  greater  good  which  far  outbalances  the 
very  obvious  pain  and  evil.  Let  us  suppose  the  alternative  were 
possible.  Let  us  suppose  we  could  prevent  the  white  man,  if 
we  liked,  from  going  to  lands  of  which  the  agricultural  and  min- 
eral resources  are  not  worked  to  the  full ;  then  I  should  say  a 
thousand  times  better  for  him  that  he  should  not  go  than  that 
he  should  settle  down  and  live  alongside  the  inferior  race.  The 
only  healthy  alternative  is  that  he  should  go,  and  completely 
drive  out  the  inferior  race.  That  is  practically  what  the  white 
man  has  done  in  North  America.  We  sometimes  forget  the 
light  that  chapter  of  history  throws  on  more  recent  experiences. 
Some  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  there  was  a  man  who  fought 
in  our  country  against  taxation  without  representation,  and  an- 
other man  who  did  not  mind  going  to  prison  for  the  sake  of 
his  religious  opinions.  As  Englishmen  we  are  proud  of  them 
both,  but  we  sometimes  forget  that  they  were  both  consider- 
able capitalists  for  their  age,  and  started  chartered  companies  in 
another  continent.  Well,  a  good  deal  went  on  in  the  plantations 


396  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

they  founded,  if  not  with  their  knowledge,  with  that,  at  least,  of 
their  servants  and  of  their  successors,  which  would  shock  us  at 
the  present  day.  But  I  venture  to  say  that  no  man  calmly  judg- 
ing will  wish  either  that  the  whites  had  never  gone  to  America, 
or  would  desire  that  whites  and  red  Indians  were  to-day  living 
alongside  each  other  as  negro  and  white  in  the  southern  states, 
as  Kaffir  and  European  in  South  Africa,  still  less  that  they 
had  mixed  their  blood  as  Spaniard  and  Indian  in  South  America. 
The  civilization  of  the  white  man  is  a  civilization  dependent  upon 
free  white  labor,  and  when  that  element  of  stability  is  removed 
it  will  collapse  like  those  of  Greece  and  Rome.  I  venture  to 
assert,  then,  that  the  struggle  for  existence  between  white  and  red 
man,  painful  and  even  terrible  as  it  was  in  its  details,  has  given 
us  a  good  far  outbalancing  its  immediate  evil.  In  place  of  the 
red  man,  contributing  practically  nothing  to  the  work  and  thought 
of  the  world,  we  have  a  great  nation,  mistress  of  many  arts,  and 
able  with  its  youthful  imagination  and  fresh,  untrammeled  im- 
pulses to  contribute  much  to  the  common  stock  of  civilized  man. 
Against  that  you  have  only  to  put  the  romantic  sympathy  for 
the  red  Indian  generated  by  the  novels  of  Cooper  and  the  poems 
of  Longfellow,  and  then  see  how  little  it  weighs  in  the  balance. 
But  America  is  but  one  case  in  which  we  have  to  mark  a 
masterful  human  progress  following  an  interracial  struggle.  The 
Australian  nation  is  another  case  of  a  great  civilization  sup- 
planting a  lower  race  unable  to  work  to  the  full  the  land  and  its 
resources.  Further  back  in  history  you  find  the  same  tale  with 
almost  every  European  nation.  Sometimes  when  the  conquering 
race  is  not  too  diverse  in  civilization  and  in  type  of  energy  there 
is  an  amalgamation  of  races,  as  when  Norman  and  Anglo-Saxon 
ultimately  blended  ;  at  other  times  the  inferior  race  is  driven  out 
before  the  superior,  as  the  Celt  drove  out  the  Iberian.  The 
struggle  means  suffering,  intense  suffering,  while  it  is  in  progress  ; 
but  that  struggle  and  that  suffering  have  been  the  stages  by 
which  the  white  man  has  reached  his  present  stage  of  develop- 
ment, and  they  account  for  the  fact  that  he  no  longer  lives  in 
caves  and  feeds  on  roots  and  nuts.  This  dependence  of  progress 
on  the  survival  of  the  fitter  race,  terribly  black  as  it  may  seem 


NATIONAL  LIFE 


397 


to  some  of  you,  gives  the  struggle  for  existence  its  redeeming 
features ;  it  is  the  fiery  crucible  out  of  which  comes  the  finer 
metal.  You  may  hope  for  a  time  when  the  sword  shall  be  turned 
into  the  plowshare,  when  American  and  German  and  English 
traders  shall  no  longer  compete  in  the  markets  of  the  world  for 
their  raw  material  and  for  their  food  supply,  when  the  white  man 
and  the  dark  shall  share  the  soil  between  them,  and  each  till  it  as 
he  lists.  But,  believe  me,  when  that  day  comes  mankind  will  no 
longer  progress ;  there  will  be  nothing  to  check  the  fertility  of 
inferior  stock ;  the  relentless  law  of  heredity  will  not  be  con- 
trolled and  guided  by  natural  selection.  Man  will  stagnate  ;  and 
unless  he  ceases  to  multiply,  the  catastrophe  will  come  again; 
famine  and  pestilence,  as  we  see  them  in  the  East,  physical  selec- 
tion instead  of  the  struggle  of  race  against  race,  will  do  the 
work  more  relentlessly  and,  to  judge  from  India  and  China,  far 
less  efficiently  than  of  old. 

Let  us  face  this  question  of  increasing  population  boldly.  We 
cannot  escape  it.  Sooner  or  later  it  must  and  will  make  itself 
felt  in  every  progressive  nation ;  for  what  I  have  said  of  the 
struggle  of  race  against  race  makes  itself  again  felt  within  every 
community.  A  nation  like  the  French  can  largely  limit  the 
number  of  its  offspring ;  but  how  shall  we  be  sure  that  these 
offspring  are  from  the  better  and  not  from  the  inferior  stock?  If 
they  come  equally  from  both  stocks  and  there  be  no  wastage, 
then  the  nation  has  ceased  to  progress ;  it  stagnates.  I  feel  sure 
that  a  certain  amount  of  wastage  is  almost  necessary  for  a  progres- 
sive nation  ;  you  want  definite  evidence  that  the  inferior  stocks 
are  not  able  to  multiply  at  will,  that  a  certain  standard  of  phy- 
sique and  brains  are  needful  to  a  man  if  he  wishes  to  settle  and 
have  a  family. 

Mr.  Francis  Galton  has  suggested  that  we  might  progress  far 
more  rapidly  than  we  at  present  do  under  this  crude  system  of 
unconscious  wastage  if  we  turned  our  thoughts  more  consciously 
to  the  problem,  if  we  emphasized  the  need  of  social  action  in  this 
direction,  and  made  men  and  women  feel  the  importance  of  good 
parentage  for  the 'citizens  of  the  future.  But  I  fear  our  present 
economic  and  social  conditions  are  hardly  yet  ripe  for  such  a 


398  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

movement ;  the  all-important  question  of  parentage  is  still  largely 
felt  to  be  solely  a  matter  of  family  and  not  of  national  impor- 
tance. Yet  how  antisocial  such  a  view  may  be  can  be  easily 
realized.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  nation  we  want  to  inculcate 
a  feeling  of  shame  in  the  parents  of  a  weakling,  whether  it  be 
mentally  or  physically  unfit.  We  want  parents  to  grasp  that  they 
have  given  birth  to  a  new  citizen,  and  that  this  involves,  on  the 
one  hand,  a  duty  towards  the  community  in  respect  of  his  breed 
and  nurture,  and  a  claim,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the  parents  on 
the  state,  that  the  latter  shall  make  the  conditions  of  life  favor- 
able to  the  rearing  of  healthy,  mentally  vigorous  men  and  women. 
Bear  in  mind  that  one  quarter  only  of  the  married  people  of 
this  country  —  say,  a  sixth  to  an  eighth  of  the  adult  population 
—produce  fifty  per  cent  of  the  next  generation.  You  will  then 
see  how  essential  it  is  for  the  maintenance  of  a  physically  and 
mentally  fit  race  that  this  one  sixth  to  one  eighth  of  our  popu- 
lation should  be  drawn  from  the  best  and  not  from  the  worst 
stocks.  A  nation  that  begins  to  tamper  with  its  fertility  may 
unconsciously  have  changed  its  national  characteristics  before  two 
generations  have  passed. 

France  is  becoming  a  land  of  Bretons  because  the  Bretons  alone 
have  large  families.  And  what  about  England  ?  Our  birth  rate 
has  been  going  down  for  perhaps  thirty  years.  Who  will  venture 
to  assert  that  this  decreased  fertility  has  occurred  in  the  inferior 
stocks  ?  On  the  contrary,  is  it  not  the  reckless  and  improvident 
who  have  the  largest  families  ?  The  professional  classes,  the 
trading  classes,  the  substantial  and  provident  working  classes  — 
shortly,  the  capable  elements  of  the  community  with  a  certain 
standard  of  life  —  have  been  marrying  late,  have  been  having 
small  families,  have  been  increasing  their  individual  comfort,  and 
all  this  is  at  the  expense  of  the  nation's  future.  We  cannot  sus- 
pend the  struggle  for  existence  in  any  class  of  the  community 
without  stopping  progress  ;  we  cannot  recruit  the  nation  from 
its  inferior  stocks  without  deteriorating  our  national  character. 

Now  what  have  our  economic  conditions  in  England  been 
during  the  last  thirty  years  ?  The  accumulation  of  wealth  has 
been  such  at  one  end  of  society  that  no  test  of  brains  or  of 


NATIONAL  LIFE 


399 


physique  was  needful  before  a  man  multiplied  his  type.  Death 
duties  and  the  inherent  tendency  of  folly  to  squander  its  sub- 
stance were  only  very  inefficient,  very  partial,  checks  on  the 
endowment  in  perpetuity  of  the  brainless.  At  the  other  end  of 
society  we  allowed  a  condition  of  affairs  to  exist  in  which  no 
greater  discomfort  could  well  be  produced  by  the  introduction 
of  additional  human  beings  ;  -there  were  always  charity  and  the 
state  ready  to  provide,  more  or  less  inefficiently,  for  the  surplus 
population.  There  has  been  scarcely  any  check  on  the  multipli- 
cation of  inferior  stock ;  only  in  the  middle  ranks,  among  the 
more  substantial  workers  with  the  hand  and  the  head,  have  men 
regarded  the  number  of  their  offspring  and  made  success  in  life's 
struggle  to  some  extent  a  condition  of  their  multiplication. 

Now  surely  this  is  a  very  dangerous  state  of  affairs  for  the 
nation  at  large.  A  crisis  may  come  in  which  we  may  want  all 
the  brain  and  all  the  muscle  we  can  possibly  lay  our  hands  on, 
and  we  may  find  that  there  is  a  dearth  of  ability  and  a  dearth  of 
physique  because  we  have  allowed  inferior  stock  to  multiply  at 
the  expense  of  the  better.  There  are  occasions  when  a  nation 
wants  a  reserve  of  strong  men,  and  when  it  must  draw  brain 
and  muscle  from  classes  and  from  forms  of  work  wherein  they 
are  not  exercised  to  the  full.  And  in  that  day  woe  to  the  nation 
which  has  recruited  itself  from  the  weaker  and  not  from  the 
stronger  stocks !  If  you  have  not  the  means  to  start  all  your 
offspring  in  your  own  class,  let  them  do  the  work  of  another  ;  if 
you  cannot  make  them  into  lawyers  and  engineers,  let  them  be 
village  schoolmasters  and  mechanics ;  or,  if  this  should  raise  an 
insurmountable,  if  utterly  false,  shame,  let  them  go  to  new  lands 
even  as  miners,  cowboys,  and  storekeepers ;  they  will  strengthen 
the  nation's  reserve,  and  this  is  far  better  than  that  they  should 
never  have  existed  at  all. 

I  will  not  say  that  we  have  a  dearth  of  ability  and  of  physique 
at  this  time,  but  I  will  venture  to  assert  that  there  has  of  recent 
years  been  a  want  of  them  in  the  right  places,  and  that  last  year, 
but  for  the  reserve  of  strong  men  in  our  colonies,  we  should 
have  been  in  far  greater  difficulties  than  we  were.  It  is  not  only 
in  warfare  —  that  is  the  crudest  form  of  the  modern  struggle  of 


4oo 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


nations  —  but  in  manufacture  and  in  commerce  that  there  has 
been  a  want  of  brains  in  the  right  place.  Leadership  in  trade  is 
really  no  more  than  leadership  in  the  army  open  to  the  man  of 
brains ;  in  both  cases  it  becomes  a  question  of  wealth  ;  the  en- 
dowed but  brainless  get  the  start.  Consider,  again,  how  the  led 
are,  in  many  cases,  not  the  mentally  and  physically  best  for  the 
task ;  they  are  too  often  the  surplus  of  the  inferior  stocks.  What 
wonder  when  we  put  the  one  in  competition  with  the  brains  and 
training  -of  the  German  commercial  and  technical  houses  that  we 
meet  defeat !  What  wonder  when  we  take  the  other  out  of  its  en- 
vironment that  the  leaders  cannot  lead,  and  the  led  fall  an  easy 
prey  to  sickness  and  disease  !  The  regiment  which  has  marched 
farthest  and  has  marched  quickest,  which  has  suffered  little  from 
disease  and  fought  as  well  as  any  in  the  Transvaal,  is  a  volunteer 
regiment,  drawn  from  that  very  reserve  of  strength  in  the  better 
stocks  to  which  I  have  referred. 

In  industry  it  is  the  same  thing.  We  shall  do  no  good  against 
the  American  and  the  German  by  a  mere  multiplication  of  centers 
of  technical  instruction.  What  we  want  to  do  is  to  bring  brains 
into  our  industry  from  top  tp  bottom.  Where  the  brains  already 
exist,  there  training  will  work  wonders  ;  but  we  shall  not  make 
the  product  of  inferior  stock  capable  men  by  merely  teaching 
them  the  tricks  of  their  trade.  In  one  polytechnic  I  found  lads 
learning  how  to  fold  cretonnes  and  polish  mahogany ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  manufacturers  had  thrust  the  cost  of  apprenticeship  on 
the  public  purse,  perhaps  to  some  extent  lowering  the  price  of 
sofas  and  easy-chairs  to  those  who  care  about  them.  The  object 
of  any  technical  education  paid  for  by  the  state  or  the  munici- 
pality should  be  the  exercise  of  brain  power,  mental  gymnastics 
in  the  best  sense ;  it  should  treat  of  the  science  and  not  the  art 
of  a  trade.  Such  education  —  education,  remember,  means  liter- 
ally a  drawing  out,  not  a  cramming  in  —  ought  to  act  as  a  brain 
stretcher,  and  not  attempt  to  communicate  mere  trade  knowledge. 
Where  it  does  the  latter  —  and  in  how  many  cases  does  it  not, 
under  our  brand-new  system  of  technical  instruction  ?  —  then  it 
is  merely  relieving  the  manufacturers,  and  possibly  the  purchasers, 
of  certain  goods  of  such  part  of  their  cost  as  has  hitherto  been 


NATIONAL  LIFE  401 

paid  for  apprenticeship.  On  the  other  hand,  when  technical 
education  acts  as  a  brain  stretcher,  then  this  increased  efficiency 
tells  not  only  on  the  trade  occupations  but  on  the  social  and 
civic  life  of  the  educated  ;  the  nation  is  thereby  strengthening 
the  reserve  of  trained  brains  upon  which  it  can  draw  in  a  crisis 
for  all  sorts  of  other  functions  than  those  of  a  narrow  trade. 
Brain  stretching  fosters  an  adaptability  to  new  environments. 
This  is  something  very  different  from  a  more  complete  knowledge 
of  trade  processes  or  proficiency  in  a  special  handicraft.  This  is 
a  form  of  education  for  which  the  nation  may  legitimately  pay ; 
it  is  that  which  is  essential  to  it  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 

I  am  not  speaking  without  some  experience.  I  have  been  en- 
gaged for  sixteen  years  in  helping  to  train  engineers,  and  those 
of  my  old  pupils  who  are  now  coming  to  the  front  in  life  are  not 
those  who  stuck  to  facts  and  formulae,  and  sought  only  for  what 
they  thought  would  be  "useful  to  them  in  their  profession."  On 
the  contrary,  the  lads  who  paid  attention  to  method,  who  thought 
more  of  proofs  than  of  formulas,  who  accepted  even  the  specialized 
branches  of  their  training  as  a  means  of  developing  habits  of 
observation  rather  than  of  collecting  "useful  facts,"  -  —these  lads 
have  developed  into  men  who  are  succeeding  in  life.  And  the 
reason  of  this  seems  to  me,  when  considering  their  individual 
cases,  to  be  that  they  could  adapt  themselves  to  an  environment 
more  or  less  different  from  that  of  the  existing  profession  ;  they 
could  go  beyond  its  processes,  its  formulae,  and  its  facts,  and 
develop  new  ones.  Their  knowledge  of  method  and  their  powers 
of  observation  enabled  them  to  supply  new  needs,  to  answer  to 
the  call  when  there  was  a  demand  not  for  old  knowledge  but 
for  trained  brains.  .  .  . 

It  may  be  as  well  now  to  sum  up  my  position  as  far  as  I  have 
yet  developed  it.  I  have  asked  you  to  look  upon  the  nation  as  an 
organized  whole  in  continual  struggle  with  other  nations,  whether 
by  force  of  arms  or  by  force  of  trade  and  economic  processes. 
I  have  asked  you  to  look  upon  this  struggle  of  either  kind  as  not 
wholly  a  bad  thing ;  it  is  the  source  of  human  progress  through- 
out the  world's  history.  But  if  a  nation  is  to  maintain  its  posi- 
tion in  this  struggle,  it  must  be  fully  provided  with  trained  brains 


402  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

in  every  department  of  national  activity,  from  the  government  to 
the  factory,  and  have,  if  possible,  a  reserve  of  brain  and  pJiysique 
to  fall  back  upon  in  times  of  national  crisis.  Recent  events  in 
our  commercial  as  well  as  in  our  military  experience  have  led 
some  to  doubt  whether  our  supply  of  trained  brains  is  sufficient, 
or,  at  any  rate,  whether  it  is  available  in  the  right  place  at  the 
right  moment.  Those  presumably  who  hold  that  the  brains  are 
forthcoming  have  raised  the  cry  of  technical  instruction,  which 
is  to  be  a  remedy  for  our  commercial  difficulties.  I  have  little 
doubt  that  when  this  war  is  finished  the  cry  of  military  instruc- 
tion will  be  raised  for  our  army  difficulties.  In  the  latter  as  in 
the  former  case  large  sums  of  money  will  no  doubt  be  demanded 
for  equipment.  But  I  have  endeavored  to  indicate  that  there  are 
two  preliminary  matters  to  be  considered.  First,  are  we  quite 
certain  that  we  have  a  reserve  of  brain  power  ready  to  be  trained  ? 
We  have  to  remember  that  man  is  subject  to  the  universal  law 
of  inheritance,  and  that  a  dearth  of  capacity  may  arise  if  we  re- 
cruit our  society  from  the  inferior  and  not  from  the  better  stock. 
If  any  social  opinions  or  class  prejudices  tamper  with  the  fertility 
of  the  better  stocks,  then  the  national  character  will  take  but  a 
few  generations  to  be  seriously  modified.  The  pressure  of  popu- 
lation should  always  tend  to  push  brains  and  physique  into  occu- 
pations where  they  are  not  a  primary  necessity,  for  in  this  way  a 
reserve  is  formed  for  the  times  of  national  crisis.  Such  a  reserve 
can  always  be  formed  by  filling  up  with  men  of  our  own  kith 
and  kin  the  waste  lands  of  the  earth,  even  at  the  expense  of  an 
inferior  race  of  inhabitants.  Yet  if  we  grant  that  our  nation  has 
a  full  supply  of  brains  both  in  action  and  in  reserve,  it  is  not 
knowledge  in  the  first  place  but  intellectual  training  which  is 
requisite.  We  want  the  master  scout  to  teach  men  to  observe 
and  reason  on  their  observations,  and  the  equipment  of  the  scout, 
the  actual  knowledge  of  facts  and  processes,  is  a  minor  matter. 
You  will  see  that  my  view  —  and  I  think  it  may  be  called  the 
scientific  view  of  a  nation  —  is  that  of  an  organized  whole,  kept 
up  to  a  high  pitch  of  internal  efficiency  by  insuring  that  its 
numbers  are  substantially  recruited  from  the  better  stocks,  and 
kept  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  external  efficiency  by  contest,  chiefly  by 


NATIONAL  LIFE  403 

way  of  war  with  inferior  races,  and  with  equal  races  by  the  strug- 
gle for  trade  routes  and  for  the  sources  of  raw  material  and  of 
food  supply.  This  is  the  natural-history  view  of  mankind,  and 
I  do  not  think  you  can  in  its  main  features  subvert  it.  Some  of 
you  may  refuse  to  acknowledge  it,  but  you  cannot  really  study 
history  and  refuse  to  see  its  force.  Some  of  you  may  realize  it, 
and  then  despair  of  life  ;  you  may  decline  to  admit  any  glory  in 
a  world  where  the  superior  race  must  either  eject  the  inferior, 
or,  mixing  with  it  or  even  living  alongside  it,  degenerate  itself. 
What  beauty  can  there  be  when  the  battle  is  to  the  stronger, 
and  the  weaker  must  suffer  in  the  struggle  of  nations  and  in  the 
struggle  of  individual  men  ?  You  may  say :  Let  us  cease  to 
struggle,  let  us  leave  the  lands  of  the  world  to  the  races  that 
cannot  profit  by  them  to  the  full,  let  us  cease  to  compete  in  the 
markets  of  the  world.  Well,  we  could  do  it,  if  we  were  a  small 
nation  living  on  the  produce  of  our  own  soil,  and  a  soil  so  worth- 
less that  no  other  race  envied  it  and  sought  to  appropriate  it.  We 
should  cease  to  advance ;  but  then  we  should  naturally  give  up 
progress  as  a  good  which  comes  through  suffering.  I  say  it  is 
possible  for  a  small  rural  community  to  stand  apart  from  the 
world-contest  and  to  stagnate,  if  no  more  powerful  nation  wants 
its  possessions. 

But  are  we  such  a  community  ?  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  the  daily 
bread  of  our  millions  of  workers  depends  on  their  having  some- 
body to  work  for  ?  that  if  we  give  up  the  contest  for  trade  routes 
and  for  free  markets  and  for  waste  lands,  we  indirectly  give  up 
our  food  supply  ?  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  our  strength  depends  on 
these  and  upon  our  colonies,  and  that  our  colonies  have  been 
won  by  the  ejection  of  inferior  races,  and  are  maintained  against 
equal  races  only  by  respect  for  their  and  our  present  power  ?  If 
war  or  competition  lessen  the  China  trade,  if  a  bad  harvest  or 
a  flood  check  the  import  of  Egyptian  or  American  cotton,  it  is 
the  Lancashire  operative  who  feels  the  pinch.  The  day  when  we 
cease  to  hold  our  own  among  the  nations  will  be  the  day  of 
catastrophe  for  our  workers  at  home.  We  could  return  to  the 
condition  of  mediaeval  England,  to  the  condition  of  Norway  or 
Denmark,  but  only  by  a  process  of  intense  selection,  reducing 


404  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

our  millions  in  a  manner  which  the  imagination  refuses  to  con- 
template. Being  as  we  are,  we  cannot  give  up  the  struggle,  and 
the  moment  dearth  of  ability,  the  want  of  brains  and  physique  in 
the  right  place,  leads  to  serious  defeat,  our  catastrophe  will  come. 
That  is  the  vision  which  depressed  thoughtful  men  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  year ;  that  is  the  dread  which  must  be  ever  in  the 
mind  of  the  true  statesman  when  he  seeks,  on  the  one  hand, 
to  curb  the  rash  venture  which  may  overstrain  our  power,  and 
on  the  other  hand,  to  maintain  our  right  to  work  the  unutilized 
resources  of  the  earth,  be  they  in  Africa  or  in  Asia. 

Struggle  of  race  against  race,  and  of  man  against  man,  —  if 
this  be  the  scientific  view  of  life,  the  basis  of  human  progress, 
how  have  human  love  and  sympathy  come  to  play  such  a  great 
part  in  the  world  ?  Here,  again,  I  think  science  has  something 
to  say,  although  the  earlier  interpreters  of  evolution  rather  ob- 
scured it.  They  painted  evolution  as  the  survival  of  the  fittest 
individual,  and  spoke  of  his  struggle  against  his  fellows. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  form  of  selection  at  work ;  it  is  often 
quite  the  least  effective  phase  of  the  contest.  Consciously  or  un- 
consciously, one  type  of  life  is  fighting  against  a  second  type,  and 
all  life  is  struggling  with  its  physical  environment.  The  safety 
of  a  gregarious  animal  —  and  man  is  essentially  such  —  depends 
upon  the  intensity  with  which  the  social  instinct  has  been  de- 
veloped. The  stability  of  a  race  depends  entirely  on  the  extent 
to  which  the  social  feelings  have  got  a  real  hold  on  it.  The 
race  which  allows  the  physically  or  mentally  stronger  Tom  to 
make  the  existence  of  the  somewhat  inferior  Jack  impossible 
will  never  succeed  when  it  comes  into  contest  with  a  second  race. 
Jack  has  no  interests  in  common  with  Tom  ;  the  oppressed  will 
hardly  get  worse  terms  from  a  new  master.  That  is  why  no 
strong  and  permanent  civilization  can  be  built  upon  slave  labor, 
why  an  inferior  race  doing  menial  labor  for  a  superior  race  can 
give  no  stable  community;  that  is  why  we  shall  never  have  a 
healthy  social  state  in  South  Africa  until  the  white  man  replaces 
the  dark  in  the  fields  and  in  the  mines,  and  the  Kaffir  is  pushed 
back  towards  the  equator.  The  nation  organized  for  the  struggle 
must  be  a  homogeneous  whole,  not  a  mixture  of  superior  and 


NATIONAL  LIFE 


405 


inferior  races.  For  this  reason,  every  new  land  we  colonize  with 
white  men  is  a  source  of  strength ;  every  land  of  colored  men 
we  simply  rule  may  be  needful  as  a  source  of  food  and  mineral 
wealth,  but  it  is  not  an  element  of  stability  to  our  community, 
and  must  ever  be  regarded  with  grave  anxiety  by  our  statesmen. 

This  need  for  homogeneity  in  a  nation  may  be  pushed  further. 
You  must  not  have  class  differences  and  wealth  differences  and 
education  differences  so  great  within  the  community  that  you 
lose  the  sense  of  common  interest,  and  feel  only  the  pressure  of 
the  struggle  of  man  against  man.  No  tribe  of  men  can  work 
together  unless  the  tribal  interest  dominates  the  personal  and 
individual  interest  at  all  points  where  they  come  into  conflict. 
The  struggle  among  primitive  man  of  tribe  against  tribe  evolved 
the  social  instinct.  The  tribe  with  the  greater  social  feeling 
survived  ;  we  have  to  thank  the  struggle  for  existence  for  first 
making  man  gregarious,  and  then  intensifying,  stage  by  stage, 
the  social  feeling.  Such  is  the  scientific  account  of  the  origin  of 
our  social  instincts  ;  and  if  you  come  to  analyze  it,  such  is  the 
origin  of  what  we  term  morality;  morality  is  only  the  developed 
form  of  the  tribal  habit,  the  custom  of  acting  in  a  certain  way 
towards  our  fellows,  upon  which  the  very  safety  of  the  tribe 
originally  depended.  Philosophies  may  be  invented,  the  super- 
sensuous  appealed  to,  in  order  to  increase  the  sanctions  on  social 
or  moral  conduct ;  but  the  natural  history  of  morality  begins 
with  the  kin,  spreads  to  the  tribe,  to  the  nation,  to  allied  races, 
and  ultimately  to  inferior  races  and  lower  types  of  life,  but  ever 
with  decreasing  intensity.  The  demands  upon  the  spirit  of  self- 
sacrifice  which  can  be  made  by  our  kin,  by  our  countrymen,  by 
Europeans,  by  Chinamen,  by  negroes,  by  Kaffirs,  and  by  animals 
may  not  be  clearly  defined  ;  but,  on  the  average,  they  admit  of 
rough  graduation,  and  we  find  in  practice,  whatever  be  our  fine 
philosophies,  that  the  instinct  to  self-sacrifice  wanes  as  we  go 
down  in  the  scale. 

The  man  who  tells  us  that  he  feels  alike  toward  all  men,  that  he 
has  no  sense  of  kinship,  that  he  has  no  patriotic  sentiment,  that 
he  loves  the  Kaffir  as  he  loves  his  brother,  is  probably  deceiving 
himself.  If  he  is  not,  then  all  we  can  say  is  that  a  nation  of  such 


4o6  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

men,  or  even  a  nation  with  a  large  minority  of  such  men,  will  not 
stand  for  many  generations  ;  it  cannot  survive  in  the  struggle  of 
the  nations ;  it  cannot  be  a  factor  in  the  contest  upon  which  human 
progress  ultimately  depends.  The  national  spirit  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  ashamed  of,  as  the  educated  man  seems  occasionally  to 
hold.  If  that  spirit  be  the  mere  excrescence  of  the  music  hall,  or 
an  ignorant  assertion  of  superiority  to  the  foreigner,  it  may  be 
ridiculous,  indeed  it  may  even  be  nationally  dangerous ;  but  if  the 
national  spirit  takes  the  form  of  a  strong  feeling  of  the  importance 
of  organizing  the  nation  as  a  whole,  of  making  its  social  and 
economic  conditions  such  that  it  is  able  to  do  its  work  in  the 
world  and  meet  its  fellows  without  hesitation  in  the  field  and  in 
the  market,  then  it  seems  to  me  a  wholly  good  spirit,  —  indeed, 
one  of  the  highest  forms  of  social  —  that  is,  moral  —  instinct. 

So  far  from  our  having  too  much  of  this  spirit  of  patriotism,  I 
doubt  if  we  have  any  thing  like  enough  of  it.  We  wait  to  improve 
the  condition  of  some  class  of  workers  until  they  themselves  cry 
out  or  even  rebel  against  their  economic  condition.  We  do  not 
better  their  state  because  we  perceive  its  relation  to  the  strength 
and  stability  of  the  nation  as  a  whole.  Too  often  it  is  done  as  the 
outcome  of  a  blind  class  war.  The  coal  owners,  the  miners,  the 
manufacturers,  the  mill  hands,  the  landlords,  the  farmers,  and 
the  agricultural  laborers  struggle  by  fair  means,  and  occasionally 
by  foul,  against  each  other,  and,  in  doing  so,  against  the  nation 
at  large,  and  our  statesmen  as  a  rule  look  on.  That  was  the  cor- 
rect attitude  from  the  standpoint  of  the  old  political  economy. 
It  is  not  the  correct  attitude  from  the  standpoint  of  science  ;  for 
science  realizes  that  the  nation  is  an  organized  whole,  in  contin- 
ual struggle  with  its  competitors.  You  cannot  get  a  strong  and 
effective  nation  if  many  of  its  stomachs  are  half  fed  and  many 
of  its  brains  untrained.  We,  as  a  nation,  cannot  survive  in  the 
struggle  for  existence  if  we  allow  class  distinctions  to  perma- 
nently endow  the  brainless  and  to  push  them  into  posts  of 
national  responsibility.  The  true  statesman  has  to  limit  the  in- 
ternal struggle  of  the  community  in  order  to  make  it  stronger 
for  the  external  struggle.  We  must  reward  ability,  we  must  pay 
for  brains,  we  must  give  larger  advantage  to  physique ;  but  we 


NATIONAL  LIFE  407 

must  not  do  this  at  a  rate  which  renders  the  lot  of  the  mediocre 
an  unhappy  one.  We  must  foster  exceptional  brains  and  physique 
for  national  purposes  ;  but  however  useful  prize  cattle  may  be, 
they  are  not  bred  for  their  own  sake,  but  as  a  step  toward  the 
improvement  of  the  whole  herd. 

If  I  have  put  my  position  at  all  clearly,  you  will  see  how  the 
key  to  it  lies  in  the  gregarious  nature  of  man.  The  older  evo- 
lutionists overlooked  several  of  the  factors  of  the  struggle  for 
existence.  They  emphasized,  in  a  way  which  now  appears  almost 
absurd,  the  struggle  of  individual  with  individual.  They  do  not 
appear  to  have  recognized  that  many  of  the  characters  which 
give  man  his  foremost  place  in  the  animal  kingdom  were  evoked 
in  the  struggle  of  tribe  against  tribe,  of  race  against  race,  and 
even  of  man  as  a  whole  against  other  forms  of  life  and  against 
his  physical  environment.  Like  the  older  political  economists, 
they  thought  all  real  progress  depended  upon  an  all-round  fight 
within  the  community.  They  forgot  that,  the  herd  exists  owing 
to  its  social  instincts,  and  that  human  sympathy  and  racial  and 
national  feelings  are  strong  natural  forces  controlling  individual 
conduct  and  economic  theories  based  purely  on  questions  of  supply 
and  demand.  It  is  the  herd,  the  tribe,  or  the  nation  which  forms 
the  fundamental  unit  in  the  evolution  of  man,  and  it  is  to  the 
leaders  of  the  herd,  or  nation,  that  we  ought  to  look  for  conscious 
recognition  of  this  fact. 

If  they  are  true  statesmen  they  ought  not  merely  to  advance 
in  the  direction  they  may  be  pushed  by  the  immediate  needs  of 
one  overburdened  class,  or  by  the  overloud  cry  of  another,  for 
the  time  being,  dominant  group  ;  they  ought  to  look  upon  the 
community  as  an  organized  whole,  and  treat  class  needs  and 
group  cries  from  the  standpoint  of  the  efficiency  of  the  herd  at 
large.  Their  duty  is  to  lessen,  if  not  to  suspend,  the  internal 
struggle,  that  the  nation  may  be  strong  externally.  One  point 
only  is  fundamental  in  that  suspension  of  the  internal  struggle, 
and  this  holds  for  man  as  for  every  gregarious  animal :  social 
sympathy  and  state  aid  must  not  be  carried  so  far  within  the 
community  that  the  intellectually  and  physically  weaker  stocks 
multiply  at  the  same  rate  as  the  better  stocks. 


408  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  dearth  of  brains  and  the  dearth  of  physique  are  the  worst 
misfortunes  that  can  befall  a  nation,  and  yet  how  many  of  our 
rulers  realize  that  brains  and  physique  are  not  things  scattered 
at  random  among  the  population,  which  they  can  lay  their  hands 
on  whenever  they  need  them  ?  Our  legislators  get  wonderfully 
excited  over  laws  relating  to  horses  and  cattle ;  they  devote 
money  and  time  to  breeding  purposes,  and  realize  the  strength  of 
the  law  of  inheritance  when  they  endow  national  studs  and  give 
prizes  to  encourage  the  maintenance  of  good  stock,  or  when 
again  they  work  for  the  establishment  of  selected  herds.  But 
which  of  them  has  considered  domestic  legislation  from  the 
natural-history  standpoint  ?  What  statesman  has  remembered  that 
in  the  character  of  the  national  fertility  of  to-day  is  written  the 
strength  or  weakness  of  the  nation  to-morrow  ?  I  fear  we  leave 
these  things  to  chance,  to  the  caprice  of  individual  selfishness. 
As  long  as  the  social  conditions  were  such  that  the  weak  within 
the  community  were  not  protected  by  the  state,  as  long  as  there 
was  no  restriction  on  the  fertility  of  the  better  stocks,  we  might 
in  a  rough-and-ready  manner  trust  that  our  population  would  be 
recruited  from  its  fitter  members.  But  with  the  social  movements 
of  the  present  day,  the  reduction  in  infantile  mortality,  princi- 
pally of  the  inferior  stocks,  and  the  reduction  in  the  birth  rate, 
principally  of  the  superior  stocks,  science  may  well  call  the  atten- 
tion of  our  rulers  to  a  possible  famine,  —  a  day  when  we  shall 
want  brains  and  physique,  and  shall  not  find  the  necessary  reserve 
for  them. 

Take  the  case  of  genius  alone.  Mr.  Galton  has  shown  us  that 
it  largely  arises  from  special  stocks  ;  but  if  those  stocks  decrease 
their  output,  then  by  so  much  does  the  rare  chance  of  a  man  of 
genius  appearing  grow  rarer.  Again,  I  repeat,  we  may,  after 
all,  only  want  brains  in  the  right  place.  But  besides  the  need  of 
them  in  South  Africa,  which  was  recently  fairly  manifest,  look  to 
any  branch  of  national  We,  and  may  we  not  fear  the  dearth  has 
already  begun  ?  Where  are  the  young  men  in  the  political  world 
who  can  stir  even  a  small  section  of  the  community  to  united 
action  ?  Where  are  the  younger  civil  servants  to  replace  our 
dying  proconsuls,  and  to  whom  the  nation  can  commit  with  a 


NATIONAL  LIFE  409 

feeling  of  security  and  confidence  the  future  problems  of  South 
Africa  ?  Where  are  the  new  writers  to  whom  the  nation  listens 
as  it  did  to  Carlyle,  Ruskin,  and  Browning  ?  or  for  whose  books 
it  eagerly  waits  as  for  those  of  Thackeray  and  George  Eliot  ? 
Where  are  the  leaders  of  science  who  will  make  the  epoch  that 
Darwin  and  Huxley  made  in  biology,  or  Faraday  and  Clerk 
Maxwell  in  physics  ?  There  may  be  steady  average  ability,  but 
where  is  the  fire  of  genius,  the  spirit  of  enthusiasm,  which  creates 
the  leader  of  men  either  in  thought  or  action  ?  Alas  !  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  see  any  light  on  the  horizon  predicting  the  dawn  of  an 
intellectual  renaissance,  or  heralding  social  and  political  reforms 
such  as  carried  the  nation  through  the  difficult  fifty  years  of  the 
middle  of  this  century.  Possibly  our  strong  men  may  have  got 
into  the  wrong  places.  Ability  may  have  drifted  on  to  the  Stock 
Exchange,  the  race  course,  or  the  cricket  field,  for  aught  I  can 
say  to  the  contrary ;  but  I  must  confess  to  feeling  sometimes 
that  an  actual  dearth  is  upon  us.  And  if  this  should  be  so,  then 
the  unchangeable  law  of  heredity  shows  us  only  too  clearly  the 
source  :  we  have  multiplied  from  the  inferior  and  not  from  the 
superior  stocks. 


XIV 

THE  PROLONGATION  OF  INFANCY1 

It  is  now  time  to  propose  an  answer  to  the  question,  already 
twice  suggested  and  partly  answered,  How  did  social  evolution 
originate?  Starting  from  the  researches  of  Sir  Henry  Maine, 
which  are  supported  by  those  of  Messrs.  Tylor,  M'Lennan,  and 
Lubbock,  we  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  originated  when 
families,  temporarily  organized  among  all  the  higher  gregarious 
mammals,  became  in  the  case  of  the  highest  mammal  perma- 
nently organized.  Starting  from  the  deductions  of  Mr.  Wallace, 
we  have  seen  reason  for  believing  that  civilization  originated 
when  in  the  highest  mammal  variations  in  intelligence  became 
so  much  more  important  than  variations  in  physical  structure 
that  they  began  to  be  seized  upon  by  natural  selection  to  the 
relative  exclusion  of  the  latter.  In  the  permanent  family  we 
have  the  germ  of  society.  In  the  response  to  outer  relations 
by  psychical  changes,  which  almost  completely  subordinate  physi- 
cal changes,  we  have  the  germ  of  civilization.  Let  us  now  take 
a  step  in  advance  of  previous  speculation,  and  see  what  can  be 
done  by  combining  these  two  theorems,  so  that  the  permanent 
organization  of  families  and  the  complex  intelligence  of  the 
highest  mammal  will  appear  in  their  causal  relations  to  each 
other. 

Many  mammals  are  gregarious,  and  gregariousness  implies 
incipient  power  of  combination  and  of  mutual  protection.  But 
gregariousness  differs  from  sociality  by  the  absence  of  definitive 
family  relationships,  except  during  the  brief  and  intermittent 
periods  in  which  there  are  helpless  offspring  to  be  protected. 
Now  it  might  be  maintained  that  the  complex  intelligence  of 
the  highest  mammal  led  him  vaguely  to  recognize  the  advantage 

1  From  Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy,  by  John  Fiske,  Part  II,  chap,  xxii, 
pp.  340-348,  360-362  (copyright,  1874,  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston). 

410 


THE  PROLONGATION  OF  INFANCY  411 

of  associating  in  more  and  more  permanent  groups  for  the 
sake  of  mutual  protection.  From  this  point  of  view  Mr.  Darwin 
argues  that  men  were  originally  a  race  of  weak  and  mild  crea- 
tures like  chimpanzees,  and  not  a  race  of  strong  and  ferocious 
creatures  like  gorillas,  and  were  accordingly  forced  to  combine 
because  unable  to  defend  themselves  singly.  It  is  undeniable 
that  man  is,  relatively  to  his  size,  a  weak  animal ;  and  there  is 
much  value  in  Mr.  Darwin's  suggestion,  in  so  far  as  it  goes  to 
explain  the  origin  of  gregariousness  among  those  primates  who 
were  the  ancestors  of  man.  Nevertheless,  it  can  hardly  be  said 
to  explain  sociality  as  distinguished  from  gregariousness.  It  may 
also  be  argued  that  the  superior  sagacity  even  of  the  lowest  sav- 
age makes  him  quite  a  formidable  antagonist  to  animals  much 
more  powerful  than  himself.  Besides,  the  study  of  savage  life 
brings  out  results  at  variance  with  the  notion  of  man's  primitive 
gentleness.  A  strong  case  might  be  made  in  support  of  the  state- 
ment that  uncivilized  man  is  an  extremely  ferocious  animal,  and 
that  among  savage  races,  which  certainly  differ  very  notably  in 
natural  ferocity  of  disposition,  the  most  ferocious  tribes  are  often 
the  most  likely  to  become  dominant  and  assist  social  integration 
by  subduing  other  tribes.  The  earliest  annals  of  the  highest  of 
human  races,  the  Aryan,  certainly  bear  witness  to  extreme  ferocity, 
checked  and  determined  in  its  direction  by  a  moral  sense  fur- 
ther developed  than  that  of  savages.  While  recognizing,  there- 
fore, the  value  of  Mr.  Darwin's  suggestion,  so  far  as  it  goes,  I 
believe  that  the  true  explanation  lies  much  further  beneath  the 
surface. 

It  will  be  remembered  that,  in  treating  of  the  parallel  evolu- 
tion of  the  mind  and  the  nervous  system,  it  was  shown  that  the 
increase  of  intelligence  in  complexity  and  speciality  involves  a 
lengthening  of  the  period  during  which  the  nervous  connections 
involved  in  ordinary  adjustments  are  becoming  organized.  Even 
if  the  physical  interpretation  there  given  should  turn  out  to 
be  inadequate,  the  fact  remains  undeniable,  that  while  the  nerv- 
ous connections  accompanying  a  simple  intelligence  are  already 
organized  at  birth,  the  nervous  connections  accompanying  a  com- 
plex intelligence  are  chiefly  organized  after  birth.  Thus  there 


412  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

arise  the  phenomena  of  infancy,  which  are  nonexistent  among 
those  animals  whose  psychical  actions  are  purely  reflex  and 
(/Instinctive.  Infancy,  psychologically  considered,  is  the  period 
during  which  the  nerve  connections  and  correlative  ideal  associa- 
tions necessary  for  self-maintenance  are  becoming  permanently 
established.  Now  this  period,  which  only  begins  to  exist  when 
the  intelligence  is  considerably  complex,  becomes  longer  and 
longer  as  the  intelligence  increases  in  complexity.  In  the  human 
race  it  is  much  longer  than  in  any  other  race  of  mammals,  and 
it  is  much  longer  in  the  civilized  man  than  in  the  savage.  Indeed, 
among  the  educated  classes  of  civilized  society,  its  average  dura- 
tion may  be  said  to  be  rather  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
since  during  all  this  time  those  who  are  to  live  by  brain  work 
are  simply  acquiring  the  capacity  to  do  so,  and  are  usually  sup- . 
ported  upon  the  products  of  parental  labor. 

It  need  not  be  said  that,  on  the  general  theory  of  evolution, 
the  passage  from  the  short  infancy  of  other  primates  to  the  rela- 
tively long  infancy  witnessed  among  the  lowest  contemporary 
savages  cannot  have  been  a  sudden  one.  But  a  special  reason 
may  be  assigned  why  nature,  which  never  makes  long  jumps,  must 
have  been  incapable  of  making  this  particular  jump.  Throughout 
the  animal  kingdom  the  period  of  infancy  is  correlated  with  the 
feelings  of  parental  affection,  sometimes  confined  to  the  mother, 
but  often  shared  by  the  father,  as  in  the  case  of  animals  which 
mate.  Where,  as  among  the  lower  animals,  there  is  no  infancy, 
there  is  no  parental  affection.  Where  the  infancy  is  very  short, 
the  parental  feeling,  though  intense  while  it  lasts,  presently 
disappears,  and  the  offspring  cease  to  be  distinguished  from 
strangers  of  the  same  species.  And  in  general  the  duration  of 
the  feelings  which  insure  the  protection  of  the  offspring  is  deter- 
mined by  the  duration  of  the  infancy.  The  agency  of  natural 
selection  in  maintaining  this  balance  is  too  obvious  to  need  illus- 
tration. Hence,  if  long  infancies  could  have  suddenly  come  into 
existence  among  a  primitive  race  of  apelike  men,  the  race  would 
have  quickly  perished  from  inadequate  persistence  of  the  parental 
affections.  The  prolongation  must  therefore  have  been  gradual, 
and  the  same  increase  of  intelligence  to  which  it  was  due  must 


THE  PROLONGATION  OF   INFANCY  413 

also  have  prolonged  the  correlative  parental  feelings,  by  associ- 
ating them  more  and  more  with  anticipations  and  memories. 
The  concluding  phases  of  this  long  change  may  be  witnessed  in 
the  course  of  civilization.  Our  parental  affections  now  endure 
through  life ;  and  while  their  fundamental  instinct  is  perhaps  no 
stronger  than  in  savages,  they  are,  nevertheless,  far  more  effect- 
ively powerful,  owing  to  our  far  greater  power  of  remembering 
the  past  and  anticipating  the  future. 

I  believe  we  have  now  reached  a  very  thorough  and  satisfac- 
tory explanation  of  the  change  from  gregariousTxp^  tr>  sociality 
Bear  in  mind'  that  I  am  not  indulging  in  pure  hypothesis.  The 
prolongation  of  infancy  accompanying  the  development  of  intel- 
ligence, and  the  correlative  extension  of  parental  feelings,  are 
facts  established  by  observation  wherever  observation  is  possible. 
And  to  maintain  that  the  correlation  of  these  phenomena  was 
kept  up  during  an  epoch  which  is  hidden  from  observation,  and 
can  only  be  known  by  inference,  is  to  make  a  genuine  induction, 
involving  no  other  assumption  than  that  the  operations  of  nature 
are  uniform.  To  him  who  is  still  capable  of  believing  that  the 
human  race  was  created  by  miracle  in  a  single  day,  with  all  its 
attributes,  physical  and  psychical,  compounded  and  proportioned 
just  as  they  now  are,  the  present  inquiry  is,  of  course,  devoid  of 
significance.  But  for  the  evolutionist  there  would  seem  to  be 
no  alternative  but  to  accept,  when  once  propounded,  the  present 
series  of  inferences. 

For  the  process  here  described,  when  long  enough  continued, 
must  inevitably  differentiate  and  integrate  a  herd  or  troop  of 
gregarious  apelike  men  into  a  number  of  small  family  communi- 
ties such  as  are  now  found  among  the  lowest  savages.  The  , 
prolonged  helplessness  of  the  offspring  must  keep  the  parents 
together  for  longer  and  longer  periods  in  successive  epochs  ;  and 
when  at  last  the  association  is  so  long  kept  up  that  the  older 
children  are  growing  mature  while  the  younger  ones  still  need 
protection,  the  family  relations  begin  to  become  permanent.  The 
parents  have  lived  so  long  in  company,  that  to  seek  new  com- 
panionships involves  some  disturbance  of  ingrained  habits  ;  and 
meanwhile  the  older  sons  are  more  likely  to  continue  their  original 


414  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

association  with  each  other  than  to  establish  associations  with 
strangers,  since  they  have  common  objects  to  achieve,  and 
common  enmities,  bequeathed  and  acquired,  with  neighboring 
(/'families.  As  the  parent  dies,  the  headship  of  the  family  thus 
established  devolves  upon  the  oldest  or  bravest  or  most  saga- 
cious male  remaining.  Thus  the  little  group  gradually  becomes 
a  clan,  the  members  of  which  are  united  by  ties  considerably 
stronger  than  those  which  ally  them  to  members  of  adjacent 
clans,  with  whom  they  may  indeed  combine  to  resist  the  aggres- 
sions of  yet  further  outlying  clans',  or  of  formidable  beasts,  but 
towards  whom  their  feelings  are  usually  those  of  hostile  rivalry. 
It  remains  to  add,  that  the  family  groups  thus  constituted  differ 
widely  in  many  respects  from  modern  families,  and  do  not  afford 
the  materials  for  an  idyllic  picture  of  primeval  life.  Though 
always  ready  to  combine  against  the  attack  of  a  neighboring 
clan,  the  members  of  the  group  are  by  no  means  indisposed  to 
fight  among  themselves.  The  sociality  is  but  nascent :  infants  are 
drowned,  wives  are  beaten  to  death,  and  there  are  deadly  quarrels 
between  brothers.  So  in  modern  families  evanescent  barbarism 
shows  itself  in  internal  quarrels,  while  nevertheless  injury  offered 
from  without  is  resented  in  common.  A  more  conspicuous  differ- 
ence is  the  absence  of  monogamy  in  the  primitive  clan.  It  has  been, 
I  think,  demonstrated  —  and  for  the  evidence  in  detail  I  would 
refer  to  Sir  John  Lubbock's  excellent  treatise,  "The  Origin  of  Civ- 
ilization and  the  Primitive  Condition  of  Man,"  and  to  the  learned 
works  of  M'Lennan  and  Tylor  —  that  in  the  primitive  clan  all  the 
women  are  the  wives  of  all  the  men.  Traces  of  this  state  of  things, 
which  some  of  our  half -educated  "  reformers  "  would  fain  restore, 
are  found  all  over  the  world,  both  in  modern  savage  communities 
and  in  traditional  observances  preserved  by  communities  anciently 
civilized.  There  was  also,  as  Sir  Henry  Maine  has  proved,  entire 
community  of  lands  and  goods,  and  the  individual  possessed  no 
personal  rights  as  against  the  interests  of  the. clan.  And  let  us 
note,  in  conclusion,  that  this  state  of  things,  while  chiefly  brought 
about  by  the  process  of  direct  equilibration  above  described,  is 
just  that  which  natural  selection  must  assist  and  maintain  so  long 
as  the  incipient  community  is  small  and  encompassed  by  dangers. 


THE  PROLONGATION  OF  INFANCY  415 

Thus  we  cross  the  chasm  which  divides  animality  from  human- 
ity, gregariousness  from  sociality,  hedonism  from  morality,  the 
sense  of  pleasure  and  pain  from  the  sense  of  right  and  wrong. 
For  note  that  by  the  time  integration  has  resulted  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  permanent  family  group  with  definite  relationships 
between  the  members,  the  incentives  to  action  in  each  member 
of  the  group  have  become  quite  different  from  what  they  were  in 
a  state  of  mere  gregariousness.  Sympathy,  or  the  power  of  ideally 
reproducing  in  one's  self  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  another  person, 
is  manifested  in  a  rudimentary  form  by  all  gregarious  animals  of 
moderate  intelligence.  Not  unfrequently,  as  Mr.  Darwin  shows, 
a  baboon  has  been  known  to  risk  his  life  to  save  that  of  a  com- 
rade ;  and  the  higher  apes  habitually  take  under  their  care  young 
orphans  of  their  own  species.  It  is  evident  that  this  power  of 
sympathy  must  be  strengthened  and  further  developed  when  a 
number  of  individuals  are  brought  into  closer  and  more  enduring 
relationships,  even  though  these  come  far  short  of  what,  from 
our  modern  ethical  standard,  would  be  termed  loving.  Affection 
in  the  savage  clan  is  but  partially  preventive  of  fiendish  cruelty ; 
yet  there  is  an  ability  in  the  members  to  understand  each  other's 
feelings,  and  there  is  a  desire  for  the  approbation  of  fellow- 
clansmen.  Kinship  in  blood,  as  well  as  community  of  pursuits 
and  interests,  promotes  these  feelings.  Even  to-day  we  can  usually 
understand  the  mental  habits,  desires,  and  repugnances  of  our 
own  immediate  kindred  better  than  we  can  understand  those  of 
other  people  unrelated  to  us,  even  though  circumstances  may 
now  and  then  have  led  us  to  prefer  the  society  of  the  latter. 
We  can  more  readily  admire  their  excellences  and  condone 
their  faults,  for  their  faults  and  excellences  are  likely  to  be  in  a 
measure  our  own. 

Given  this  rudimentary  capacity  of  sympathy,  we  can  see  how 
family  integration  must  alter  and  complicate  the  emotional  incen- 
tives to  action.  While  the  individual  may  still  exercise  his  brute- 
like  predatory  instincts  upon  strangers  and  lower  animals,  and 
will,  indeed,  be  more  highly  approved  the  more  he  does  so,  on 
the  other  hand  there  is  a  curb  upon  his  exercise  of  them  within 
the  limits  of  the  clan.  There  is  a  nascent  public  opinion  which 


416  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

lauds  actions  beneficial  to  the  clan,  and  frowns  upon  actions 
detrimental  to  it ;  though  for  this  it  is  not  necessary  that  there 
should  be  a  generalization  of  the  effects  of  certain  actions,  any 
more  than  a  generalization  of  the  effects  of  hunger  is  needed  to 
insure  the  individual's  approval  of  eating.  The  mere  present 
sense  of  collective  pleasure  or  pain  is  enough  to  organize  the 
complex  feeling.  For  example,  when  a  marauding  expedition  upon 
a  neighboring  clan  is  defeated  by  the  cowardice  or  treachery 
of  one  of  the  party,  the  offender  is  perhaps  beaten,  kicked,  or 
killed.  The  present  sense  of  collective  pain  immediately  prompts 
the  actions  which  tend  to  repress  the  cowardice  or  treachery. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  pleasurable  states  which  result  in  all  the 
members  of  the  clan,  in  common,  after  an  exhibition  of  success- 
ful bravery,  immediately  generate  approval  of  the  man  who  is 
brave,  along  with  the  desire  to  imitate  him.  In  short,  to  quote 
Mr.  Spencer,  one  of  the  things  that  comes  to  be  strongly  asso- 
ciated in  the  mind  of  the  young  savage  with  marks  of  approval, 
"  which  are  symbolical  of  pleasures  in  general,  is  courage ;  and 
one  of  the  things  that  comes  to  be  associated  in  his  mind  with 
frowns  and  other  marks  of  enmity,  which  form  his  symbol  of 
unhappiness,  is  cowardice.  These  feelings  are  not  formed  in  him 
because  he  has  reasoned  his  way  to  the  truth  that  courage  is  use- 
ful to  his  tribe,  and  by  implication  to  himself,  or  to  the  truth 
that  cowardice  is  a  cause  of  evil.  In  adult  life  he  may,  perhaps, 
see  this ;  but  he  certainly  does  not  see  it  at  the  time  when 
bravery  is  thus  associated  in  his  consciousness  with  all  that  is 
good,  and  cowardice  with  all  that  is  bad.  Similarly,  there  are 
produced  in  him  feelings  of.  inclination  or  repugnance  towards 
other  lines  of  conduct  that  have  become  established  or  inter- 
dicted because  they  are  beneficial  or  injurious  to  the  tribe ; 
though  neither  the  young  nor  the  adults  know  why  they  have 
become  established  or  interdicted.  Instance  the  praiseworthi- 
ness  of  wife-stealing  and  the  viciousness  of  marrying  within  the 
tribe."  In  these  ways  the  establishment  of  permanent  family 
relationships  generates  new  incentives  to  action,  unknown  in  the 
previous  epoch  of  mere  gregariousness,  which  must  often,  and  in 
some  instances  habitually,  overrule  the  mere  animal  incentives 


THE  PROLONGATION  OF  INFANCY  417 

comprised  in  personal  pleasures  and  pains.    The  good  of  the  indi- 
vidual must  begin  to  yield  to  the  good  of  the  community. 

The  explanation,  as  I  have  shown,  is  to  be  found  in  that 
gradual  prolongation  of  the  period  of  infancy,  which  is  one  of 
the  consequences,  as  yet  but  partially  understood,  of  increasing 
intelligence.  Let  us  observe  the  causal  connections  so  far  as  we 
can  trace  them  out,  recalling  some  of  the  conclusions  reached 
in  the  chapter  on  the  Evolution  of  Mind. 

In  an  animal  whose  relations  with  its  environment  are  very 
simple,  resulting  in  an  experience  which  is  but  slightly  varied, 
the  combinations  of  acts  requisite  for  supporting  life  take  place 
with  a  regularity  and  monotony  approaching  the  monotonous 
regularity  with  which  the  functions  of  the  viscera  are  performed. 
Hence  the  tendency  to  perform  these  actions  is  completely  estab- 
lished at  birth  in  each  individual,  just  as  the  tendency  of  the 
viscera  to  perform  their  several  functions  is  preestablished,  all 
that  is  required  in  addition  being  simply  the  direct  stimulus  of 
outward  physical  opportunity.  And  the  psychical  life  of  such 
an  animal  we  call  purely  instinctive  or  automatic.  In  such  an 
animal  the  organized  experience  of  the  race  counts  for  every- 
thing, the  experience  of  the  individual  for  nothing,  save  as  con- 
tributing its  mite  towards  the  cumulated  experience  of  the  race. 
But  in  an  animal  whose  relations  with  its  environment  are  very 
complex,  resulting  in  an  experience  which  is  necessarily  varied  to 
a  considerable  extent  from  generation  to  generation,  the  com- 
binations of  acts  requisite  for  supporting  life  must  occur  sever- 
ally with  far  less  frequency  than  in  the  case  of  the  lower  animal 
just  considered.  Hence  the  tendency  to  perform  any  particular 
group  of  these  actions  will  not  be  completely  established  at  birth 
in  each  individual,  like  the  tendency  of  the  viscera  to  perform 
these  several  functions.  On  the  other  hand,  there  will  be  a 
multitude  of  conflicting  tendencies,  and  it  will  be  left  for  the 
circumstances  subsequent  to  birth  to  determine  which  groups  of 
tendencies  shall  be  carried  out  into  action.  The  psychical  life 
of  such  an  animal  is  no  longer  purely  automatic  or  instinctive.  A 
portion  of  its  life  is  spent  in  giving  direction  to  its  future  career, 


41 8      •         SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  in  thus  further  modifying  the  inherited  tendencies  with  which 
its  offspring  start  in  life.  In  such  an  animal  the  organized  experi- 
ence of  the  race  counts  for  much,  but  the  special  experience  of 
the  individual  counts  for  something  in  altering  the  future  career 
of  the  race.  Such  an  animal  is  capable  of  psychical  progress, 
and  such  an  animal  must  begin  life  not  with  matured  faculties 
but  as  an  infant.  Instead  of  a  few  actually  realized  capacities, 
it  starts  with  a  host  of  potential  capacities,  of  which  the  play  of 
circumstance  must  determine  what  ones  shall  be  realizable. 

Manifestly,  therefore,  the  very  state  of  things  which  made 
psychical  variation  more  advantageous  to  the  progenitors  of 
mankind  than  physical  variation,  this  very  state  of  things  simul- 
taneously conspired  to  enhance  the  progressiveness  of  primeval 
man  and  to  prolong  the  period  of  his  infancy,  until  the  plastic 
or  malleable  part  of  his  life  came  to  extend  over  several  years 
instead  of  terminating  in  rigidity  in  the  course  of  four  or  five 
months,  as  with  the  orang-outang.  Upon  the  consequences  of 
this  state  of  things,  in  gradually  bringing  about  that  capacity  for 
progress  which  distinguishes  man  from  all  lower  animals,  I  need 
not  further  enlarge.  What  we  have  here  especially  to  note,  amid 
the  entanglement  of  all  these  causes  conspiring  to  educe  human- 
ity from  animality,  is  the  fact,  illustrated  above,  that  this  pro- 
longation of  infancy  was  manifestly  the  circumstance  which  knit 
those  permanent  relationships,  giving  rise  to  reciprocal  necessi- 
ties of  behavior,  which  distinguish  the  rudest  imaginable  family 
group  of  men  from  the  highest  imaginable  association  of  gregari- 
ous nonhuman  Primates. 

Additional  References  : 

Herbert  Spencer,  The  Factors  of  Organic  Evolution,  in  Essays:  Scientific, 
Political,  and  Speculative,  Vol.  I.  Geddes  and  Thompson,  The  Evolution 
of  Sex,  chaps,  i,  ii,  xix,  xxi.  Robert  Mackintosh,  From  Comte  to  Benjamin 
Kidd.  August  Weismann,  The  <}erm  Plasm  :  a  Theory  of  Heredity.  George 
John  Romanes,  An  Examination  of  Weismannism.  Alfred  Russell  Wallace, 
Studies :  Scientific  and  Social.  R.  L.  Dugdale,  The  Jukes.  Oscar  C.  McCul- 
loh,  The  Tribe  of  Ishmael.  Arthur  Fairbanks,  Introduction  to  Sociology, 
Part  III.  H.  W.  Conn,  The  Method  of  Evolution. 


B.  THE  PSYCHICAL  FACTORS 


XV 

COMPARISON    OF    MORAL    AND    INTELLECTUAL 

LAWS  AND  INQUIRY  AS  TO  THE  INFLUENCE 

OF  EACH  ON  THE  PROGRESS  OF  SOCIETY1 

It  has,  I  trust,  been  made  apparent  that  whatever  may  hereafter 
be  the  case,  we,  looking  merely  at  the  present  state  of  our  knowl- 
edge, must  pronounce  the  metaphysical  method  to  be  unequal 
to  the  task,  often  imposed  upon  it,  of  discovering  the  laws  which 
regulate  the  movements  of  the  human  mind.  We  are  therefore 
driven  to  the  only  remaining  method,  according  to  which  mental 
phenomena  are  to  be  studied,  not  simply  as  they  appear  in  the 
mind  of  the  individual  observer  but  as  they  appear  in  the  actions 
of  mankind  at  large.  The  essential  opposition  between  these  two 
plans  is  very  obvious  ;  but  it  may  perhaps  be  well  to  bring  forward 
further  illustration  of  the  resources  possessed  by  each  for  the 
investigation  of  truth  ;  and  for  this  purpose  I  will  select  a  sub- 
ject which,  though  still  imperfectly  understood,  supplies  a  beau- 
tiful instance  of  the  regularity  with  which,  under  the  most  con- 
flicting circumstances,  the  great  laws  of  nature  are  able  to  hold 
their  course. 

The  case  to  which  I  refer  is  that  of  the  proportion  kept  up  in  the 
births  of  the  sexes,  —  a  proportion  which,  if  it  were  to  be  greatly 
disturbed  in  any  country,  even  for  a  single  generation,  would 
throw  society  into  the  most  serious  confusion,  and  would  infal- 
libly cause  a  great  increase  in  the  vices  of  the  people.2  Now  it 

1  From  The  History  of  Civilization  in  England,   by  Henry  Thomas  Buckle, 
chap.  iv. 

2  Thus  we  find  that  the  Crusades,  by  diminishing  the  proportion  of  men  to 
women  in  Europe,  increased  licentiousness.    See  a  curious  passage  in  Sprengel, 
Histoire  de  la  Medecine,  Vol.  II,  p.  376.     In  Yucatan  there  is  generally  a  con- 
siderable excess  of  women,  and  the   result  is  prejudicial   to   morals  (Stephens' 

419 


420  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

has  always  been  suspected  that  on  an  average  the  male  and  female 
births  are  tolerably  equal ;  but  until  very  recently  no  one  could 
tell  whether  or  not  they  are  precisely  equal,  or,  if  unequal,  on 
which  side  there  is  an  excess.1  The  births  being  the  physical 
result  of  physical  antecedents,  it  was  clearly  seen  that  the  laws 
of  the  births  must  be  in  those  antecedents;  that  is  to  say,  that 
the  causes  of  the  proportion  of  the  sexes  must  reside  in  the  par- 
ents themselves.2  Under  these  circumstances  the  question  arose, 
if  it  was  not  possible  to  elucidate  this  difficulty  by  our  knowledge 
of  animal  physiology ;  for  it  was  plausibly  said,  "  Since'  physiol- 
ogy is  a  study  of  the  laws  of  the  body,3  and  since  all  births  are 
products  resulting  from  the  body,  it  follows  that  if  we  know  the 
laws  of  the  body,  we  shall  know  the  laws  of  the  birth."  This 
was  the  view  taken  by  physiologists  of  our  origin ; 4  and  this  is 

Central  America,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  380,  429).  On  the  other  hand,  respecting  the  state 
of  society  produced  by  an  excess  of  males,  see  Mallet's  Northern  Antiquities, 
p.  259;  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  XV,  p.  45;  Vol.  XVI,  p.  307; 
Southey's  Commonplace  Book,  third  series,  p.  579. 

1  On  this  question  a  variety  of  conflicting  statements  may  be  seen  in  the  older 
writers.    Goodman,  early  in  the  seventeenth  century,  supposed  that  more  females 
were   bom    than    males  (Southey's    Commonplace    Book,  third   series,   p.   696). 
Turgot  (OZuvres,  Vol.  II,  p.  247)  rightly  says,  "  II  nait  un  peu  plus  d'hommes  que 
de  femmes  " ;  but  the  evidence  was  too  incomplete  to  make  this  more  than  a 
lucky  guess ;  and  I  find  that  even  Herder,  writing  in  1785,  takes  for  granted  that  the 
proportion  was  about  equal :  "  ein  ziemliches  Gleichmass  in  den  Geburten  beider 
Geschlechter  "  (Ideen  zur  Geschichte,  Vol.  II,  p.  149) ;  and  was  sometimes  in  favor 
of  girls :  "  ja,  die  Nachrichten  mehrerer  Reisenden  machen  es  wahrscheinlich,  dass 
in  manchen  dieser  Gegenden  wirklich  mehr  Tochter  als  Sohne  geboren  werden." 

2  A  question,  indeed,  has  been  raised  as  to  the  influence  exercised  by  the  state 
of  the  mind  during  the  period  of  orgasm.     But  whatever  this  influence  may  be, 
it  can  only  affect   the  subsequent  birth   through   and  by  physical  antecedents, 
which  in  every  case  must  be  regarded  as  the  proximate  cause.     If,  therefore,  the 
influence  were  proved  to  exist,  we  should  still  have  to  search  for  physical  laws, 
though  such  laws  would  of  course  be  considered  merely  as  secondary  ones,  resolv- 
able into  some  higher  generalization. 

8  Some  writers  treat  physiology  as  a  study  of  the  laws  of  life.  But  this,  look- 
ing at  the  subject  as  it  now  stands,  is  far  too  bold  a  step,  and  several  branches  of 
knowledge  will  have  to  be  raised  from  their  present  empirical  state  before  the 
phenomena  of  life  can  be  scientifically  investigated.  The  more  rational  mode 
seems  to  be,  to  consider  physiology  and  anatomy  as  correlative,  the  first  forming 
the  dynamical,  and  the  second  forming  the  statical,  part  of  the  study  of  organic 
structure. 

4  "  Voulez-vous  savoir  de  quoi  depend  le  sexe  des  enfants  ?  Fernel  vous  repond, 
sur  la  foi  des  anciens,  qu'il  depend  des  qualites  de  la  semence  du  pere  et  de  la 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    42 1 

precisely  the  view  taken  by  metaphysicians  of  our  history.  Both 
parties  believed  that  it  was  possible  at  once  to  rise  to  the  cause 
of  the  phenomenon,  and  by  studying  its  laws  predict  the  phe- 
nomenon itself.  The  physiologist  said,  "  By  studying  individual 
bodies,  and  thus  ascertaining  the  laws  which  regulate  the  union 
of  the  parents,  I  will  discover  the  proportion  of  the  sexes,  because 
the  proportion  is  merely  the  result  to  which  the  union  gives  rise." 
Just  in  the  same  way,  the  metaphysician  says,  "  By  studying 
individual  minds,  I  will  ascertain  the  laws  which  govern  their 
movements ;  and  in  that  way  I  will  predict  the  movements 
of  mankind,  which  are  obviously  compounded  of  the  individual 
movements." l  These  are  the  expectations  which  have  been 
confidently  held  out  by  physiologists  respecting  the  laws  of  the 
sexes,  and  by  metaphysicians  respecting  the  laws  of  history. 
Towards  the  fulfillment,  however,  of  these  promises  the  meta- 
physicians have  done  absolutely  nothing,  nor  have  the  physi- 
ologists been  more  successful,  although  their  views  have  the 
support  of  anatomy,  which  admits  of  the  employment  of  direct 
experiment,  a  resource  unknown  to  metaphysics.  But  towards 
settling  the  present  question,  all  this  availed  them  nothing ;  and 

mere"  (Renouard,  Histoire  de  la  Medecine,  Paris,  1846,  Vol.  II,  p.  106);  see  also, 
at  p.  185,  the  opinion  of  Hippocrates,  adopted  by  Galen;  and  similar  views  in 
Lepelletier,  Physiologic  Medicale,  Vol.  IV,  p.  332,  and  Sprengel,  Histoire  de  la 
Medecine,  Vol.  I,  pp.  252,  310;  Vol.  II,  p.  115;  Vol.  IV,  p.  62.  For  further 
information  as  to  the  opinions  which  have  been  held  respecting  the  origin  of 
sexes,  see  Beausobre,  Histoire  de  Manichee,  Vol.  II,  p.  417;  Asiatic  Researches, 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  358,  361  ;  Vishnu  Purana,  p.  349 ;  Works  of  Sir  William  Jones, 
Vol.  Ill, p.  126;  Ritter's  History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  191  ;  Denham 
and  Clapperton's  Africa,  pp.  323,  324 ;  Maintenon,  Lettres  Inedites,  Vol.  II,  p.  62  ; 
and  the  view  of  Hohl  (Burdach,  Physiologic,  Vol.  II,  p.  472) :  "que  les  femmes 
chez  lesquelles  predomine  le  systeme  arteriel  procreent  des  garfons,  au  lieu  que 
celles  dont  le  systeme  veineux  a  la  predominance  mettent  au  monde  des  filles." 
According  to  Anaxagoras,  the  question  was  extremely  simple :  ical  Appeva  fj^v  dird 
TUV  5e£i<2>«',  077\ea  5£  airb  rCsv  dpto-repuv  (Diog.  Laert.,  ii,  9,  Vol.  I,  p.  85). 

1  "  Le  metaphysicien  se  voit  comme  la  source  de  1'evidence  et  le  confident  de 
la  nature:  Moi  seul,  dit-il,  je  puis  generaliser  les  idees,  et  decouvrir  le  germe  des 
evenements  qui  se  developpent  journellement  dans  le  monde  physique  et  moral ; 
et  c'est  par  moi  seul  que  1'homme  peut  etre  eclaire  "  (Helvetius,  De  1'Esprit,  Vol.  I, 
p.  86).  Compare  Herder,  Ideen  zur  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,  Vol.  II,  p.  105. 
Thus,  too,  M.  Cousin  (Histoire  de  la  Philosophic,  IIe  serie,  Vol.  I,  p.  131)  says, 
"  Le  fait  de  la  conscience  transporte  de  1'individu  dans  1'espece  et  dans  1'histoire, 
est  la  clef  de  tous  les  developpements  de  1'humanite." 


422  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

physiologists  are  not  yet  possessed  of  a  single  fact  which  throws 
any  light  on  this  problem  :  Is  the  number  of  male  births  equal 
to  female  births,  is  it  greater,  or  is  it  less  ? 

These  are  questions  to  which  all  the  resources  of  physiologists, 
from  Aristotle  down  to  our  own  time,  afford  no  means  of  reply.1 
And  yet  at  the  present  day  we,  by  the  employment  of  what  now 
seems  a  very  natural  method,  are  possessed  of  a  truth  which  the 
united  abilities  of  a  long  series  of  eminent  men  failed  to  discover. 
By  the  simple  expedient  of  registering  the  number  of  births  and 
their  sexes,  —  by  extending  this  registration  over  several  years, 
in  different  countries,  —  we  have  been  able  to  eliminate  all  cas- 
ual disturbances  and  ascertain  the  existence  of  a  law  which, 
expressed  in  round  numbers,  is,  that  for  every  twenty  girls  there 
are  born  twenty-one  boys  ;  and  we  may  confidently  say  that 
although  the  operations  of  this  law  are  of  course  liable  to  con- 
stant aberrations,  the  law  itself  is  so  powerful  that  we  know  of 

1  Considering  the  very  long  period  during  which  physiology  has  been  studied, 
it  is  remarkable  how  little  the  physiologists  have  contributed  towards  the  great 
and  final  object  of  all  science,  namely,  the  power  of  predicting  events.  To  me  it 
appears  that  the  two  principal  causes  of  this  are :  the  backwardness  of  chemistry, 
and  the  still  extremely  imperfect  state  of  the  microscope,  which  even  now  is  so 
inaccurate  an  instrument  that  when  a  high  power  is  employed,  little  confidence 
can  be  placed  in  it ;  and  the  examination,  for  instance,  of  the  spermatozoa  has 
led  to  the  most  contradictory  results.  In  regard  to  chemistry,  MM.  Robin  and 
Verdeil,  in  their  recent  great  work,  have  ably  proved  what  manifold  relations 
there  are  between  it  and  the  further  progress  of  our  knowledge  of  the  animal 
frame,  though  I  venture  to  think  that  these  eminent  writers  have  shown  occa- 
sionally an  undue  disposition  to  limit  the  application  of  chemical  laws  to  physio- 
logical phenomena.  See  Robin  et  Verdil,  Chimie  Anatomique  et  Physiologique, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  20,  34,  167,337,  338,  437,  661  ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  136,  137,  508;  Vol.  Ill, 
pp.  135, 144,  183,  281,  283,  351,  547,  Paris,  1853.  The  increasing  tendency  of  chem- 
istry to  bring  under  its  control  what  are  often  supposed  to  be  purely  organic 
phenomena  is  noticed  cautiously  in  Turner's  Chemistry,  Vol.  II,  p.  1308,  London, 
1847;  and  boldly  in  Liebig's  Letters  on  Chemistry,  1851,  pp.  250,  251.  The  con- 
nection between  chemistry  and  physiology  is  touched  on  rather  too  hastily  in 
Bouilland,  Philosophic  Medicale,  pp.  160,  257;  Broussais,  Examen  des  Doctrines 
Medicales,  Vol.  IJI,  p.  166;  Brodie's  Lectures  on  Pathology,  p.  48;  Henle,  Traite 
d'Anatomie,  Vol.  I,  pp.  25,  26;  Feuchtersleben's  Medical  Psychology,  p.  88;  but 
better  in  Holland's  Medical  Notes,  1839,  p.  270,  a  thoughtful  and  suggestive  work. 
On  the  necessity  of  chemistry  for  increasing  our  knowledge  of  embryology,  com- 
pare Wagner's  Physiology,  pp.  131,  132,  note,  with  Burdach,  Traite  de  Physiologic, 
VoL  IV,  pp.  59,  1 68. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    423 

no  country  in  which  during  a  single  year  the  male  births  have 
not  been  greater  than  the  female  ones.1 

The  importance  and  the  beautiful  regularity  of  this  law  make 
us  regret  that  it  still  remains  an  empirical  truth,  not  having  yet 
been  connected  with  the  physical  phenomena  by  which  its  opera- 
tions are  caused.2  But  this  is  immaterial  to  my  present  purpose, 
which  is  only  to  notice  the  method  by  which  the  discovery  has 

1  It  used  to  be  supposed  that  some  of  the  Eastern  countries  formed  an  excep- 
tion to  this ;   but  more  precise  observations  have  contradicted  the  loose  state- 
ments of  the  earlier  travelers,  and  in  no  part  of  the  world,  so  far  as  our  knowledge 
extends,  are  more  girls  born  than  boys ;  while  in  every  part  of  the  world  for  which 
we  have  statistical  returns,  there  is  a  slight  excess  on  the  side  of  male  births. 
Compare  Marsden's  History  of  Sumatra,  p.  234 ;  Raffles'  History  of  Java,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  81,  82 ;  Sykes  on  the  Statistics  of  the  Deccan,  in  Reports  of  British  Associa- 
tion, Vol.  VI,  pp.  246,  261,  262  ;  Niebuhr,  Description  de  1'Arabie,  p.  63  ;  Humboldt, 
Nouv.  Espagne,  Vol.  I,  p.  139;  M' William,  Medical  History  of  Expedition  to  the 
Niger,  p.   113;    Elliotson's  Human    Physiology,  p.  795;    Thomson's   History  of 
Royal  Society,  p.  531  ;  Sadler's  Law  of  Population,  Vol.  I,  pp.  507,  511 ;  Vol.  II, 
pp.  324,  335;    Paris  and   Fonblanque's   Medical   Jurisprudence,  Vol.  I,  p.  259; 
Journal  of  Statistical  Society,  Vol.   Ill,  pp.   263,  264;  Vol.   XVII,  pp.  46,   123; 
Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  XX,  p.  17;  Fourth  Report  of  British  Asso- 
ciation, pp.  687,  689;  Report  for  1842,  pp.  144,  145;    Transactions  of  Sections  for 
1840,  p.  174;   for  1847,  p.  96;   for  1849,  P-  87;    Dufau,  Traite   de   Statistique, 
pp.  24,  209,  210;  Burdach,  Traite  de  Physiologic,  Vol.  II,  pp.  56,  57,  273,  274, 
281 ;  Vol.  V,  p.  373;  Hawkins'  Medical  Statistics,  pp.  221,  222. 

2  In  Muller's  Physiology,  Vol.  II,  p.  1657,  a  work  of  great  authority,  it  is  said, 
that  "  the  causes  which  determine  the  sex  of  the  embryo  are  unknown,  although 
it  appears  that  the  relative  age  of  the  parents  has  some  influence  over  the  sex  of 
the  offspring."    That  the  relative  age  of  the  parents  does  affect  the  sex  of  their 
children  may,  from  the  immense  amount  of  evidence  now  collected,  be  considered 
almost  certain  ;  but  M.  Miiller,  instead  of  referring  to  physiological  writers,  ought 
to  have  mentioned  that  the  statisticians,  and  not  the  physiologists,  were  the  first 
to  make  this  discovery.    On  this  curious  question,  see  Carpenter's  Human  Physi- 
ology, p.  746;  Sadler's  Law  of  Population,  Vol.  II,  pp.  333,  336,  342  ;  Journal  of 
Statistical  Society,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  263,  264.     In  regard  to  animals  below  man,  we 
find  from  numerous  experiments  that  among  sheep  and  horses  the  age  of  the 
parents  "  has   a  very  great   general   influence    upon  the  sex "  of  the  offspring. 
(Elliotson's   Physiology,  pp.   708,   709;    and   see    Cuvier,  Progres   des   Sciences 
Naturelles,  Vol.  II,  p.  406).    As  to  the  relation  between  the  origin  of  sex  and 
the  laws  of  arrested  development,  compare  Geoffroy   St.-Hilaire,   Histoire  des 
Anomalies  de  1'Organisation,  Vol.  II,  pp.  33,  34,  73 ;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  278,  with  Lindley's 
Botany,  Vol.  II,  p.  81.    In  Esquirol,  Maladies  Mentales,  Vol.  I,  p.  302,  there  is  a 
singular  case  recorded  by  LamotteT  which  would  seem  to  connect  this  question 
with  pathological  phenomena,  though  it  is  uncertain  whether  the  epilepsy  was  an 
effect  or  a  cognate  symptom. 


424  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

been  made.  For  this  method  is  obviously  analogous  to  that  by 
which  I  propose  to  investigate  the  operations  of  the  human  mind, 
while  the  old  and  unsuccessful  method  is  analogous  to  that  em- 
ployed by  the  metaphysicians.  As  long  as  physiologists  attempted 
to  ascertain  the  laws  of  the  proportion  of  sexes  by  individual 
experiments,  they  effected  absolutely  nothing  towards  the  end 
they  hoped  to  achieve.  But  when  men  became  dissatisfied 
with  these  individual  experiments,  and  instead  of  them  began 
to  collect  observations  less  minute  but  more  comprehensive,  then 
it  was  that  the  great  law  of  nature,  for  which  during  many  cen- 
turies they  had  vainly  searched,  first  became  unfolded  to  their 
view.  Precisely  in  the  same  way,  as  long  as  the  human  mind  is 
only  studied  according  to  the  narrow  and  contracted  method  of 
metaphysicians,  we  have  every  reason  for  thinking  that  the  laws 
which  regulate  its  movements  will  remain  unknown.  If,  there- 
fore, we  wish  to  effect  anything  of  real  moment,  it  becomes 
necessary  that  we  should  discard  those  old  schemes,  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  which  is  demonstrated  by  experience  as  well  as  by 
reason  ;  and  that  we  should  substitute  in  their  place  such  a  com- 
prehensive survey  of  facts  as  will  enable  us  to  eliminate  those 
disturbances  which,  owing  to  the  impossibility  of  experiment,  we 
shall  never  be  able  to  isolate. 

The  desire  that  I  feel  to  make  the  preliminary  views  of  this 
introduction  perfectly  clear  is  my  sole  apology  for  having  intro- 
duced a  digression  which,  though  adding  nothing  to  the  strength 
of  the  argument,  may  be  found  useful  as  illustrating  it,  and  will 
at  all  events  enable  ordinary  readers  to  appreciate  the  value  of 
the  proposed  method.  It  now  remains  for  us  to  ascertain  the 
manner  in  which,  by  the  application  of  this  method,  the  laws  of 
mental  progress  may  be  most  easily  discovered. 

If,  in  the  first  place,  we  ask  what  this  progress  is,  the  answer 
seems  very  simple  :  that  it  is  a  twofold  progress,  moral  and 
intellectual ;  the  first  having  more  immediate  relation  to  our 
duties,  the  second  to  our  knowledge.  This  is  a  classification 
which  has  been  frequently  laid  down,  and  with  which  most  persons 
are  familiar.  And  so  far  as  history  is  a  narration  of  results,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  division  is  perfectly  accurate.  There 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    425 

can  be  no  doubt  that  a  people  are  not  really  advancing  if,  on  the 
one  hand,  their  increasing  ability  is  accompanied  by  increasing 
vice,  or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  while  they  are  becoming  more  virtu- 
ous,* they  likewise  become  more  ignorant.  This  double  move- 
ment, moral  and  intellectual,  is  essential  to  the  very  idea  of 
civilization,  and  includes  the  entire  theory  of  mental  progress. 
To  be  willing  to  perform  our  duty  is  the  moral  part ;  to  know 
how  to  perform  it  is  the  intellectual  part ;  while  the  closer  these 
two  parts  are  knit  together,  the  greater  the  harmony  with  which 
they  work ;  and  the  more  accurately  the  means  are  adapted  to  the 
end,  the  more  completely  will  the  scheme  of  our  life  be  accom- 
plished, and  the  more  securely  shall  we  lay  a  foundation  for  the 
further  advancement  of  mankind. 

A  question,  therefore,  now  arises  of  great  moment :  namely, 
Which  of  these  two  parts  or  elements  of  mental  progress  is  the 
more  important.  For  the  progress  itself  being  the  result  of  their 
united  action,  it  becomes  necessary  to  ascertain  which  of  them 
works  more  powerfully,  in  order  that  we  may  subordinate  the 
inferior  element  to  the  laws  of  the  superior  one.  If  the  advance 
of  civilization  and  the  general  happiness  of  mankind  depend  more 
on  their  moral  feelings  than  on  their  intellectual  knowledge,  we 
must  of  course  measure  the  progress  of  society  by  those  feelings  ; 
while  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  depends  principally  on  their  knowl- 
edge, we  must  take  as  our  standard  the  amount  and  success  of 
their  intellectual  activity.  As  soon  as  we  know  the  relative  energy 
of  these  two  components,  we  shall  treat  them  according  to  the 
usual  plan  for  investigating  truth  ;  that  is  to  say,  we  shall  look 
at  the  product  of  their  joint  action  as  obeying  the  laws  of  the 
more  powerful  agent,  whose  operations  are  casually  disturbed  by 
the  inferior  laws  of  the  minor  agent. f 

In  entering  into  this  inquiry,  we  are  met  by  a  preliminary 
difficulty,  arising  from  the  loose  and  careless  manner  in  which 

*  Moral  and  intellectual  progress  are  equivalent  to  two  forms  of  adaptation, — 
intellectual  progress  being  a  greater  knowledge  of  our  relation  to  our  environ- 
ment, and  moral  progress  being  adaptation  to  our  social  environment.  —  ED. 

t  Compare  the  motive  of  self-interest  and  other  disturbing  elements  in  eco- 
nomic life.  —  ED. 


426  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

ordinary  language  is  employed  on  subjects  that  require  the  greatest 
nicety  and  precision.  For  the  expression,  "  moral  and  intellectual 
progress,"  is  suggestive  of  a  serious  fallacy.  In  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  generally  used,  it  conveys  an  idea  that  the  moral  and 
intellectual  faculties  of  men  are,  in  the  advance  of  civilization,  nat- 
urally more  acute  and  more  trustworthy  than  they  were  formerly. 
But  this,  though  it  may  possibly  be  true,  has  never  been  proved. 
It  may  be  that,  owing  to  some  physical  causes  still  unknown,  the 
average  capacity  of  the  brain  is,  if  we  compare  long  periods  of 
time,  becoming  gradually  greater ;  and  that  therefore  the  mind, 
which  acts  through  the  brain,  is,  even  independently  of  education, 
increasing  in  aptitude  and  in  the  general  competence  of  its  views.1 
Such,  however,  is  still  our  ignorance  of  physical  laws,  and  so 
completely  are  we  in  the  dark  as  to  the  circumstances  which 
regulate  the  hereditary  transmission  of  character,  temperament,2 

1  That  the  natural  powers  of  the  human  brain  are  improving  because  they  are 
capable  of  transmission  is  a  favorite  doctrine  with  the  followers  of  Gall,  and 
is  adopted  by  M.  A.  Comte  (Philosophic  Positive,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  384,  385),  who, 
however,  admits  that  it  has  never  been  sufficiently  verified :  "  sans  que  toutefois 
1'experience  ait  encore  suffisamment  prononce."    Dr.  Prichard,  whose  habits  of 
thought  were  very  different,  seems,  nevertheless,  inclined  to  lean  in  this  direction, 
for  his  comparison  of  skulls  led  him  to  the  conclusion  that  the  present  inhabit- 
ants of  Britain,  "  either  as  the  result  of  many  ages  of  greater  intellectual  cultiva- 
tion, or  from  some  other  cause,  have,  as  I  am  persuaded,  much  more  capacious 
brain  cases   than   their  forefathers"  (Prichard's   Physical   History  of  Mankind, 
Vol.  I,  p.  305).    Even  if  this  were  certain,  it  would  not  prove  that  the  contents  of 
the  crania  were  altered,  though  it  might  create  a  presumption;  and  the  general 
question  must,  I  think,  remain  unsettled  until  the  researches  begun  by  Blumen- 
bach,  and  recently  continued  by  Morton,  are  carried  out  upon  a  scale  far  more 
comprehensive  than  has  hitherto  been  attempted.    Compare  Burdach,  Traite  de 
Physiologic,  Vol.  II,  p.   253,  where,   however,  the  question  is  not  stated  with 
sufficient  caution. 

2  None  of  the  laws  of  hereditary  descent  connected  with  the  formation  of 
character  have  yet  been  generalized,  nor  is  our  knowledge  much  more  advanced 
respecting  the  theory  of  temperaments,  which  still  remains  the  principal  obstacle 
in  the  way  of  the  phrenologists.    The  difficulties  attending  the  study  of  tempera- 
ments, and  the  obscurity  in  which  this  important  subject  is  shrouded,  may  be 
estimated  by  whoever  will  compare  what  has  been  said  upon  it  by  the  following 
writers:  Muller's  Physiology,  Vol.  II,  pp.  1406-1410;  Elliotson's  Human  Physi- 
ology,  pp.  1059-1062;    Blainville,    Physiologic    Generate    et    Comparee,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  1 68,  264,  265;  Vol.  II,  pp.  43,  130,  214,  328,  329;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  54,  74,  118, 
148,  149,  284,  285;  Williams'  Principles  of  Medicine,  pp.  16,  17,  112,  113;  Geoff- 
roy    St.-Hilaire,  Anomalies    de    1'Organisation,  Vol.   I,  pp.   186,  190;    Broussais, 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    427 

and  other  personal  peculiarities,  that  we  must  consider  this  alleged 
progress  as  a  very  doubtful  point ;  and  in  the  present  state  of  our 
knowledge  we  cannot  safely  assume  that  there  has  been  any 
permanent  improvement  in  the  moral  or  intellectual  faculties 
of  man,  nor  have  we  any  decisive  ground  for  saying  that  these 
faculties  are  likely  to  be  greater  in  an  infant  born  in  the  most 
civilized  part  of  Europe  than  in  one  born  in  the  wildest  region 
of  a  barbarous  country.1 

Examen  des  Doctrines  Medicates,  Vol.  I,  pp.  204,  205;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  276;  Re- 
nouard,  Histoire  de  la  Medecine,  Vol.  I,  p.  326;  Sprengel,  Histoire  de  la  Medecine, 
Vol.  I,  p.  380;  Vol.  II,  p.  408;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  21;  Vol.  V,  p.  325;  Vol.  VI,  p.  492; 
Esquirol,  Maladies  Mentales,  Vol.  I,  pp.  39,  226,  429,  594;  Vol.  II,  p.  29;  Lepel- 
letier,  Physiologic  Medicate,  Vol.  I,  pp.  139,  281-  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  372-429;  Vol.  IV, 
pp.  93,  123,  133,  143,  148,  177  ;  Henle,  Anatomic  Generate,  Vol.  I,  p.  474 ;  Vol.  II, 
pp.  288,  289,  316;  Bichat,  Anatomic  Generate,  Vol.  I,  p.  207;  Vol.  II,  p.  444; 
Vol.  Ill,  pp.  310,  507;  Vol.  IV,  pp.  281,  399,  400,  504;  Bichat,  Sur  la  Vie,  pp.  80, 
81,  234,  235;  Phillips  on  Scrofula,  p.  9;  Feuchtersleben's  Medical  Psychology, 
pp.  143-145;  CEuvres  de  Fontenelle,  Vol.  V,  p.  no,  Paris,  1766;  Cullen's  Works, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  214-221,  Edinburgh,  1827;  Cabanis,  Rapports  du  Physique  et  du 
Moral,  pp.  76-83,  229-261,  520-533;  Noble  on  the  Brain,  pp.  370-376;  Combe's 
North  America,  Vol.  I,  pp.  126-128.  Latterly,  attention  has  been  paid  to  the 
chemistry  of  the  blood  as  it  varies  in  the  various  temperaments ;  and  this  seems 
a  more  satisfactory  method  than  the  old  plan  of  merely  describing  the  obvious 
symptoms  of  the  temperament.  Clark  on  Animal  Physiology,  in  Fourth  Report 
of  the  British  Association,  p.  126;  Simon's  Animal  Chemistry,  Vol.  I,  p.  236; 
Wagner's  Physiology,  p.  262. 

1  We  often  hear  of  hereditary  talents,  hereditary  vices,  and  hereditary  virtues; 
but  whoever  will  critically  examine  the  evidence  will  find  that  we  have  no  proof 
of  their  existence.  The  way  in  which  they  are  commonly  proved  is  in  the  highest 
degree  illogical,  the  usual  course  being  for  writers  to  collect  instances  of  some 
mental  peculiarity  found  in  a  parent  and  in  his  child,  and  then  to  infer  that  the 
peculiarity  was  bequeathed.  By  this  mode  of  reasoning  we  might  demonstrate 
any  proposition,  since  in  all  large  fields  of  inquiry  there  are  a  sufficient  number 
of  empirical  coincidences  to  make  a  plausible  case  in  favor  of  whatever  view  a 
man  chooses  to  advocate.  But  this  is  not  the  way  in  which  truth  is  discovered; 
and  we  ought  to  inquire  not  only  how  many  instances  there  are  of  hereditary 
talents,  etc.,  but  how  many  instances  there  are  of  such  qualities  not  being 
hereditary.  Until  something  of  this  sort  is  attempted,  we  can  know  nothing 
about  the  matter  inductively ;  while  until  physiology  and  chemistry  are  much 
more  advanced  we  can  know  nothing  about  it  deductively. 

These  considerations  ought  to  prevent  us  from  receiving  statements  (Taylor's 
Medical  Jurisprudence,  pp.  644,  678,  and  many  other  books)  which  positively 
affirm  the  existence  of  hereditary  madness  and  hereditary  suicide;  and  the  same 
remark  applies  to  hereditary  disease  (on  which  see  some  admirable  observations 
in  Phillips  on  Scrofula,  pp.  101-120,  London,  1846);  and  with  still  greater  force 


428  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Whatever,  therefore,  the  moral  and  intellectual  progress  of  men 
may  be,  it  resolves  itself  not  into  a  progress  of  natural  capacity  J 
but  into  a  progress,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  opportunity  ;  that  is,  an 
improvement  in  the  circumstances  under  which  that  capacity  after 
birth  comes  into  play.  Here,  then,  lies  the  gist  of  the  whole 
matter.  The  progress  is  one  not  of  internal  power  but  of  external 
advantage.  The  child  born  in  a  civilized  land  is  not  likely,  as  such, 
to  be  superior  to  one  born  among  barbarians  ;  and  the  difference 
which  ensues  between  the  acts  of  the  two  children  will  be  caused, 
so  far  as  we  know,  solely  by  the  pressure  of  external  circum- 
stances ;  by  which  I  mean  the  surrounding  opinions,  knowledge, 
associations,  —  in  a  word,  the  entire  mental  atmosphere  in  which 
the  two  children  are  respectively  nurtured.* 

On  this  account  it  is  evident  that  if  we  look  at  mankind  in  the 
aggregate,  their  moral  and  intellectual  conduct  is  regulated  by 
the  moral  and  intellectual  notions  prevalent  in  their  own  time. 
There  are,  of  course,  many  persons  who  will  rise  above  those 
notions,  and  many  others  who  will  sink  below  them.  But  such 
cases  are  exceptional,  and  form  a  very  small  proportion  of  the 
total  amount  of  those  who  are  nowise  remarkable  either  for 


does  it  apply  to  hereditary  vices  and  hereditary  virtues  inasmuch  as  ethical  phe- 
nomena have  not  been  registered  as  carefully  as  physiological  ones,  and  therefore 
our  conclusions  respecting  them  are  even  more  precarious. 

1  To  what  has  been  already  stated,  I  will  add  the  opinions  of  two  of  the  most 
profound  among  modern  thinkers.  "  Men,  I  think,  have  been  much  the  same  for 
natural  endowments  in  all  times."  "  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,"  in  Locke's 
Works,  Vol.  II,  p.  361.  "  Les  dispositions  primitives  agissent  egalement  chez  les 
peuples  barbares  et  chez  les  peuples  polices;  ils  sont  vraisemblablement  les  memes 
dans  tous  les  lieux  et  dans  tous  les  temps.  .  .  .  Plus  il  y  aura  d'hommes,  et  plus 
vous  aurez  de  grands  hommes  ou  d'hommes  propres  a  devenir  grands."  "  Progres 
de  1'Esprit  Humain,"  in  CEuvres  de  Turgot,  Vol.  II,  p.  264.  The  remarks  of  Dr. 
Brown  (Lectures  on  the  Mind,  p.  57),  if  I  rightly  understand  his  rhetorical  lan- 
guage, apply  not  to  natural  capacity,  but  to  that  which  is  acquired :  see  the  end 
of  his  ninth  lecture. 

*  Is  it  not  probable  that  the  capacities  of  men  change  to  suit  the  change  of 
conditions,  even  though  they  do  not  become  absolutely  superior?  It  may  be  that 
the  mental  capacity  of  the  savage  is  as  great,  speaking  absolutely,  as  that  of  the 
civilized  man;  but  while  his  mental  capacity  fits  him  for  the  conditions  of  savage 
life,  it  might  not  fit  him  for  the  conditions  of  civilized  life.  By  way  of  illustration, 
the  physical  structure  of  the  seal  may  be  as  perfect  as  that  of  the  dog,  but  the 
seal  could  not  live  on  land  as  well  as  the  dog.  —  ED. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    429 

good  or  for  evil.  An  immense  majority  of  men  must  always 
remain  in  a  middle  state,  neither  very  foolish  nor  very  able, 
neither  very  virtuous  nor  very  vicious,  but  slumbering  on  in  a 
peaceful  and  decent  mediocrity,  adopting  without  much  difficulty 
the  current  opinions  of  the  day,  making  no  inquiry,  exciting  no 
scandal,  causing  no  wonder,  just  holding  themselves  on  a  level 
with  their  generation,  and  noiselessly  conforming  to  the  standard 
of  morals  and  of  knowledge  common  to  the  age  and  country  in 
which  they  live. 

Now  it  requires  but  a  superficial  acquaintance  with  history  to 
be  aware  that  this  standard  is  constantly  changing,  and  that  it  is 
never  precisely  the  same  even  in  the  most  similar  countries,  or  in 
two  successive  generations  in  the  same  country.  The  opinions 
which  are  popular  in  any  nation  vary  in  many  respects  almost 
from  year  to  year  ;  and  what  in  one  period  is  attacked  as  a  para- 
dox or  a  heresy  is  in  another  period  welcomed  as  a  sober  truth, 
which,  however,  in  its  turn  is  replaced  by  some  subsequent  novelty. 
This  extreme  mutability  in  the  ordinary  standard  of  human  actions 
shows  that  the  conditions  on  which  the  standard  depends  must 
themselves  be  very  mutable  ;  and  those  conditions,  whatever  they 
may  be,  are  evidently  the  originators  of  the  moral  and  intellectual 
conduct  of  the  great  average  of  mankind. 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  basis  on  which  we  can  safely  proceed. 
We  know  that  the  main  cause  of  human  actions  is  extremely 
variable  ;  we  have  only,  therefore,  to  apply  this  test  to  any  set  of 
circumstances  which  are  supposed  to  be  the  cause,  and  if  we  find 
that  such  circumstances  are  not  very  variable,  we  must  infer  that 
they  are  not  the  cause  we  are  attempting  to  discover. 

Applying  this  test  to  moral  motives,  or  to  the  dictates  of  what 
is  called  moral  instinct,  we  shall  at  once  see  how  extremely  small 
is  the  influence  those  motives  have  exercised  over  the  progress  of 
civilization.  For  there  is,  unquestionably,  nothing  to  be  found  in 
the  world  which  has  undergone  so  little  change  as  those  great 
dogmas-  of  which  moral  systems  are  composed.  To  do  good  to 
others  ;  to  sacrifice  for  their  benefit  your  own  wishes  ;  to  love 
your  neighbor  as  yourself ;  to  forgive  your  enemies  ;  to  restrain 
your  passions  ;  to  honor  your  parents  ;  to  respect  those  who  are 


430  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

set  over  you,  —  these  and  a  few  others  are  the  sole  essentials 
of  morals  ;  but  they  have  been  known  for  thousands  of  years, 
and  not  one  jot  or  tittle  has  been  added  to  them  by  all  the  sermons, 
homilies,  and  text-books  which  moralists  and  theologians  have 
been  able  to  produce.1 

But  if  we  contrast  this  stationary  aspect  of  moral  truths  with 
the  progressive  aspect  of  intellectual  truths,  the  difference  is 
indeed  startling.2  All  the  great  moral  systems  which  have  exer- 
cised much  influence  have  been  fundamentally  the  same ;  all  the 

1  That  the  system  of  morals  propounded  in  the  New  Testament  contained  no 
maxim  which  had  not  been  previously  enunciated,  and  that  some  of  the  most 
beautiful  passages  in  the  Apostolic  writings  are  quotations  from  pagan  authors, 
is  well  known  to  every  scholar;  and  so  far  from  supplying,  as  some  suppose,  an 
objection  against  Christianity,  it  is  a  strong  recommendation  of  it,  as  indicating 
the  intimate  relation  between  the  doctrines  of  Christ  and  the  moral  sympathies  of 
mankind  in  different  ages.    But  to  assert  that  Christianity  communicated  to  man 
moral  truths  previously  unknown  argues,  on  the  part  of  the  assertor,  either  gross 
ignorance  or  else  willful  fraud.    For  evidence  of  the  knowledge  of  moral  truths 
possessed  by  barbarous  nations,  independently  of  Christianity,  and  for  the  most 
part  previous  to   its  promulgation,  compare   Mackay's  Religious   Development, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  376-380 ;  Mure's  History  of  Greek  Literature,  Vol.  II,  p.  398 ;  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  380;  Prescott's  History  of  Mexico,  Vol.  I,  p.  31;    Elphinstone's    History  of 
India,  p.  47;  Works  of  Sir  W.  Jones,  Vol.  I,  pp.  87    168;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  105,  114; 
Mill's  History  of  India,  Vol.  I,  p.  419 ;  Bohlen,  Das  alte  Indien,  Vol.  I,  pp.  364-366; 
Beausobre,  Histoire  de  Manichee,  Vol.  I,  pp.  318,319;  Coleman's  Mythology  of 
the  Hindus,  p.  193;    Transactions  of  Society  of  Bombay,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  198;    Trans- 
actions of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  I,  p.  5  ;  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  283,  284  ;  Asiatic  Researches, 
Vol.  VI,  p.  271  ;  Vol.  VII,  p.  40;  Vol.  XVI,  pp.   130,  277;  Vol.  XX,  pp.  460, 
461  ;    The    Dabistan,  Vol.  I,   pp.  328,  338;    Catlin's    North  American    Indians, 
Vol.  II,  p.  243;  Syme's  Embassy  to  Ava,  Vol.  II,  p.  389;  Davis'  Chinese,  Vol.  I, 
p.  196;  Vol.  II,  pp.  136,  233;  Journal  Asiatique,  I.  serie,  Vol.  IV,  p.  77,  Paris, 
1824. 

2  Sir  James  Mackintosh  was  so  struck  by  the  stationary  character  of  moral 
principles  that  he  denies  the  possibility  of  their  advance,  and  boldly  affirms  that 
no  further  discoveries  can  be  made  in  morals  :  "  Morality  admits  no  discoveries. 
. .  .    More  than  three  thousand  years  have  elapsed  since  the  composition  of  the 
Pentateuch ;  and  let  any  man,  if  he  is  able,  tell  me  in  what  important  respect  the 
rule  of  life  has  varied  since  that  distant  period.    Let  the  Institutes  of  Manu  be 
explored  with  the  same  view ;  we  shall  arrive  at  the  same  conclusion.    Let  the 
books  of  false  religion  be  opened;  it  will  be  found  that  their  moral  system  is,  in 
all  its  grand  features,  the  same.  .  .  .    The  fact  is  evident  that  no  improvements 
have  been  made  in  practical  morality.  .  .  .    The  facts  which  lead  to  the  formation 
of  moral  rules  are  as  accessible,  and  must  be  as  obvious,  to  the  simplest  barbarian 
as  to  the  most  enlightened  philosopher.  .  .  .    The  case  of  the  physical  and  specu- 
lative sciences  is  directly  opposite.    There  the  facts  are  remote  and  scarcely 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    43 1 

great  intellectual  systems  have  been  fundamentally  different.  In 
reference  to  our  moral  conduct,  there  is  not  a  single  principle 
now  known  to  the  most  cultivated  Europeans  which  was  not  like- 
wise known  to  the  ancients.  In  reference  to  the  conduct  of  our 
intellect,  the  moderns  have  not  only  made  the  most  important 
additions  to  every  department  of  knowledge  that  the  ancients 
ever  attempted  to  study,  but  besides  this,  they  have  upset  and 
revolutionized  the  old  methods  of  inquiry  ;  they  have  consolidated 
into  one  great  scheme  all  those  resources  of  induction  which 
Aristotle  alone  dimly  perceived ;  and  they  have  created  sciences, 
the  faintest  idea  of  which  never  entered  the  mind  of  the  boldest 
thinker  antiquity  produced. 

These  are,  to  every  educated  man,  recognized  and  notorious 
facts ;  and  the  inference  to  be  drawn  from  them  is  immediately 
obvious.  Since  civilization  is  the  product  of  moral  and  intellec- 
tual agencies,  and  since  that  product  is  constantly  changing,  it 
evidently  cannot  be  regulated  by  the  stationary  agent,  because, 
when  surrounding  circumstances  are  unchanged  a  stationary  agent 
can  only  produce  a  stationary  effect.  The  only  other  agent  is  the 
intellectual  one  ;  and  that  this  is  the  real  mover  may  be  proved 
in  two  distinct  ways :  first,  because  being,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  either  moral  or  intellectual,  and  being,  as  we  have  also  seen, 
not  moral,  it  must  be  intellectual ;  and  secondly,  because  the  in- 
tellectual principle  has  an  activity  and  a  capacity  for  adaptation, 
which,  as  I  undertake  to  show,  is  quite  sufficient  to  account  for 
the  extraordinary  progress  that,  during  several  centuries,  Europe 
has  continued  to  make. 

Such  are  the  main  arguments  by  which  my  view  is  supported ; 
but  there  are  also  other  and  collateral  circumstances  which  are 
well  worthy  of  consideration.  The  first  is,  that  the  intellectual 

accessible.  .  .  .  From  the  countless  variety  of  the  facts  with  which  they  are  convers- 
ant, it  is  impossible  to  prescribe  any  bounds  to  their  future  improvement.  It  is 
otherwise  with  morals.  They  have  hitherto  been  stationary;  and,  in  my  opinion, 
they  are  likely  forever  to  continue  so  "  (Life  of  Mackintosh,  edited  by  his  son, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  119—122,  London,  1835).  Condorcet  (Vie  de  Turgot,  p.  180)  says,  "  La 
morale  de  toutes  les  nations  a  etc  la  meme  ";  and  Kant  (Logik,  in  Kant's  Werke, 
Vol.  I,  p.  356),  "  In  der  Moral-philosophie  sind  wir  nicht  weiter  gekommen,  als 
die  Alten." 


432  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

principle  is  not  only  far  more  progressive  than  the  moral  prin- 
ciple but  is  also  far  more  permanent  in  its  results.  The  acquisi- 
tions made  by  the  intellect  are,  in  every  civilized  country,  care- 
fully preserved,  registered  in  certain  well-understood  formulas, 
and  protected  by  the  use  of  technical  and  scientific  language ; 
they  are  easily  handed  down  from  one  generation  to  another,  and 
thus  assuming  an  accessible  or,  as  it  were,  a  tangible  form,  they 
often  influence  the  most  distant  posterity,  they  become  the  heir- 
looms of  mankind,  the  immortal  bequest  of  the  genius  to  which 
they  owe  their  birth.  But  the  good  deeds  effected  by  our  moral 
faculties  are  less  capable  of  transmission ;  they  are  of  a  more 
private  and  retiring  character;  while  as  the  motives  to  which 
they  owe  their  origin  are  generally  the  result  of  self-discipline 
and  of  self-sacrifice,  they  have  to  be  worked  out  by  every  man 
for  himself ;  and  thus,  begun  by  each  anew,  they  derive  little 
benefit  from  the  maxims  of  preceding  experience,  nor  can  they 
well  be  stored  up  for  the  use  of  future  moralists.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  although  moral  excellence  is  more  amiable,  and  to 
most  persons  more  attractive,  than  intellectual  excellence,  still  it 
must  be  confessed  that,  looking  at  ulterior  results,  it  is  far  less 
active,  less  permanent,  and,  as  I  shall  presently  prove,  less  pro- 
ductive of  real  good.  Indeed,  if  we  examine  the  effects  of  the 
most  active  philanthropy,  and  of  the  largest  and  most  disinter- 
ested kindness,  we  shall  find  that  those  effects  are,  comparatively 
speaking,  short-lived  ;  that  there  is  only  a  small  number  of  indi- 
viduals they  come  in  contact  with  and  benefit ;  that  they  rarely 
survive  the  generation  which  witnessed  their  commencement; 
and  that  when  they  take  the  more  durable  form  of  founding  great 
public  charities,  such  institutions  invariably  fall,  first  into  abuse, 
then  into  decay,  and  after  a  time  are  either  destroyed,  or  per- 
verted from  their  original  intention,  mocking  the  effort  by  which 
it  is  vainly  attempted  to  perpetuate  the  memory  even  of  the 
purest  and  most  energetic  benevolence. 

These  conclusions  are  no  doubt  very  unpalatable ;  and  what 
makes  them  peculiarly  offensive  is  that  it  is  impossible  to  refute 
them.  For  the  deeper  we  penetrate  into  this  question,  the  more 
clearly  shall  we  see  the  superiority  of  intellectual  acquisitions 


433 

over  moral  feeling.1  There  is  no  instance  on  record  of  an  igno- 
rant man  who  having  good  intentions  and  supreme  power  to 
enforce  them  has  not  done  far  more  evil  than  good.  And  when- 
ever the  intentions  have  been  very  eager,  and  the  power  very 
extensive,  the  evil  has  been  enormous.  But  if  you  can  diminish 
the  sincerity  of  that  man,  if  you  can  mix  some  alloy  with  his 
motives,  you  will  likewise  diminish  the  evil  which  he  works.  If 
he  is  selfish  as  well  as  ignorant,  it  will  often  happen  that  you 
may  play  off  his  vice  against  his  ignorance,  and  by  exciting  his 
fears  restrain  his  mischief.  If,  however,  he  has  no  fear,  if  he  is 
entirely  unselfish,  if  his  sole  object  is  the  good  of  others,  if  he  pur- 
sues that  object  with  enthusiasm  upon  a  large  scale  and  with  dis- 
interested zeal,  then  it  is  that  you  have  no  check  upon  him,  you 
have  no  means  of  preventing  the  calamities  which,  in  an  ignorant 
age,  an  ignorant  man  will  be  sure  to  inflict.  How  entirely  this  is 
verified  by  experience  we  may  see  in  studying  the  history  of  reli- 
gious persecution.  To  punish  even  a  single  man  for  his  religious 
tenets  is  assuredly  a  crime  of  the  deepest  dye ;  but  to  punish  a 
large  body  of  men,  to  persecute  an  entire  sect,  to  attempt  to  extir- 
pate opinions  which,  growing  out  of  the  state  of  society  in  which 
they  arise,  are  themselves  a  manifestation  of  the  marvelous  and 
luxuriant  fertility  of  the  human  mind,  —  to  do  this  is  not  only  one 
of  the  most  pernicious  but  one  of  the  most  foolish  acts  that  can 
possibly  be  conceived.  Nevertheless,  it  is  an  undoubted  fact  that 
an  overwhelming  majority  of  religious  persecutors  have  been  men 
of  the  purest  intentions,  of  the  most  admirable  and  unsullied 
morals.  It  is  impossible  that  this  should  be  otherwise  ;  for  they 
are  not  bad-intentioned  men  who  seek  to  enforce  opinions  which 
they  believe  to  be  good.  Still  less  are  they  bad  men  who  are  so 
regardless  of  temporal  considerations  as  to  employ  all  the  resources 
of  their  power  not  for  their  own  benefit  but  for  the  purpose  of 
propagating  a  religion  which  they  think  necessary  to  the  future 
happiness  of  mankind.  Such  men  as  these  are  not  bad,  they  are 
only  ignorant,  —  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  truth,  ignorant  of  the 

1  One  part  of  the  argument  is  well  stated  by  Cuvier,  who  says,  "  Le  bien  que 
1'on  fait  aux  hommes,  quelque  grand  qu'il  soit,  est  toujours  passager;  les  verites 
qu'on  leur  laisse  sont  eternelles  "  (Cuvier,  filoges  Historiques,  Vol.  II,  p.  304). 


434  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

consequences  of  their  own  acts.  But  in  a  moral  point  of  view 
their  motives  are  unimpeachable.  Indeed,  it  is  the  very  ardor  of 
their  sincerity  which  warms  them  into  persecution.  It  is  the  holy 
zeal  by  which  they  are  fired  that  quickens  their  fanaticism  into 
a  deadly  activity.  If  you  can  impress  any  man  with  an  absorbing 
conviction  of  the  supreme  importance  of  some  moral  or  religious 
doctrine  ;  if  you  can  make  him  believe  that  those  who  reject 
that  doctrine  are  doomed  to  eternal  perdition ;  if  you  then  give 
that  man  power,  and  by  means  of  his  ignorance  blind  him  to 
the  ulterior  consequences  of  his  own  act,  —  he  will  infallibly 
persecute  those  who  deny  his  doctrine;  and  the  extent  of  his 
persecution  will  be  regulated  by  the  extent  of  his  sincerity. 
Diminish  the  sincerity,  and  you  will  diminish  the  persecution; 
in  other  words,  by  weakening  the  virtue  you  may  check  the  evil. 
This  is  a  truth  of  which  history  furnishes  such  innumerable 
examples  that  to  deny  it  would  be  not  only  to  reject  the  plainest 
and  most  conclusive  arguments  but  to  refuse  the  concurrent  testi- 
mony of  every  age.  I  will  merely  select  two  cases,  which  from 
the  entire  difference  in  their  circumstances  are  very  apposite  as 
illustrations  :  the  first  being  from  the  history  of  paganism,  the 
other  from  the  history  of  Christianity,  and  both  proving  the 
inability  of  moral  feelings  to  control  religious  persecution. 

I.  The  Roman  emperors,  as  is  well  known,  subjected  the 
early  Christians  to  persecutions,  which,  though  they  have  been 
exaggerated,  were  frequent  and  very  grievous.  But  what  to 
some  persons  must  appear  extremely  strange  is  that  among  the 
active  authors  of  these  cruelties  we  find  the  names  of  the  best 
men  who  ever  sat  on  the  throne ;  while  the  worst  and  most 
infamous  princes  were  precisely  those  who  spared  the  Christians 
and  took  no  heed  of  their  increase.  The  two  most  thoroughly 
depraved  of  all  the  emperors  were  certainly  Commodus  and 
Elagabalus  ;  neither  of  whom  persecuted  the  new  religion,  or 
indeed  adopted  any  measures  against  it.  They  were  too  reckless 
of  the  future,  too  selfish,  too  absorbed  in  their  own  infamous 
pleasures,  to  mind  whether  truth  or  error  prevailed  ;  and  being 
thus  indifferent  to  the  welfare  of  their  subjects,  they  cared 
nothing  about  the  progress  of  a  creed,  which  they,  as  pagan 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    435 

emperors,  were  bound  to  regard  as  a  fatal  and  impious  delusion. 
They  therefore  allowed  Christianity  to  run  its  course,  unchecked 
by  those  penal  laws  which  more  honest  but  more  mistaken 
rulers  would  assuredly  have  enacted.1  We  find,  accordingly,  that 
the  great  enemy  of  Christianity  was  Marcus  Aurelius,  a  man  of 
kindly  temper  and  of  fearless,  unflinching  honesty,  but  whose 
reign  was  characterized  by  a  persecution  from  which  he  would 
have  refrained  had  he  been  less  in  earnest  about  the  religion  of 
his  fathers.2  And  to  complete  the  argument,  it  may  be  added 
that  the  last  and  one  of  the  most  strenuous  of  the  opponents  of 
Christianity  who  occupied  the  throne  of  the  Caesars  was  Julian,  — 
a  prince  of  eminent  probity,  whose  opinions  are  often  attacked, 
but  against  whose  moral  conduct  even  calumny  itself  has  hardly 
breathed  a  suspicion.3 

1  "  The  first  year  of  Commodus  must  be  the  epocha  of  the  toleration.    From 
all  these  authorities  it  appears  beyond  exception  that  Commodus  put  a  stop  to 
the  persecution  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign.  .  .  .    Not  one  writer,  either  heathen 
or  Christian,  makes  Commodus  a  persecutor"  ("  Letters  concerning  the  Thunder- 
ing  Legion,"  in  Moyle's  Works,  Vol.  II,  p.  266,  London,  1726).    "  Heliogabalus 
also,  though  in  other  respects  the  most  infamous  of  all  princes,  and  perhaps  the 
most  odious  of  all  mortals,  showed  no  marks  of  bitterness  or  aversion  to  the 
disciples  of  Jesus  "   (Mosheim's  Ecclesiastical  History,  Vol.  I,  p.  66).     See  also 
Milman's  History  of  Christianity,  Vol.  II,  p.  225,  London,  1840. 

2  Dr.  Milman  (History  of  Christianity,  1840,  Vol.  II,  p.  159)  says:  "A  blame- 
less disciple  in  the  severest  school  of  philosophic  morality,  the  austerity  of  Marcus 
rivaled  that  of  the  Christians  in  its  contempt  of  the  follies  and  diversions  of  life ; 
yet  his  native  kindliness  of  disposition  was  not  hardened  or  embittered  by  the 
severity  or  the  pride  of  his  philosophy.    With  Aurelius,  nevertheless,  Christianity 
found  not  only  a  fair  and  high-minded  competitor  for  the  command  of  the  human 
mind ;  not  only  a  rival  in  the  exaltation  of  the  soul  of  man  to  higher  views  and 
more  dignified  motives ;  but  a  violent  and  intolerant  persecutor."    M.  Guizot 
compares  him  with  Louis  IX  of  France;  and  certainly  there  was  in  both  an  evi- 
dent connection  between  sincerity  and  persecution  :  "  Marc  Aurele  et  saint  Louis 
sont  peut-etre  les  deux  seuls  princes  qui,  en  toute  occasion,  aient  fait  de  leurs 
croyances  morales   la  premiere  regie  de  leur  conduite :  Marc  Aurele,  stoicien ; 
saint  Louis,  chretien"  (Guizot,  Civilisation  en  France,  Vol.  IV,  p.  142).    Even 
Duplessis-Mornay  (Mem.,  Vol.  IV,  p.  374)  calls  him  "  le  meilleur  des  empereurs 
pai'ens";  and  Ritter  (History  of  Philosophy,  Vol.  IV,  p.  222),  "the  virtuous  and 
noble  emperor." 

3  Neander  (History  of  the  Church,   Vol.  I,  p.    122)  observes,  that  the  best 
emperors  opposed  Christianity,  and  that  the  worst  ones  were  indifferent  to  its 
encroachments.    The  same  remark,  in  regard  to  Marcus  and  Commodus,  is  made 
by  Gibbon  (Decline  and  Fall,  chap,  xvi,  p.  220,  London,  1836).    Another  writer, 


436  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL   PROGRESS 

2.  The  second  illustration  is  supplied  by  Spain, — a  country  of 
which  it  must  be  confessed  that  in  no  other  have  religious  feelings 
exercised  such  sway  over  the  affairs  of  men.  No  other  European 
nation  has  produced  so  many  ardent  and  disinterested  mission- 
aries, zealous,  self-denying  martyrs,  who  have  cheerfully  sacri- 
ficed their  lives  in  order  to  propagate  truths  which  they  thought 
necessary  to  be  known.  Nowhere  else  have  the  spiritual  classes 
been  so  long  hi  the  ascendant ;  nowhere  else  are  the  people  so 
devout,  the  churches  so  crowded,  the  clergy  so  numerous.  But 
the  sincerity  and  the  honesty  of  purpose  by  which  the  Spanish 
people,  taken  as  a  whole,  have  always  been  marked,  have  not  only 
been  unable  to  prevent  religious  persecution  but  have  proved  the 
means  of  encouraging  it.  If  the  nation  had  been  more  lukewarm, 
it  would  have  been  more  tolerant.  As  it  was,  the  preservation 
of  the  faith  became  the  first  consideration ;  and  everything  being 
sacrificed  to  this  one  object,  it  naturally  happened  that  zeal 
begat  cruelty,  and  the  soil  was  prepared  in  which  the  Inquisition 
took  root  and  flourished.  The  supporters  of  that  barbarous  insti- 
tution were  not  hypocrites  but  enthusiasts.  Hypocrites  are  for 
the  most  part  too  supple  to  be  cruel.  For  cruelty  is  a  stern 
and  unbending  passion ;  while  hypocrisy  is  a  fawning  and  flexible 
art,  which  accommodates  itself  to  human  feelings,  and  flatters 
the  weakness  of  men  in  order  that  it  may  gain  its  own  ends. 
In  Spain  the  earnestness  of  the  nation  being  concentrated  on  a 
single  topic  carried  everything  before  it ;  and  hatred  of  heresy 
becoming  a  habit,  persecution  of  heresy  was  thought  a  duty. 
The  conscientious  energy  with  which  that  duty  was  fulfilled  is 
seen  in  the  history  of  the  Spanish  Church.  Indeed,  that  the 
inquisitors  were  remarkable  for  an  undeviating  and  incorruptible 
integrity  may  be  proved  in  a  variety  of  ways  and  from  different 
and  independent  sources  of  evidence.  This  is  a  question  to  which 
I  shall  hereafter  return ;  but  there  are  two  testimonies  which  I 
cannot  omit  because,  from  the  circumstances  attending  them, 

of  a  very  different  character,  ascribes  this  peculiarity  to  the  wiles  of  the  devil : 
"  In  the  primitive  times  it  is  observed  that  the  best  emperors  were  some  of  them 
stirred  up  by  Satan  to  be  the  bitterest  persecutors  of  the  Church  "  (Memoirs  of 
Colonel  Hutchinson,  p.  85). 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    437 

they  are  peculiarly  unimpeachable.  Llorente,  the  great  historian 
of  the  Inquisition,  and  its  bitter  enemy,  had  access  to  its  private 
papers  ;  and  yet,  with  the  fullest  means  of  information,  he  does 
not  even  insinuate  a  charge  against  the  moral  character  of  the 
inquisitors ;  but  while  execrating  the  cruelty  of  their  conduct,  he 
cannot  deny  the  purity  of  their  intentions.1  Thirty  years  earlier, 
Townsend,  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  published  his 
valuable  work  on  Spain ; 2  and  though  as  a  Protestant  and  an 
Englishman  he  had  every  reason  to  be  prejudiced  against  the 
infamous  system  which  he  describes,  he  also  can  bring  no  charge 
against  those  who  upheld  it ;  but  having  occasion  to  mention  its 
establishment  at  Barcelona,  one  of  its  most  important  branches, 
he  makes  the  remarkable  admission,  that  all  its  members  are 
men  of  worth,  and  that  most  of  them  are  of  distinguished 
humanity.3 

These  facts,  startling  as  they  are,  form  a  very  small  part  of 
that  vast  mass  of  evidence  which  history  contains,  and  which 
decisively  proves  the  utter  inability  of  moral  feelings  to  diminish 
religious  persecution.  The  way  in  which  the  diminution  has  been 
really  effected  by  the  mere  progress  of  intellectual  acquirements 
will  be  pointed  out  in  another  part  of  this  volume,  when  we 
shall  see  that  the  great  antagonist  of  intolerance  is  not  humanity 
but  knowledge.  It  is  to  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  and  to  that 
alone,  that  we  owe  the  comparative  cessation  of  what  is  unques- 
tionably the  greatest  evil  men  have  ever  inflicted  on  their  own 
species.  For  that  religious  persecution  is  a  greater  evil  than  any 

1  By  which,  indeed,  he  is  sorely  puzzled.    "  On  reconnaitra  mon  impartialite 
dans  quelques  circonstances  ou  je  fais  remarquer  chez  les  inquisiteurs  des  dis- 
positions genereuses ;  ce  qui  me  porte  a  croire  que  les  atroces  sentences  rendues 
par  le  Saint-Office    sont  plutot  une  consequence  de  ses  lois  organiques,  qu'un 
effet  du  caractere  particulier  de  ses  membres  "  (Llorente,  Histoire  Critique  de 
PInquisition  d'Espagne,  Vol.  I,  p.  xxiii).    Compare  ibid.,  Vol.  II,  pp.  267,  268; 
Vol.  IV,  p.  153. 

2  Highly  spoken  of  by  the  late  Blanco  White,  a  most  competent  judge.    See 
Doblado's  Letters  from  Spain,  p.  5. 

3  "  It  is,  however,  universally  acknowledged,  for  the  credit  of  the  corps  at  Bar- 
celona, that  all  its  members  are  men  of  worth,  and  most  of  them  distinguished 
for  humanity"  (Townsend's  Journey  through  Spain  in  1786  and   1787,  Vol.  I, 
p.  122,  London,  1792). 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

other  is  apparent  not  so  much  from  the  enormous  and  almost 
incredible  number  of  its  known  victims  l  as  from  the  fact  that 
the  unknown  must  be  far  more  numerous,  and  that  history  gives 
no  account  of  those  who  have  been  spared  in  the  body  in  order 
that  they  might  suffer  in  the  mind.  We  hear  much  of  martyrs 
and  confessors,  —  of  those  who  were  slain  by  the  sword,  or  con- 
sumed in  the  fire ;  but  we  know  little  of  that  still  larger  number 
who  by  the  mere  threat  of  persecution  have  been  driven  into  an 
outward  abandonment  of  their  real  opinions,  and  who,  thus  forced 
into  an  apostasy  the  heart  abhors,  have  passed  the  remainder  of 
their  life  in  the  practice  of  a  constant  and  humiliating  hypocrisy. 
It  is  this  which  is  the  real  curse  of  religious  persecution.  For  in 
this  way,  men  being  constrained  to  mask  their  thoughts,  there 
arises  a  habit  of  securing  safety  by  falsehood,  and  of  purchasing 
impunity  with  deceit.  In  this  way  fraud  becomes  a  necessary  of 
life  ;  insincerity  is  made  a  daily  custom  ;  the  whole  tone  of  public 
feeling  is  vitiated,  and  the  gross  amount  of  vice  and  of  error  fear- 
fully increased.  Surely,  then,  we  have  reason  to  say  that,  com- 
pared to  this,  all  other  crimes  are  of  small  account ;  and  we  may 
well  be  grateful  for  that  increase  of  intellectual  pursuits  which 
has  destroyed  an  evil  that  some  among  us  would  even  now 
willingly  restore. 

The  principle  I  am  advocating  is  of  such  immense  importance 
in  practice  as  well  as  in  theory  that  I  will  give  yet  another  in- 
stance of  the  energy  with  which  it  works.  The  second  greatest 
evil  known  to  mankind  —  the  one  by  which,  with  the  exception 

1  In  1546  the  Venetian  ambassador  at  the  court  of  the  emperor  Charles  V 
stated,  in  an  official  report  to  his  own  government  on  his  return  home,  "  that  in 
Holland  and  in  Friesland  more  than  30,000  persons  have  suffered  death  at  the 
hands  of  justice  for  Anabaptist  errors  "  (Correspondence  of  Charles  V  and  his 
Ambassadors,  edited  by  William  Bradford,  8vo,  p.  471,  London,  1850).  In  Spain 
the  Inquisition,  during  the  eighteen  years  of  Torquemada's  ministry,  punished, 
according  to  the  lowest  estimate,  upwards  of  105,000  persons,  of  whom  8800  were 
burned  (Prescott's  History  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  Vol.  I,  p.  265).  In  Andalusia 
alone,  during  a  single  year,  the  Inquisition  put  to  death  2000  Jews,  "besides  17,000 
who  underwent  some  form  of  punishment  less  severe  than  that  of  the  stake  " 
(Ticknor's  History  of  Spanish  Literature,  Vol.  I,  p.  410).  For  other  statistical  evi- 
dence on  this  horrible  subject,  see  Llorente,  Histoire  de  1'Inquisition,  Vol.  I,  pp.  160, 
229,  238,  239,  279,  280,  406,  407,  455  ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  77,  1 16,  376 ;  Vol.  IV,  p.  31 ;  and, 
above  all,  the  summary  at  pp.  242-273. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    439 

of  religious  persecution,  most  suffering  has  been  caused  —  is  un- 
questionably the  practice  of  war.  That  this  barbarous  pursuit 
is,  in  the  progress  of  society,  steadily  declining  must  be  evident, 
even  to  the  most  hasty  reader  of  European  history.1  If  we 
compare  one  century  with  another,  we  shall  find  that  for  a 
very  long  period  wars  have  been  becoming  less  frequent,  and  now 
so  clearly  is  the  movement  marked  that  until  the  late  com- 
mencement of  hostilities  we  had  remained  at  peace  for  nearly 
forty  years,  —  a  circumstance  unparalleled  not  only  in  our  own 
country  but  also  in  the  annals  of  every  other  country  which  has 
been  important  enough  to  play  a  leading  part  in  the  affairs  of 
the  world.2  The  question  arises  as  to  what  share  our  moral  feel- 
ings have  had  in  bringing  about  this  great  improvement.  And 
if  this  question  is  answered  not  according  to  preconceived  opin- 
ions but  according  to  the  evidence  we  possess,  the  answer  will 
certainly  be,  that  those  feelings  have  had  no  share  at  all.  For  it 
surely  will  not  be  pretended  that  the  moderns  have  made  any 
discoveries  respecting  the  moral  evils  of  war.  On  this  head 
nothing  is  now  known  that  has  not  been  known  for  many  cen- 
turies. That  defensive  wars  are  just,  and  that  offensive  wars  are 
unjust,  are  the  only  two  principles  which,  on  this  subject,  moral- 
ists are  able  to  teach.  These  two  principles  were  as  clearly  laid 
down,  as  well  understood,  and  as  universally  admitted  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  when  there  was  never  a  week  without  war,  as  they 
are  at  the  present  moment,  when  war  is  deemed  a  rare  and  singu- 
lar occurrence.  Since,  then,  the  actions  of  men  respecting  war 
have  been  gradually  changing,  while  their  moral  knowledge  re- 
specting it  has  not  been  changing,  it  is  palpably  evident  that  the 
changeable  effect  has  not  been  produced  by  the  unchangeable 

1  On  the  diminished  love  of  war,  which  is  even  more  marked  than  the  actual 
diminution  of  war,  see  some  interesting  remarks  in  Comte,  Philosophic  Positive, 
Vol.  IV,  pp.  488,  713;  Vol.  VI,  pp.  68,  424-436,  where  the  antagonism  between 
the  military  spirit  and  the  industrial  spirit  is,  on  the  whole,  well  worked  out, 
though  some  of  the  leading  phenomena  have  escaped  the  attention  of  this  emi- 
nent philosopher,  from  his  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  history  and  present 
state  of  political  economy. 

2  In  Pellew's  Life  of  Sidmouth,  1847,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  137,  this  prolonged  peace  is 
gravely  ascribed  to  "  the  wisdom  of  the  adjustment  of  1815";    in  other  words,  to 
the  proceedings  of  the  Congress  of  Vienna ! 


440  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

cause.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  an  argument  more  decisive 
than  this.  If  it  can  be  proved  that  during  the  last  thousand 
years  moralists  or  theologians  have  pointed  out  a  single  evil 
caused  by  war,  the  existence  of  which  was  unknown  to  their 
predecessors,  —  if  this  can  be  proved,  I  will  abandon  the  view 
for  which  I  am  contending.  But  if,  as  I  most  confidently  assert, 
this  cannot  be  proved,  then  it  must  be  conceded  that  no  addi- 
tions having  been  made  on  this  subject  to  the  stock  of  morals, 
no  additions  can  have  been  made  to  the  result  which  the  morals 
produce.1 

Thus  far  as  to  the  influence  exercised  by  moral  feelings  in 
increasing  our  distaste  for  war.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
turn  to  the  human  intellect,  in  the  narrowest  sense  of  the  term, 
we  shall  find  that  every  great  increase  in  its  activity  has  been  a 
heavy  blow  to  the  warlike  spirit.  The  full  evidence  for  this  I 
shall  hereafter  detail  at  considerable  length ;  and  in  this  intro- 
duction I  can  only  pretend  to  bring  forward  a  few  of  those 
prominent  points  which,  being  on  the  surface  of  history,  will  be 
at  once  understood. 

Of  these  points  one  of  the  most  obvious  is,  that  every  impor- 
tant addition  made  to  knowledge  increases  the  authority  of  the 
intellectual  classes  by  increasing  the  resources  which  they  have 

1  Unless  more  zeal  has  been  displayed  in  the  diffusion  of  moral  and  religious 
principles ;  in  which  case  it  would  be  possible  for  the  principles  to  be  stationary, 
and  yet  their  effects  be  progressive.  But  so  far  from  this,  it  is  certain  that  in  the 
Middle  Ages  there  were,  relatively  to  the  population,  more  churches  than  there 
are  now ;  the  spiritual  classes  were  far  more  numerous,  the  proselyting  spirit  far 
more  eager,  and  there  was  a  much  stronger  determination  to  prevent  purely  sci- 
entific inferences  from  encroaching  on  ethical  ones.  Indeed,  during  the  Middle 
Ages  the  moral  and  religious  literature  outweighed  all  the  profane  literature  put 
together,  and  surpassed  it  not  only  in  bulk  but  also  in  the  ability  of  its  culti- 
vators. Now,  however,  the  generalizations  of  moralists  have  ceased  to  control  the 
affairs  of  men  and  have  made  way  for  the  larger  doctrine  of  expediency,  which 
includes  all  interests  and  all  classes.  Systematic  writers  on  morals  reached  their 
zenith  in  the  thirteenth  century,  fell  off  rapidly  after  that  period,  were,  as  Cole- 
ridge well  says,  opposed  by  "  the  genius  of  Protestantism " ;  and  by  the  end 
of  the  seventeenth  century  became  extinct  in  the  most  civilized  countries,  the 
Ductor  Dubitantium  of  Jeremy  Taylor  being  the  last  comprehensive  attempt  of  a 
man  of  genius  to  mold  society  solely  according  to  the  maxims  of  moralists.  Com- 
pare two  interesting  passages  in  Mosheim's  Ecclesiastical  History,  Vol.  I,  p.  338, 
and  Coleridge's  Friend,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  104. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    441 

to  wield.  Now  the  antagonism  between  these  classes  and  the 
military  class  is  evident :  it  is  the  antagonism  between  thought 
and  action,  between  the  internal  and  the  external,  between  argu- 
ment and  violence,  between  persuasion  and  force ;  or,  to  sum  up 
the  whole,  between  men  who  live  by  the  pursuits  of  peace  and 
those  who  live  by  the  practice  of  war.  Whatever,  therefore,  is 
favorable  to  one  class  is  manifestly  unfavorable  to  the  other. 
Supposing  the  remaining  circumstances  to  be  the  same,  it  must 
happen  that  as  the  intellectual  acquisitions  of  a  people  increase, 
their  love  of  war  will  diminish  ;  and  if  their  intellectual  acquisi- 
tions are  very  small,  their  love  of  war  will  be  very  great.1  In 
perfectly  barbarous  countries  there  are  no  intellectual  acquisi- 
tions ;  and  the  mind  being  a  blank  and  dreary  waste,  the  only 
resource  is  external  activity,2  the  only  merit  personal  courage. 
No  account  is  made  of  any  man  unless  he  has  killed  an  enemy  ; 
and  the  more  he  has  killed,  the  greater  the  reputation  he  enjoys.3 

1  Herder  boldly  asserts  that  man,  originally  and  by  virtue  of  his  organization, 
is  peaceably  disposed;   but  this  opinion  is  decisively  refuted  by  the  immense 
additions  which,  since  the  time  of  Herder,  have  been  made  to  our  knowledge  of 
the  feelings  and  habits  of  savages.    "  Indessen  ist's  wahr,  dass  der  Bau  des  Men- 
schen  vorziiglich  auf  die  Vertheidigung,  nicht  auf  den  Angriff  gerichtet  ist :  in 
diesem  muss  ihm  die  Kunst  zu  Hiilfe  kommen,  in  jener  aber  ist  er  von  Natur  das 
kraftigste  Geschopf  der  Erde.    Seine  Gestalt  selbst  lehret  ihn  also  Friedlichkeit, 
nicht  rauberische   Mordverwiistung,  —  der   Humanitat  erstes  Merkmal"  (Ideen 
zur  Geschichte,  Vol.  I,  p.  185). 

2  Hence,  no  doubt,  that  acuteness  of  the  senses,  natural  and  indeed  necessary 
to  an  early  state  of  society,  and  which,  being  at  the  expense  of  the  reflecting 
faculties,  assimilates  man  to  the  lower  animals.      See  Carpenter's  Human  Physi- 
ology, p.  404;  and  a  fine  passage  in  Herder,  Ideen  zur  Geschichte,  Vol.  II,  p.  12: 
"  Das  abstehende  thierische  Ohr,  das  gleichsam  immer  lauscht  und  horchet,  das 
kleine  scharfe  Auge,  das  in  der  weitesten  Feme  den  kleinsten  Rauch  oder  Staub 
gewahr  wird,  der  weisse   hervorbleckende,  knochenbenagende  Zahn,  der  dicke 
Hals  und  die  zuriickgebogene  Stellung  ihres  Kopfes  auf  demselben."    Compare 
Prichard's  Physical  History  of  Mankind,  Vol.  I,  pp.  292,  293;  Azara,  Amerique 
Meridionale,  Vol.  II,  p.  18;  WrangePs  Polar  Expedition,  p.  384;  Pallme's  Travels 
in  Kordofan,  pp.  132, 133. 

3  "  Among  some  Macedonian  tribes  the  man  who  had  never  slain  an  enemy 
was  marked  by  a  degrading  badge  "  (Grote's  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  XI,  p.  397). 
Among  the   Dyaks  of  Borneo,  "a  man  cannot  marry  until  he  has  procured  a 
human  head;  and  he  that  has  several  may  be  distinguished  by  his  proud  and 
lofty  bearing,  for   it   constitutes    his   patent  of  nobility"   (Earl's   "Account  of 
Borneo,"  in  Journal  of  Asiatic  Society,  Vol.  IV,  p.  181).    See  also  Crawfurd  on 
Borneo,  in  Journal  of  Geographical  Society ,  Vol.  XXIII,  pp.  77,  80.    And  for  similar 


442  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

This  is  the  purely  savage  state  ;  and  it  is  the  state  in  which  mili- 
tary glory  is  most  esteemed,  and  military  men  most  respected.1 
From  this  frightful  debasement,  even  up  to  the  summit  of  civili- 
zation, there  is  a  long  series  of  consecutive  steps, . —  gradations,  at 
each  of  which  something  is  taken  from  the  dominion  of  force, 
and  something  given  to  the  authority  of  thought.  Slowly,  and 
one  by  one,  the  intellectual  and  pacific  classes  begin  to  arise,  at 
first  held  in  great  contempt  by  warriors,  but  nevertheless  gradu- 
ally gaining  ground,  increasing  in  number  and  in  power,  and  at 
each  increase  weakening  that  old  military  spirit  in  which  all 
other  tendencies  had  formerly  been  absorbed.  Trade,  commerce, 
manufactures,  law,  diplomacy,  literature,  science,  philosophy,  — 
all  these  things,  originally  unknown,  become  organized  into  sepa- 
rate studies,  each  study  having  a  separate  class,  and  each  class 
insisting  on  the  importance  of  its  own  pursuit.  Of  these  classes 
some  are,  no  doubt,  less  pacific  than  others ;  but  even  those 
which  are  the  least  pacific  are  of  course  more  so  than  men  whose 
associations  are  entirely  military,  and  who  see  in  every  fresh 
war  that  chance  of  personal  distinction  from  which  during  peace 
they  are  altogether  debarred.2 

instances  of  this  absorption  of  all  other  ideas  into  warlike  ones,  compare  Journal 
of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  X,  p.  357 ;  Mallet's  Northern  Antiquities,  pp.  1 58,  1 59, 
195;  Thirhvall's  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  I,  pp.  226,  284;  Vol.  VIII,  p.  209;  Hen- 
derson's History  of  Brazil,  p.  475;  Southey's  History  of  Brazil,  Vol.  I,  pp.  126, 
248;  Asiatic  Researches,  Vol.  II,  p.  188;  Vol.  VII,  p.  193;  Transactions  of  Bom- 
bay Society,  Vol.  II,  pp.  51,  52;  Hoskins'  Travels  in  Ethiopia,  p.  163;  Origines 
du  Droit,  in  CEuvres  de  Michelet,  Vol.  II,  pp.  333,  334,  note.  See  also  the  Thra- 
cians :  7^5  dt  tpydT-qv  dTtfiArarov.  r6  £ijv  dird  iroX^tou  *cai  \rjiffTvos,  /cdXAwrov 
(Herodotus,  Book  V,  chap,  vi;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  10,  edit.  Baehr). 

1  Malcolm  (History  of  Persia,  Vol.  I,  p.  204)  says  of  the  Tartars,  "  There  is 
only  one  path  to  eminence,  that  of  military  renown."    Thus,  too,  in  the  Institutes 
of  Timur,  p.  269 :  "  He  only  is  equal  to  stations  of  power  and  dignity  who  is  well 
acquainted  with  the  military  art,  and  with  the  various  modes  of  breaking  and 
defeating  hostile  armies."    The  same  turn  of  mind  is  shown  in  the  frequency 
and  evident  delight  with  which  Homer  relates  battles,  —  a  peculiarity  noticed  in 
Mure's  Greek  Literature,  Vol.  II,  pp.  63,  64,  where  an  attempt  is  made  to  turn  it 
into  an  argument  to  prove  that  the  Homeric  poems  are  all  by  the  same  author, 
though  the  more  legitimate  inference  would  be  that  the  poems  were  all  composed 
in  a  barbarous  age. 

2  To  the  prospect  of  personal  distinction  there  was  formerly  added  that  of 
wealth;  and  in  Europe,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  war  was  a  very  lucrative  pro- 
fession,  owing   to    the    custom    of   exacting    heavy  ransom    for   the    liberty  of 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    443 

Thus  it  is  that  as  civilization  advances  an  equipoise  is  estab- 
lished, and  military  ardor  is  balanced  by  motives  which  none 
but  a  cultivated  people  can  feel.  But  among  a  people  whose 
intellect  is  not  cultivated,  such  a  balance  can  never  exist.  Of 
this  we  see  a  good  illustration  in  the  history  of  the  present  war.1 
For  the  peculiarity  of  the  great  contest  in  which  we  are  engaged 
is  that  it  was  produced  not  by  the  conflicting  interests  of  civil- 
ized countries  but  by  a  rupture  between  Russia  and  Turkey,  the 
two  most  barbarous  monarchies  now  remaining  in  Europe.  This 
is  a  very  significant  fact.  It  is  highly  characteristic  of  the  actual 
condition  of  society  that  a  peace  of  unexampled  length  should 
have  been  broken  not,  as  former  peaces  were  broken,  by  a  quar- 
rel between  two  civilized  nations,  but  by  the  encroachments 
of  the  uncivilized  Russians  on  the  still  more  uncivilized  Turks. 
At  an  earlier  period  the  influence  of  intellectual,  and  therefore 
pacific,  habits  was  indeed  constantly  increasing,  but  was  still  too 
weak,  even  in  the  most  advanced  countries,  to  control  the  old 
warlike  habits ;  hence  there  arose  a  desire  for  conquest,  which 
often  outweighed  all  other  feelings,  and  induced  great  nations 
like  France  and  England  to  attack  each  other  on  the  slightest 
pretense,  and  seek  every  opportunity  of  gratifying  the  vindictive 
hatred  with  which  each  contemplated  the  prosperity  of  its  neigh- 
bor. Such,  however,  is  now  the  progress  of  affairs  that  these 
two  nations,  laying  aside  the  peevish  and  irritable  jealousy  they 
once  entertained,  are  united  in  a  common  cause,  and  have  drawn 
the  sword  not  for  selfish  purposes  but  to  protect  the  civilized 
world  against  the  incursions  of  a  barbarous  foe. 

prisoners.  See  Barrington's  learned  work,  Observations  on  the  Statutes,  pp.  390- 
393.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II  "a  war  with  France  was  esteemed  as  almost  the 
only  method  by  which  an  English  gentleman  could  become  rich."  Compare  Turner's 
History  of  England,  Vol.  VI,  p.  21.  Sainte-Palaye  (Memoires  sur  1'Ancienne 
Chevalerie,  Vol.  I,  p.  311)  says:  "  La  guerre  enrichissoit  alors  par  le  butin,  et  par 
les  radons,  celui  qui  la  faisoit  avec  le  plus  de  valeur,  de  vigilance  et  d'activite. 
La  rancon  etoit,  ce  semble,  pour  1'ordinaire,  une  annee  des  revenus  du  prisonnier." 
For  an  analogy  with  this,  see  Rig  Veda  Sanhita,  Vol.  I,  p.  208,  sec.  3 ;  Vol.  II, 
p.  265,  sec.  13.  In  Europe  the  custom  of  paying  a  ransom  for  prisoners  of  war 
survived  the  Middle  Ages,  and  was  only  put  an  end  to  by  the  peace  of  Munster, 
in  1648.  See  Manning's  Commentaries  on  the  Law  of  Nations,  1839,  p.  162; 
and  on  the  profits  formerly  made,  ibid.,  pp.  1 57,  1 58. 
1  I  wrote  this  in  1855. 


444  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

This  is  the  leading  feature  which  distinguishes  the  present 
war  from  its  predecessors.  That  a  peace  should  last  for  nearly 
forty  years,  and  should  then  be  interrupted  not,  as  heretofore, 
by  hostilities  between  civilized  states  but  by  the  ambition  of  the 
only  empire  which  is  at  once  powerful  and  uncivilized,  —  is  one 
of  many  proofs  that  a  dislike  to  war  is  a  cultivated  taste  peculiar 
to  an  intellectual  people.  For  no  one  will  pretend  that  the  mili- 
tary predilections  of  Russia  are  caused  by  a  low  state  of  morals, 
or  by  a  disregard  of  religious  duties.  So  far  from  this,  all  the 
evidence  we  have  shows  that  vicious  habits  are  not  more  com- 
mon in  Russia  than  in  France  or  England,1  and  it  is  certain  that  the 
Russians  submit  to  the  teachings  of  the  church  with  a  docility 
greater  than  that  displayed  by  their  civilized  opponents.2  It  is, 
therefore,  clear  that  Russia  is  a  warlike  country  not  because 
the  inhabitants  are  immoral  but  because  they  are  unintellectual. 
The  fault  is  in  the  head,  not  in  the  heart.  In  Russia  the 
national  intellect  being  little  cultivated,  the  intellectual  classes 
lack  influence  ;  the  military  class,  therefore,  is  supreme.  In  this 
early  stage  of  society  there  is  as  yet  no  middle  rank,3  and  con- 
sequently the  thoughtful  and  pacific  habits  which  spring  from 
the  middle  ranks  have  no  existence.  The  minds  of  men,  deprived 
of  mental  pursuits,4  naturally  turn  to  warlike  ones  as  the  only 

1  Indeed,  some  have  supposed  that  there  is  less  immorality  in  Russia  than  in 
Western   Europe ;  but  this  idea  is  probably  erroneous.    See  Stirling's  Russia, 
pp.  59,  60,  London,  1841.     The  benevolence  and  charitable  disposition  of  the 
Russians  are  attested  by  Pinkerton,  who  had  good  means  of  information,  and  was 
by  no  means  prejudiced  in  their  favor.     See   Pinkerton's  Russia,  pp.  335,  336, 
London,  1833.    Sir  John  Sinclair  also  says  they  are  "prone  to  acts  of  kindness 
and  charity"  (Sinclair's  Correspondence,  Vol.  II,  p.  241). 

2  The  reverence  of  the  Russian  people  for  their  clergy  has  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  many  observers,  and  is,  indeed,  too  notorious  to  require  proof. 

*  A  very  observing  and  intelligent  writer  says,  "Russia  has  only  two  ranks, — 
the  highest  and  the  lowest"  (Letters  from  the  Baltic,  Vol.  II,  p.  185,  London, 
1841).  "  Les  marchands,  qui  formeraient  une  classe  moyenne,  sont  en  si  petit 
nombre  qu'ils  ne  peuvent  marquer  dans  1'etat :  d'ailleurs  presque  tous  sont 
etrangers ;  .  .  .  oil  done  trouver  cette  classe  moyenne  qui  fait  la  force  des  etats  ? " 
(Custine,  Russie,  Vol.  II,  pp.  125,  126;  see  also  Vol.  IV,  p.  74). 

4  A  recent  authoress,  who  had  admirable  opportunities  of  studying  the  society 
of  St.  Petersburg,  which  she  estimated  with  that  fine  tact  peculiar  to  an  accom- 
plished woman,  was  amazed  at  this  state  of  things  among  classes  surrounded  with 
every  form  of  luxury  and  wealth  :  "  a  total  absence  of  all  rational  tastes  or  literary 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    445 

resource  remaining  to  them.  Hence  it  is  that  in  Russia  all  ability 
is  estimated  by  a  military  standard.  The  army  is  considered  to 
be  the  greatest  glory  of  the  country;  to  win  a  battle,  or  outwit 
an  enemy,  is  valued  as  one  of  the  noblest  achievements  of  life ; 
and  civilians,  whatever  their  merits  may  be,  are  despised  by  this 
barbarous  people  as  beings  of  an  altogether  inferior  and  subor- 
dinate character.1 

In  England,  on  the  other  hand,  opposite  causes  have  produced 
opposite  results.  With  us  intellectual  progress  is  so  rapid  and 
the  authority  of  the  middle  class  so  great  that  not  only  have 
military  men  no  influence  in  the  government  of  the  state  but 
there  seemed  at  one  time  even  a  danger  lest  we  should  push  this 
feeling  to  an  extreme ;  and  lest,  from  our  detestation  of  war,  we 
should  neglect  those  defensive  precautions  which  the  enmity  of 
other  nations  makes  it  advisable  to  adopt.  But  this  at  least  we 
may  safely  say,  that  in  our  country  a  love  of  war  is,  as  a  national 

topics.  .  .  .  Here  it  is  absolutely  mauvais  genre  to  discuss  a  rational  subject, — 
mere  pedanterie  to  be  caught  upon  any  topics  beyond  dressing,  dancing,  and  a 
jolie  tournure"  (Letters  from  the  Baltic,  1841,  Vol.  II,  p.  233).  M.  Custine  (La 
Russie  en  1839,  Vol.  I,  p.  321)  says,  "  Regie  generale,  personne  ne  profere  jamais 
un  mot  qui  pourrait  interesser  vivement  quelqu'un."  In  Vol.  II,  p.  195,  "  De 
toutes  les  facultes  de  1'intelligence,  la  seule  qu'on  estime  ici  c'est  le  tact." 
Another  writer  of  repute,  M.  Kohl,  contemptuously  observes,  that  in  Russia  "  the 
depths  of  science  are  not  even  guessed  at "  (Kohl's  Russia,  p.  142,  London,  1842). 
1  According  to  Schnitzler,  "  Precedence  is  determined  in  Russia  by  military 
rank ;  and  an  ensign  would  take  the  pas  of  a  nobleman  not  enrolled  in  the  army 
or  occupying  some  situation  giving  military  rank "  (M'Culloch's  Geographical 
Dictionary,  1849,  Vol.  II,  p.  614).  The  same  thing  is  stated  in  Pinkerton's  Russia, 
1833,  p.  321.  M.  Erman,  who  traveled  through  a  great  part  of  the  Russian  Empire, 
says,  "  In  the  modern  language  of  St.  Petersburg  one  constantly  hears  a  distinc- 
tion of  the  greatest  importance  conveyed  in  the  inquiry  which  is  habitually  made 
respecting  individuals  of  the  educated  class :  Is  he  a  plain-coat  or  a  uniform  ? " 
(Erman's  Siberia,  Vol.  I,  p.  45).  See  also  on  this  preponderance  of  the  military 
classes,  which  is  the  inevitable  fruit  of  the  national  ignorance,  Kohl's  Russia, 
pp.  28,  194;  Stirling's  Russia  under  Nicholas  the  First,  p.  7;  Custine,  Russie, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  147,  152,  252,  266  ;  Vol.  II,  pp.  71,  128,  309;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  328;  Vol.  IV, 
p.  284.  Sir  A.  Alison  (History  of  Europe,  Vol.  II,  pp.  391,  392)  says:  "The 
whole  energies  of  the  nation  are  turned  towards  the  army.  Commerce,  the  law, 
and  all  civil  employments  are  held  in  no  esteem ;  the  whole  youth  of  any  con- 
sideration betake  themselves  to  the  profession  of  arms."  The  same  writer  (Vol.  X, 
p.  566)  quotes  the  remark  of  Bremner,  that  "  nothing  astonishes  the  Russian  or 
Polish  nobleman  so  much  as  seeing  the  estimation  in  which  the  civil  professions, 
and  especially  the  bar,  are  held  in  Great  Britain." 


446  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

taste,  utterly  extinct.  And  this  vast  result  has  been  effected 
not  by  moral  teachings,  nor  by  the  dictates  of  moral  instinct, 
but  by  the  simple  fact  that  in  the  progress  of  civilization  there 
have  been  formed  certain  classes  of  society  which  have  an  in- 
terest in  the  preservation  of  peace,  and  whose  united  authority  is 
sufficient  to  control  those  other  classes  whose  interest  lies  in  the 
prosecution  of  war. 

It  would  be  easy  to  conduct  this  argument  further,  and  to 
prove  how,  by  an  increasing  love  of  intellectual  pursuits,  the 
military  service  necessarily  declines  not  only  in  reputation  but 
likewise  in  ability.  In  a  backward  state  of  society  men  of  dis- 
tinguished talents  crowd  to  the  army,  and  are  proud  to  enroll 
themselves  in"  its  ranks.  But  as  society  advances,  new  sources 
of  activity  are  opened,  and  new  professions  arise,  which,  being 
essentially  mental,  offer  to  genius  opportunities  for  success  more 
rapid  than  any  formerly  known.  The  consequence  is  that  in 
England,  where  these  opportunities  are  more  numerous  than 
elsewhere,  it  nearly  always  happens  that  if  a  father  has  a  son 
whose  faculties  are  remarkable,  he  brings  him  up  to  one  of  the 
lay  professions,  where  intellect,  when  accompanied  by  industry, 
is  sure  to  be  rewarded.  If,  however,  the  inferiority  of  the  boy  is 
obvious,  a  suitable  remedy  is  at  hand  :  he  is  made  either  a  soldier 
or  a  clergyman  ;  he  is  sent  into  the  army,  or  hidden  in  the  church. 
And  this,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  is  one  of  the  reasons  why,  as 
society  advances,  the  ecclesiastical  spirit  and  the  military  spirit 
never  fail  to  decline.  As  soon  as  eminent  men  grow  unwilling 
to  enter  any  profession,  the  luster  of  that  profession  will  be  tar- 
nished :  first  its  reputation  will  be  lessened,  and  then  its  power 
will  be  abridged.  This  is  the  process  through  which  Europe  is 
actually  passing,  in  regard  both  to  the  church  and  to  the  army. 
The  evidence,  so  far  as  the  ecclesiastical  profession  is  concerned, 
will  be  found  in  another  part  of  this  work.  The  evidence  re- 
specting the  military  profession  is  equally  decisive.  For  although 
that  profession  has  in  modern  Europe  produced  a  few  men  of  un- 
doubted genius,  their  number  is  so  extremely  small,  as  to  amaze 
us  at  the  dearth  of  original  ability.  That  the  military  class,  taken 
as  a  whole,  has  a  tendency  to  degenerate  will  become  still  more 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    447 

obvious  if  we  compare  long  periods  of  time.  In  the  ancient 
world  the  leading  warriors  were  not  only  possessed  of  consid- 
erable accomplishments  but  were  comprehensive  thinkers  in 
politics  as  well  as  in  war,  and  were  in  every  respect  the  first 
characters  of  their  age.  Thus  —  to  give  only  a  few  specimens 
from  a  single  people  —  we  find  that  the  three  most  success- 
ful statesmen  Greece  ever  produced  were  Solon,  Themistocles, 
and  Epaminondas,  —  all  of  whom  were  distinguished  military 
commanders.  Socrates,  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  wisest  of 
the  ancients,  was  a  soldier ;  and  so  was  Plato ;  and  so  was 
Antisthenes,  the  celebrated  founder  of  the  Cynics.  Archytas, 
who  gave  a  new  direction  to  the  Pythagorean  philosophy,  and 
Melissus,  who  developed  the  Eleatic  philosophy,  were  both  of 
them  well-known  generals,  famous  alike  in  literature  and  in  war. 
Among  the  most  eminent  orators,  Pericles,  Alcibiades,  Andocides, 
Demosthenes,  and  ^schines  were  all  members  of  the  military 
profession,  as  also  were  the  two  greatest  tragic  writers,  ^Eschy- 
lus  and  Sophocles.  Archilochus,  who  is  said  to  have  invented 
iambic  verses,  and  whom  Horace  took  as  a  model,  was  a  soldier ; 
and  the  same  profession  could  likewise  boast  of  Tyrtaeus,  one  of 
the  founders  of  elegiac  poetry,  and  of  Alcaeus,  one  of  the  best 
composers  of  lyric  poetry.  The  most  philosophic  of  all  the  Greek 
historians  was  certainly  Thucydides;  but  he,  as  well  as  Xeno- 
phon  and  Polybius,  held  high  military  appointments,  and  on  more 
than  one  occasion  succeeded  in  changing  the  fortunes  of  war. 
In  the  midst  of  the  hurry  and  turmoil  of  camps  these  eminent 
men  cultivated  their  minds  to  the  highest  point  that  the  knowl- 
edge of  that  age  would  allow;  and  so  wide  is  the  range  of  their 
thoughts,  and  such  the  beauty  and  dignity  of  their  style,  that 
their  works  are  read  by  thousands  who  care  nothing  about  the 
sieges  and  battles  in  which  they  were  engaged. 

These  were  among  the  ornaments  of  the  military  profession  in 
the  ancient  world  ;  and  all  of  them  wrote  in  the  same  language, 
and  were  read  by  the  same  people.  But  in  the  modern  world 
this  identical  profession,  including  many  millions  of  men,  and 
covering  the  whole  of  Europe,  has  never  been  able,  since  the 
sixteenth  century,  to  produce  ten  authors  who  have  reached  the 


448  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

first  class  either  as  writers  or  as  thinkers.  Descartes  is  an  in- 
stance of  an  European  soldier  combining  the  two  qualities,  he 
being  as  remarkable  for  the  exquisite  beauty  of  his  style  as  for 
the  depth  and  originality  of  his  inquiries.  This,  however,  is  a 
solitary  case  ;  and  there  is,  I  believe,  no  second  one  of  a  modern 
military  writer  thus  excelling  in  both  departments.  Certainly 
the  English  army,  during  the  last  two  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
affords  no  example  of  it,  and  has,  in  fact,  possessed  only  two 
authors,  Raleigh  and  Napier,  whose  works  are  recognized  as 
models,  and  are  studied  merely  for  their  intrinsic  merit.  Still, 
this  is  simply  in  reference  to  style ;  and  these  two  historians, 
notwithstanding  their  skill  in  composition,  have  never  been 
reputed  profound  thinkers  on  difficult  subjects,  nor  have  they 
added  anything  of  moment  to  the  stock  of  our  knowledge.  In 
the  same  way,  among  the  ancients,  the  most  eminent  soldiers 
were  likewise  the  most  eminent  politicians,  and  the  best  leaders 
of  the  army  were  generally  the  best  governors  of  the  state.  But 
here  again  the  progress  of  society  has  wrought  so  great  a  change 
that  for  a  long  period  instances  of  this  have  been  excessively 
rare.  Even  Gustavus  Adolphus  and  Frederick  the  Great  failed 
ignominiously  in  their  domestic  policy,  and  showed  themselves  as 
short-sighted  in  the  arts  of  peace  as  they  were  sagacious  in  the 
arts  of  war.  Cromwell,  Washington,  and  Napoleon  are,  perhaps, 
the  only  first-rate  modern  warriors  of  whom  it  can  be  fairly  said 
that  they  were  equally  competent  to  govern  a  kingdom  and  com- 
mand an  army.  And  if  we  look  at  England  as  furnishing  a 
familiar  illustration,  we  see  this  remark  exemplified  in  our  two 
greatest  generals,  —  Marlborough  and  Wellington.  Marlborough 
was  a  man  not  only  of  the  most  idle  and  frivolous  pursuits  but 
was  so  miserably  ignorant  that  his  deficiencies  made  him  the 
ridicule  of  his  contemporaries ;  and  of  politics  he  had  no  other 
idea  but  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  sovereign  by  flattering  his 
mistress,  to  desert  the  brother  of  that  sovereign  at  his  utmost 
need,  and  afterwards,  by  a  double  treachery,  turn  against  his 
next  benefactor,  and  engage  in  a  criminal  as  well  as  a  foolish 
correspondence  with  the  very  man  whom  a  few  years  before  he 
had  infamously  abandoned.  These  were  the  characteristics  of 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    449 

the  greatest  conqueror  of  his  age,  the  hero  of  a  hundred  rights, 
the  victor  of  Blenheim  and  of  Ramillies.  As  to  our  other  great 
warrior,  it  is  indeed  true  that  the  name  of  Wellington  should 
never  be  pronounced  by  an  Englishman  without  gratitude  and 
respect :  these  feelings  are,  however,  due  solely  to  his  vast  mili- 
tary services,  the  importance  of  which  it  would  ill  become  us  to 
forget.  But  whoever  has  studied  the  civil  history  of  England 
during  the  present  century  knows  full  well  that  this  military 
chief,  who  in  the  field  shone  without  a  rival,  and  who,  to  his  still 
greater  glory  be  it  said,  possessed  an  integrity  of  purpose,  an 
unflinching  honesty,  and  a  high  moral  feeling,  which  could  not 
be  surpassed,  was  nevertheless  utterly  unequal  to  the  complicated 
exigencies  of  political  life.  It  is  notorious  that  in  his  views  of 
the  most  important  legislative  measures  he  was  always  in  the 
wrong.  It  is  notorious,  and  the  evidence  of  it  stands  recorded  in 
our  Parliamentary  Debates,  that  every  great  measure  which  was 
carried,  every  great  improvement,  every  great  step  in  reform, 
every  concession  to  the  popular  wishes,  was  strenuously  opposed 
by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  became  law  in  spite  of  his  opposition 
and  after  his  mournful  declarations  that  by  such  means  the 
security  of  England  would  be  seriously  imperiled.  Yet  there  is 
now  hardly  a  forward  schoolboy  who  does  not  know  that  to  these 
very  measures  the  present  stability  of  our  country  is  mainly 
owing.  Experience,  the  great  test  of  wisdom,  has  amply  proved 
that  those  vast  schemes  of  reform,  which  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton spent  his  political  life  in  opposing,  were,  I  will  not  say  expe- 
dient or  advisable,  but  indispensably  necessary.  That  policy  of 
resisting  the  popular  will  which  he  constantly  advised  is  precisely 
the  policy  which  has  been  pursued,  since  the  Congress  of  Vienna, 
in  every  monarchy  except  our  own.  The  result  of  that  policy  is 
written  for  our  instruction ;  it  is  written  in  that  great  explosion 
of  popular  passion,  which  in  the  moment  of  its  wrath  upset  the 
proudest  thrones,  destroyed  princely  families,  ruined  noble  houses, 
desolated  beautiful  cities.  And  if  the  counsel  of  our  great  gen- 
eral had  been  followed,  if  the  just  demands  of  the  people  had  been 
refused,  —  this  same  lesson  would  have  been  written  in  the  annals 
of  our  own  land,  and  we  should  most  assuredly  have  been  unable 


450  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  escape  the  consequence  of  that  terrible  catastrophe  in  which 
the  ignorance  and  selfishness  of  rulers  did,  only  a  few  years  ago, 
involve  a  large  part  of  the  civilized  world. 

Thus  striking  is  the  contrast  between  the  military  genius  of 
ancient  times  and  the  military  genius  of  modern  Europe.  The 
causes  of  this  decay  are  clearly  traceable  to  the  circumstance, 
that  owing  to  the  immense  increase  of  intellectual  employments, 
few  men  of  ability  will  now  enter  a  profession  into  which  in 
antiquity  men  of  ability  eagerly  crowded,  as  supplying  the  best 
means  of  exercising  those  faculties  which  in  more  civilized  coun- 
tries are  turned  to  a  better  account.  This,  indeed,  is  a  very 
important  change  ;  and  thus  to  transfer  the  most  powerful  intel- 
lects from  the  arts  of  war  to  the  arts  of  peace  has  been  the  slow 
work  of  many  centuries,  the  gradual  but  constant  encroachments 
of  advancing  knowledge.  To  write  the  history  of  those  encroach- 
ments would  be  to  write  the  history  of  the  human  intellect,  —  a 
task  impossible  for  any  single  man  adequately  to  perform.  But  the 
subject  is  one  of  such  interest,  and  has  been  so  little  studied,  that 
though  I  have  already  carried  this  analysis  further  than  I  had 
intended,  I  cannot  refrain  from  noticing  what  appear  to  me  to  be 
the  three  leading  ways  in  which  the  warlike  spirit  of  the  ancient 
world  has  been  weakened  by  the  progress  of  European  knowledge. 

The  first  of  these  arose  out  of  the  invention  of  gunpowder, 
which,  though  a  warlike  contrivance,  has  in  its  results  been  emi- 
nently serviceable  to  the  interests  of  "peace.1  This  important 
invention  is  said  to  have  been  made  in  the  thirteenth  century,2 
but  was  not  in  common  use  until  the  fourteenth,  or  even  the 

1  The  consequences  of  the  invention  of  gunpowder  are  considered  very  super- 
ficially by  Frederick  Schlegel  (Lectures  on  the  History  of  Literature,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  37,  38),  and  by  Dugald  Stewart  (Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  Vol.  I,  p.  262). 
They  are  examined  with  much  greater  ability,  though  by  no  means  exhaustively, 
in   Smith's   Wealth  of  Nations,   Book  V,  chap,  i,  pp.    292,    296,   297 ;    Herder, 
Ideen  zur  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,  Vol.  IV,  p.  301  ;  Hallam's  Middle  Ages, 
Vol.  II,  p.  470. 

2  From  the  following  authorities  it  appears  impossible  to  trace  it  further  back 
than  the  thirteenth  century,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  Arabs  were,  as  is 
commonly  supposed,  the  inventors:  Humboldt's  Cosmos,  Vol.. II,  p.  590;  Koch, 
Tableau  des  Revolutions,  Vol.  I,  p.  242 ;    Beckmann's   History  of  Inventions, 
1846,  Vol.  II,  p.  505;  Histoire  Lit.  de  la  France,  Vol.  XX,  p.  236;  Thomson's 
History  of  Chemistry,  Vol.  I,  p.  36;  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Vol.  I,  p.  341.    The 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL.  LAWS    45 1 

beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Scarcely  had  it  come  into 
operation,  when  it  worked  a  great  change  in  the  whole  scheme 
and  practice  of  war.  Before  this  time  it  was  considered  the  duty 
of  nearly  every  citizen  to  be  prepared  to  enter  the  military  serv- 
ice for  the  purpose  either  of  defending  his  own  country  or  of 
attacking  others.1  Standing  armies  were  entirely  unknown,  and 
in  their  place  there  existed  a  rude  and  barbarous  militia,  always 
ready  for  battle,  and  always  unwilling  to  engage  in  those  peace- 
ful pursuits  which  were  then  universally  despised.  Nearly  every 
man  being  a  soldier,  the  military  profession,  as  such,  had  no  sep- 
arate existence ;  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  the  whole  of  Europe 
composed  one  great  army,  in  which  all  other  professions  were 
merged.  To  this  the  only  exception  was  the  ecclesiastical  pro- 
fession ;  but  even  that  was  affected  by  the  general  tendency, 
and  it  was  not  at  all  uncommon  to  see  large  bodies  of  troops  led 
to  the  field  by  bishops  and  abbots,  to  most  of  whom  the  arts  of 
war  were  in  those  days  perfectly  familiar.2  At  all  events,  between 
these  two  professions  men  were  necessarily  divided  ;  the  only 
avocations  were  war  and  theology;  and  if  you  refused  to  enter 
the  church,  you  were  bound  to  serve  in  the  army.  As  a  natural 
consequence,  everything  of  real  importance  was  altogether  neg- 
lected. There  were,  indeed,  many  priests  and  many  warriors, 

statements  in  Erman's  Siberia,  Vol.  I,  pp.  370,  371,  are  more  positive  than  the 
evidence  \ve  are  possessed  of  will  justify;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  sort 
of  gunpowder  was  at  an  early  period  used  in  China,  and  in  other  parts  of  Asia. 

1  Vattel,  Le  Droit  des  Gens,  Vol.  II,  p.  129;  Lingard's  History  of  England, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  356,  357.    Among  the  Anglo-Saxons,  "  all  free  men  and  proprietors 
of  land,  except  the  ministers  of  religion,  were  trained  to  the  use  of  arms,  and 
always  held  ready  to  take  the  field  at  a  moment's  warning  "  (Eccleston's  English 
Antiquities,  p.  62).    "  There  was  no  distinction  between  the  soldier  and  the  citi- 
zen" (Palgrave's  Anglo-Saxon  Commonwealth,  Vol.  I,  p.  200). 

2  On  these  warlike  ecclesiastics,  compare  Grose's  Military  Antiquities,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  67-68;  Lingard's  History  of  England,  Vol.  II,  pp.  26,  183;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  14; 
Turner's  History  of  England,  Vol.  IV,  p.  458;  Vol.  V,  pp.  92,  402,  406;  Mos- 
heim's  Ecclesiastical  History,  Vol.  I,  pp.  173,  193,  241  ;  Crichton's  Scandinavia, 
Vol.   I,  p.  220,   Edinburgh,    1838.    Such  opponents  were  the   more  formidable 
because  in  those  happy  days  it  was  sacrilege  for  a  layman  to  lay  hands  on  a 
bishop.    In  1095  his  Holiness  the  Pope  caused  a  council  to  declare,  "Quod  qui 
apprehenderit  episcopum  omnino  exlex  fiat "  (Matthaei   Paris   Historiae  Major, 
p.  18).    As  the  context  contains  no  limitation  of  this,  it  would  follow  that  a  man 
became  spiritually  outlawed  if  he,  even  in  self-defense,  took  a  bishop  prisoner. 


452  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

many  sermons  and  many  battles.1  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
was  neither  trade,  nor  commerce,  nor  manufactures  ;  there  was 
no  science,  no  literature  :  the  useful  arts  were  entirely  unknown  ; 
and  even  the  highest  ranks  of  society  were  unacquainted  not 
only  with  the  most  ordinary  comforts  but  with  the  commonest 
decencies  of  civilized  life. 

But  so  soon  as  gunpowder  came  into  use,  there  was  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  great  change.  According  to  the  old  system,  a 
man  had  only  to  possess  what  he  generally  inherited  from  his 
father,  either  a  sword  or  a  bow,  and  he  was  ready  equipped  for  the 
field.2  According  to  the  new  system,  new  means  were  required, 
and  the  equipment  became  more  costly  and  more  difficult.  First, 
there  was  the  supply  of  gunpowder,3  then  there  was  the  posses- 
sion of  muskets,  which  were  expensive  weapons  and  considered 

1  As  Sharon  Turner  observes  of  England  under  the  Anglo-Saxon  government, 
"  War  and  religion  were  the  absorbing  subjects  of  this  period"  (Turner's  History 
of  England,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  263).  And  a  recent  scientific  historian  says  of  Europe 
generally :  "  alle  Kiinste  und  Kenntnisse,  die  sich  nicht  auf  das  edle  Kriegs-, 
Rauf-  und  Raubhandwerk  bezogen,  waren  iiberfliissig  und  schadlich.  Nur  etwas 
Theologie  war  vonnothen,  um  die  Erde  mit  dem  Himmel  zu  verbinden  "  (Winck- 
ler,  Geschichte  der  Botanik,  1854,  p.  56). 

-  In  1181  Henry  II  of  England  ordered  that  every  man  should  have  either  a 
sword  or  a  bow,  which  he  was  not  to  sell  but  leave  to  his  heir:  "caeteri  autem 
omnes  haberent  wanbasiam,  capellum  ferreum,  lanceam  et  gladium,  vel  arcum 
et  sagittas :  et  prohibuit  ne  aliquis  arma  sua  venderet  vel  invadiaret ;  sed 
cum  moreretur,  daret  ilia  propinquiori  haeredi  suo "  (Rog.  de  Hov.  Annal.  in 
Scriptores  post  Bedam,  p.  348  rev.).  In  the  reign  of  Edward  I  it  was  ordered 
that  every  man  possessing  land  to  the  value  of  forty  shillings  should  keep  "a 
sword,  bow  and  arrows,  and  a  dagger.  .  .  .  Those  who  were  to  keep  bows  and 
arrows  might  have  them  out  of  the  forest "  (Grose's  Military  Antiquities,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  301,  302).  Compare  Geijer's  History  of  the  Swedes,  Part  I,  p.  94.  Even  late 
in  the  fifteenth  century  there  were  at  the  universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
"  in  each  from  four  to  five  thousand  scholars,  all  grown  up,  carrying  swords  and 
bows,  and  in  great  part  gentry "  (Sir  William  Hamilton  on  the  history  of  uni- 
versities, in  Hamilton's  Philosophical  Discussions,  p.  414).  One  of  the  latest 
attempts  made  to  revive  archery  was  a  warrant  issued  by  Elizabeth  in  1596, 
and  printed  by  Mr.  Collier  in  the  Egerton  Papers,  pp.  217-220,  edit.  Camden 
Society,  1840.  In  the  southwest  of  England  bows  and  arrows  did  not  finally 
disappear  from  the  muster  rolls  till  1599,  and  in  the  meantime  the  musket  gained 
ground.  See  Yonge's  Diary,  edit.  Camden  Society,  1848,  p.  xvii. 

8  It  is  stated  by  many  writers  that  no  gunpowder  was  manufactured  in  England 
until  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  See  Camden's  Annals  of  the  Reign  of  Elizabeth,  and 
Kennett's  History,  Vol.  II,  p.  388,  London,  1719;  Strickland's  Queens  of  England, 
Vol.VI,p.  223,  London,  1843;  Grose's  Military  Antiquities.Vol.  I, p.  378.  But  Sharon 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    453 

difficult  to  manage.1  Then,  too,  there  were  other  contrivances  to 
which  gunpowder  naturally  gave  rise,  such  as  pistols,  bombs, 
mortars,  shells,  mines,  and  the  like.2  All  these  things,  by  increas- 
ing the  complication  of  the  military  art,  increased  the  necessity 
of  discipline  and  practice  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  change 
that  was  being  effected  in  the  ordinary  weapons  deprived  the 
great  majority  of  men  of  the  possibility  of  procuring  them.  To 
suit  these  altered  circumstances  a  new  system  was  organized  ; 
and  it  was  found  advisable  to  train  up  bodies  of  men  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  war,  and  to  separate  them  as  much  as  possible  from 
those  other  employments  in  which  formerly  all  soldiers  were 

Turner  (History  of  England,  Vol.  VI,  pp.  490,  491,  London,  1839)  has  shown,  from 
an  order  of  Richard  III  in  the  Harleian  manuscripts,  that  it  was  made  in  England 
in  1483;  and  Mr.  Eccleston  (English  Antiquities,  p.  182,  London,  1847)  states 
that  the  English  both  made  and  exported  it  as  early  as  1411  :  compare  p.  202. 
At  all  events,  it  long  remained  a  costly  article  ;  and  even  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I, 
I  find  a  complaint  of  its  dearness,  "whereby  the  train-bands  are  much  discour- 
aged in  their  exercising"  (Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  II,  p.  655).  In  1686  it 
appears  from  the  Clarendon  Correspondence  (Vol.  I,  p.  413)  that  the  wholesale 
price  ranged  from  about  £2  IQS.  to  ^"3  a  barrel.  On  the  expense  of  making  it 
in  the  present  century,  see  Liebig  and  Kopp's  Reports  on  Chemistry,  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  325,  London,  1852. 

1  The  muskets  were  such  miserable  machines  that  in  the  middle  of  the  fif- 
teenth century  it  took  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  charge  and  fire  one  (Hallam's 
Middle  Ages,  Vol.  I,  p.  342).    Grose  (Military  Antiquities,  Vol.  I,  p.  146;  Vol.  II, 
pp.  292,  337)  says,  that  the  first  mention  of  muskets  in  England  is  in  1471 ;  and 
that  rests  for  them  did  not  become  obsolete  until  the  reign  of  Charles  I.    In 
the  recent  edtion  of  Beckmann's  History  of  Inventions,  Vol.  II,  p.  535,  London, 
1846,  it  is  strangely  supposed  that  muskets  were  "first  used  at  the  battle  of 
Pavia."    Compare   Daniel,  Histoire  de  la  Milice  Fransaise,  Vol.  I,  p.  464,  with 
Smythe's  Military  Discourses,  in  Ellis'  Original  Letters,  p.  53,  edit.  Camden  Society. 

2  Pistols  are  said  to  have  been  invented  early  in  the  sixteenth  century  (Grose's 
Military   Antiquities,  Vol.   I,  pp.   102,  146).    Gunpowder  was  first  employed  in 
mining  towns  in  1487.    See  Prescott's  History  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  Vol.  II, 
p.  32 ;  Koch,  Tableau  des   Revolutions,  Vol.  I,  p.  243 ;  Daniel,  Histoire  de  la 
Milice  Fran£aise,  Vol.  I,  p.  574.    Daniel  (Milice  Fran9aise,  Vol.  I,  pp.  580,  581) 
says  that  bombs  were  not  invented  till  1588;  and  the  same  thing  is  asserted 
in  Biographic   Universelle,  Vol.  XV,  p.   248 ;  but,  according  to  Grose  (Military 
Antiquities,  Vol.  I,  p.  387),  they  are  mentioned  by  Valturinus  in   1472.    On   the 
general  condition  of  the  French  artillery  in  the  sixteenth  century,  see  Relations 
des  Ambassadeurs  Venitiens,  4to,  Vol.  I,  pp.  94,  476,  478,  Paris,  1838:  a  curious 
and  valuable  publication.    There  is  some  doubt  as  to  the  exact  period  in  which 
cannons  were  first  known,  but  they  were  certainly  used  in  war  before  the  middle 
of  the  fourteenth  century.    See   Bohlen,   Das  alte   Indien,  Vol.  II,  p.  63,  and 
Daniel,  Histoire  de  la  Milice  Fran9aise,  Vol.  I,  pp.  441,  442. 


454  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

occasionally  engaged.  Thus  it  was  that  there  arose  standing 
armies  ;  the  first  of  which  were  formed  in  the  middle  of  the 
fifteenth  century l  almost  immediately  after  gunpowder  was  gen- 
erally known.  Thus,  too,  there  arose  the  custom  of  employing 
mercenary  troops,  of  which  we  find  a  few  earlier  instances, 
though  the  practice  was  not  fully  established  until  the  latter 
part  of  the  fourteenth  century.2 

The  importance  of  this  movement  was  soon  seen  by  the  change 
it  effected  in  the  classification  of  European  society.  The  regular 
troops  being,  from  their  discipline,  more  serviceable  against  the 
enemy,  and  also  more  immediately  under  the  control  of  the  gov- 
ernment, it  naturally  followed  that  as  their  merits  became  under- 
stood, the  old  militia  should  fall  first  into  disrepute,  then  be 
neglected,  and  then  sensibly  diminish.  At  the  same  time,  this 
diminution  in  the  number  of  undisciplined  soldiers  deprived  the 
country  of  a  part  of  its  warlike  resources,  and  therefore  made  it 
necessary  to  pay  more  attention  to  the  disciplined  ones,  and  to 
confine  them  more  exclusively  to  their  military  duties.  Thus  it 
was  that  a  division  was  first  broadly  established  between  the 
soldier  and  the  civilian,  and  there  arose  a  separate  military  pro- 
fession,3 which,  consisting  of  a  comparatively  small  number  of 
the  total  amount  of  citizens,  left  the  remainder  to  settle  in  some 
other  pursuit.4  In  this  way  immense  bodies  of  men  were  gradu- 
ally weaned  from  their  old  warlike  habits ;  and  being,  as  it  were, 

1  Blackstone's  Commentaries,  Vol.  I,  p.  413  ;  Daniel,  Histoire  de  la  Milice  Fran- 
9aise,  Vol.  I,  p.  210;  Vol.  II,  pp.  491,  493;  CEuvres  de  Turgot,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  228. 

2  The  leading  facts  respecting  the  employment  of  mercenary  troops  are  indi- 
cated with  great  judgment  by  Mr.  Hallam  in  his  Middle  Ages,  Vol.  I,  pp.  328-337. 

8  Grose  (Military  Antiquities,  Vol.  I,  pp.  310,  311)  says,  that  until  the  sixteenth 
century  English  soldiers  had  no  professional  dress,  but  "were  distinguished  by 
badges  of  their  leaders'  arms,  similar  to  those  now  worn  by  watermen."  It  was 
also  early  in  the  sixteenth  century  that  there  first  arose  a  separate  military  litera- 
ture. Daniel  (Histoire  de  la  Milice  Fran9aise,  Vol.  I,  p.  380)  says :  "  Les  auteurs 
qui  ont  ecrit  en  detail  sur  la  discipline  militaire  :  or  ce  n'est  gueres  que  sous 
Fran9ois  I,  et  .sous  1'Empereur  Charles  V,  que  les  Italiens,  les  Francois,  les 
Espagnols  et  les  Allemans  ont  commence  a  ecrire  sur  ce  sujet." 

4  The  change  from  the  time  when  every  layman  was  a  soldier  is  very  remark- 
able. Adam  Smith  (Wealth  of  Nations,  Book  V,  chap,  i,  p.  291)  says,  "Among 
the  civilized  nations  of  modern  Europe  it  is  commonly  computed  that  not  more 
than  the  one-hundredth  part  of  the  inhabitants  of  any  country  can  be  employed 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS 


455 


forced  into  civil  life,  their  energies  became  available  for  the  gen- 
eral purposes  of  society,  and  for  the  cultivation  of  those  arts 
of  peace  which  had  formerly  been  neglected.  The  result  was, 
that  the  European  mind,  instead  of  being,  as  heretofore,  solely 
occupied  either  with  war  or  with  theology,  now  struck  out  into 
a  middle  path,  and  created  those  great  branches  of  knowledge  to 
which  modern  civilization  owes  its  origin.  In  each  successive 
generation  this  tendency  towards  a  separate  organization  was 
more  marked  ;  the  utility  of  a  division  of  labor  became  clearly 
recognized  ;  and  as  by  this  means  knowledge  itself  advanced, 
the  authority  of  this  middle  or  intellectual  class  correspondingly 
increased.  Each  addition  to  its  power  lessened  the  weight  of  the 
other  two  classes,  and  checked  those  superstitious  feelings  and 
that  love  of  war  on  which,  in  an  early  state  of  society,  all  enthusi- 
asm is  concentrated.  The  evidence  of  the  growth  and  diffusion 
of  this  intellectual  principle  is  so  full  and  decisive  that  it  would 
be  possible,  by  combining  all  the  branches  of  knowledge,  to  trace 
nearly  the  whole  of  its  consecutive  steps.  At  present  it  is  enough 
to  say  that,  taking  a  general  view,  this  third  or  intellectual  class 
first  displayed  an  independent,  though  still  a  vague,  activity  in 
the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  ;  that  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury this  activity,  assuming  a  distinct  form,  showed  itself  in 
religious  outbreaks  ;  that  in  the  seventeenth  century  its  energy, 
becoming  more  practical,  was  turned  against  the  abuses  of  govern- 
ment, and  caused  a  series  of  rebellions  from  which  hardly  any 
part  of  Europe  escaped  ;  and  finally,  that  in  the  eighteenth  and 
nineteenth  centuries  it  has  extended  its  aim  to  every  department 
of  public  and  private  life,  diffusing  education,  teaching  legislators, 
controlling  kings,  and,  above  all,  settling  on  a  sure  foundation 
that  supremacy  of  public  opinion  to  which  not  only  constitutional 
princes  but  even  the  most  despotic  sovereigns  are  now  rendered 
strictly  amenable. 

as  soldiers  without  ruin  to  the  country  which  pays  the  expense  of  their  service." 
The  same  proportion  is  given  in  Sadler's  Law  of  Population,  Vol.  I,  p.  292,  and 
in  Grandeur  et  Decadence  des  Romains,  chap,  iii,  —  CEuvres  de  Montesquieu, 
p.  130;  also  in  Sharpe's  History  of  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  p.  105 ;  and  in  Alison's  History 
of  Europe,  Vol.  XII,  p.  318. 


456  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

These,  indeed,  are  vast  questions,  and  without  some  knowledge 
of  them  no  one  can  understand  the  present  condition  of  European 
society,  or  form  the  least  idea  of  its  future  prospects.  It  is, 
however,  sufficient  that  the  reader  can  now  perceive  the  way  in 
which  so  slight  a  matter  as  the  invention  of  gunpowder  dimin- 
ished the  warlike  spirit,  by  diminishing  the  number  of  persons  to 
whom  the  practice  of  war  was  habitual.  There  were,  no  doubt, 
other  and  collateral  circumstances  which  tended  in  the  same  direc- 
tion ;  but  the  use  of  gunpowder  was  the  most  effectual  because, 
by  increasing  the  difficulty  and  expense  of  war,  it  made  a  separate 
military  profession  indispensable ;  and  thus,  curtailing  the  action 
of  the  military  spirit,  left  an  overplus,  an  unemployed  energy, 
which  soon  found  its  way  to  the  pursuits  of  peace,  infused  into 
them  a  new  life,  and  began  to  control  that  lust  of  conquest  which, 
though  natural  to  a  barbarous  people,  is  the  great  enemy  of 
knowledge,  and  is  the  most  fatal  of  those  diseased  appetites  by 
which  even  civilized  countries  are  too  often  afflicted. 

The  second  intellectual  movement  by  which  the  love  of  war 
has  been  lessened  is  much  more  recent,  and  has  not  yet  produced 
the  whole  of  its  natural  effects.  I  allude  to  the  discoveries  made 
by  political  economy,  —  a  branch  of  knowledge  with  which  even 
the  wisest  of  the  ancients  had  not  the  least  acquaintance,  but 
which  possesses  an  importance  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate, 
and  is,  moreover,  remarkable  as  being  the  only  subject  immedi- 
ately connected  with  the  art  of  government  that  has  yet  been 
raised  to  a  science.  The  practical  value  of  this  noble  study, 
though  perhaps  only  fully  known  to  the  more  advanced  thinkers, 
is  gradually  becoming  recognized  by  men  of  ordinary  education  ; 
but  even  those  by  whom  it  is  understood  seem  to  have  paid  little 
attention  to  the  way  in  which,  by  its  influence,  the  interests  of 
peace,  and  therefore  of  civilization,  have  been  directly  promoted.1 
The  manner  in  which  this  has  been  brought  about  I  will  endeavor 
to  explain,  as  it  will  furnish  another  argument  in  support  of  that 
great  principle  which  I  wish  to  establish. 

1  The  pacific  tendencies  of  political  economy  are  touched  on  very  briefly  in 
Blanqui,  Histoire  de  1'ficonomie  Politique,  Vol.  II,  p.  207,  and  in  Twiss'  Progress 
of  Political  Economy,  p.  240. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS 


457 


It  is  well  known  that  among  the  different  causes  of  war  com- 
mercial jealousy  was  formerly  one  of  the  most  conspicuous;  and 
there  are  numerous  instances  of  quarrels  respecting  the  promul- 
gation of  some  particular  tariff,  or  the  protection  of  some  favorite 
manufacture.  Disputes  of  this  kind  were  founded  upon  the  very 
ignorant  but  the  very  natural  notion  that  the  advantages  of  com- 
merce depend  upon  the  balance  of  trade,  and  that  whatever  is 
gained  by  one  country  must  be  lost  by  another.  It  was  believed 
that  wealth  is  composed  entirely  of  money,  and  that  it  is  there- 
fore the  essential  interest  of  every  people  to  import  few  com- 
modities and  much  gold.  Whenever  this  was  done,  affairs  were 
said  to  be  in  a  sound  and  healthy  state  ;  but  if  this  was  not  done, 
it  was  declared  that  we  were  being  drained  of  our  resources,  and 
that  some  other  country  was  getting  the  better  of  us,  and  was 
enriching  itself  at  our  expense.1  For  this  the  only  remedy  was, 
to  negotiate  a  commercial  treaty  which  should  oblige  the  offend- 
ing nation  to  take  more  of  .our  commodities,  and  give  us  more  of 
their  gold  ;  if,  however,  they  refused  to  sign  the  treaty,  it  became 
necessary  to  bring  them  to  reason,  and  for  this  purpose  an  arma- 
ment was  fitted  out  to  attack  a  people  who,  by  lessening  our 
wealth,  had  deprived  us  of  that  money  by  which  alone  trade 
could  be  extended  in  foreign  markets.2 

1  This  favorite  doctrine  is  illustrated  in  a  curious  "  Discourse,"  written  in  1578, 
and  printed  in  Stow's  London,  in  which  it  is  laid  down,  that  if  our  exports  exceed 
our  imports,  we  gain  by  the  trade ;   but  that  if  they  are  less,  we  lose  (Stow's 
London,  edited  by  Thorns,  1842,  p.  205).    Whenever  this  balance  was  disturbed, 
politicians  were  thrown  into  an  agony  of  fear.    In  1620  James  I  said,  in  one  of  his 
long  speeches,  "  It 's  strange  that  my  Mint  hath  not  gone  this  eight  or  nine  years  : 
but  I  think  the  fault  of  the  want  of  money  is  the  uneven  balancing  of  trade  "  (Parlia- 
mentary History,  Vol.  I, p.  1 179).    See  also  the  debate  "  On  the  Scarcity  of  Money," 
pp.  1194—1196.    In  1620  the  House  of  Commons,  in  a  state  of  great  alarm,  passed 
a  resolution,  "  That  the  importation  of  tobacco  out  of  Spain  is  one  reason  of  the 
scarcity  of  money  in  this  kingdom  "  (Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  I,  p.  1 198).    In 
1627  it  was  actually  argued  in  the  House  of  Commons  that  the  Netherlands  were 
being  weakened  by  their  trade  with  the  East  Indies  because  it  carried  money  out 
of  the  country  !  (Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  II,  p.  220).    Half  a  century  later  the 
same  principle  was  advocated  by  Sir  William  Temple  in  his  Letters,  and  also  in 
his  Observations  upon  the  United  Provinces  (Temple's  Works,  Vol.  I,  p.  175; 
Vol.  II,  pp.  117,  118). 

2  In  1672  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  then  Lord  Chancellor,  announced 
that  the  time  had  come  when  the  English  must  go  to  war  with  the  Dutch,  for 


458  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

This  misconception  of  the  true  nature  of  barter  was  formerly 
universal,1  and  being  adopted  even  by  the  ablest  politicians  was 
not  only  an  immediate  cause  of  war  but  increased  those  feelings 
of  national  hatred  by  which  war  is  encouraged,  each  country 
thinking  that  it  had  a  direct  interest  in  diminishing  the  wealth 
of  its  neighbors.2  In  the  seventeenth,  or  even  late  in  the  six- 
teenth, century  there  were,  indeed,  one  or  two  eminent  thinkers 
who  exposed  some  of  the  fallacies  upon  which  this  opinion 
was  based.3  But  their  arguments  found  no  favor  with  those 

that  it  was  "  impossible  both  should  stand  upon  a  balance,  and  that  if  we  do  not 
master  their  trade,  they  will  ours.  They  or  we  must  truckle.  One  must  and  will 
give  the  law  to  the  other.  There  is  no  compounding  where  the  contest  is  for  the 
trade  of  the  whole  world  "  (Somers  Tracts,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  39).  A  few  months  later, 
still  insisting  on  the  propriety  of  the  war,  he  gave  as  one  of  his  reasons,  that  it 
"  was  necessary  to  the  trade  of  England  that  there  should  be  a  fair  adjustment  of 
commerce  in  the  East  Indies  "  (Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  IV,  p.  587).  In  1701 
Stepney,  a  diplomatist  and  one  of  the  lords  of  trade,  published  an  essay,  strongly 
insisting  on  the  benefits  which  would  accrue  to  English  commerce  by  a  war  with 
France  (Somers  Tracts,  Vol.  XI,  pp.  199,  217) ;  and  he  says  (p.  205)  that  one  of 
the  consequences  of  peace  with  France  would  be  "  the  utter  ruin  and  destruction 
of  our  trade."  See  also  in  Vol.  XIII,  p.  688,  the  remarks  on  the  policy  of  Wil- 
liam III.  In  1743  Lord  Hardwicke,  one  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  his  time, 
said  in  the  House  of  Lords,  "  If  our  wealth  is  diminished,  it  is  time  to  ruin  the 
commerce  of  that  nation  which  has  driven  us  from  the  markets  of  the  Continent 
—  by  sweeping  the  seas  of  their  ships,  and  by  blockading  their  ports  "  (Campbell's 
Lives  of  the  Chancellors,  Vol.  V,  p.  89). 

1  In  regard  to  the  seventeenth  century,  see  Mill's  History  of  India,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  41,  42.    To  this  I  may  add,  that  even  Locke  had  very  confused  notions  respect- 
ing the  use  of  money  in  trade.    See  "  Essay  on  Money,"  in  Locke's  Works,  Vol.  IV ; 
and  in  particular,  pp.  9,  10,  12,  20,  21,  49-52.    Berkeley,  profound  thinker  as  he 
was,  fell  into  the  same  errors,  and  assumes  the  necessity  of  maintaining  the  bal- 
ance of  trade,  and  lessening  our  imports  in  proportion  as  we  lessen  our  exports. 
See  the  Querist,  Nos.  xcix,  clxi,  in  Berkeley's  Works,  Vol.  II,  pp.  246,  250;  see 
also  his  proposal  for  a  sumptuary  law,  in  "  Essay  towards  preventing  the  Ruin  of 
Great  Britain,"  in  Works,  Vol.  II,  p.  190.  [Also  in  the  Querist,  No.  ciii.]    The  eco- 
nomical views  of  Montesquieu  (Esprit  des  Lois,  Livre  XX,  chap,  xii,  in  QEuvres, 
p.  353)  are  as  hopelessly  wrong;  while  Vattel  (Droit  des  Gens,  Vol.  I,  pp.  in, 
117,  1 1 8,  206)  goes  out  of  his  way  to  praise  the  mischievous  interference  of  the 
English  government,  which  he  recommends  as  a  pattern  to  other  states. 

2  The  Earl  of  Bristol,  a  man  of  some  ability,  told  the  House  of  Lords  in  1642 
that  it  was  a  great  advantage  to  England  for  other  countries  to  go  to  war  with 
each  other,  because  by  that  means  we  should  get  their  money,  or,  as  he  called  it, 
their  "wealth."    See  his  speech  in  Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  II,  pp.  1274-1279. 

8  Serra,  who  wrote  in  1613,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  prove  the  absurdity 
of  discouraging  the  exportation  of  the  precious  metals.  See  Twiss  on  the  Progress 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    459 

politicians  by  whom  European  affairs  were  then  administered. 
It  is  doubtful  if  they  were  known ;  and  it  is  certain  that,  if  known, 
they  were  despised  by  statesmen  and  legislators,  who,  from  the 
constancy  of  their  practical  occupations,  cannot  be  supposed  to 
have  sufficient  leisure  to  master  each  new  discovery  that  is  suc- 
cessively made,  and  who  in  consequence  are,  as  a  body,  always 
in  the  rear  of  their  age.  The  result  was,  that  they  went  blunder- 
ing on  in  the  old  track,  believing  that  no  commerce  could  flourish 
without  their  interference,  troubling  that  commerce  by  repeated 
and  harassing  regulations,  and  taking  for  granted  that  it  was 
the  duty  of  every  government  to  benefit  the  trade  of  its  own 
people  by  injuring  the  trade  of  others.1 

But  in  the  eighteenth  century  a  long  course  of  events,  which 
I  shall  hereafter  trace,  prepared  the  way  for  a  spirit  of  improve- 
ment and  a  desire  for  reform,  of  which  the  world  had  then  seen 

of  Political  Economy,  pp.  8,  12,  13.  But  I  believe  that  the  earliest  approach 
towards  modern  economical  discoveries  is  a  striking  essay  published  in  1581,  and 
ascribed  to  William  Stafford.  It  will  be  found  in  the  Harleian  Miscellany,  Vol.  IX, 
pp.  139-192,  edited  by  Park,  1812;  and  the  title,  "Brief  Conceipt  of  English 
Policy,"  gives  an  inadequate  idea  of  what  is,  on  the  whole,  the  most  important 
work  on  the  theory  of  politics  which  had  then  appeared,  since  the  author  not 
only  displays  an  insight  into  the  nature  of  price  and  value,  such  as  no  previous 
thinker  possessed,  but  he  points  out  clearly  the  causes  of  that  system  of  inclo- 
sures  which  is  the  leading  economical  fact  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  and  is  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  rise  of  the  poor-laws.  Some  account  of  this  essay  is 
given  by  Dr.  Twiss,  but  the  original  is  easily  accessible,  and  should  be  read  by 
every  student  of  English  history.  Among  other  heretical  propositions  it  recom- 
mends free  trade  in  corn. 

1  In  regard  to  the  interference  of  the  English  legislature,  it  is  stated  by  Mr. 
M'Culloch  (Political  Economy,  p.  269),  on  the  authority  of  a  committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  that  before  the  year  1820  "  no  fewer  than  two  thousand  laws 
with  respect  to  commerce  had  been  passed  at  different  periods."  It  may  be  con- 
fidently asserted  that  every  one  of  those  laws  was  an  unmitigated  evil,  since  no 
trade,  and  indeed  no  interest  of  any  kind,  can  be  protected  by  government  without 
inflicting  immeasurably  greater  loss  upon  the  unprotected  interests  and  trades ; 
while  if  the  protection  is  universal,  the  loss  will  be  universal.  Some  striking 
instances  of  the  absurd  laws  which  have  been  passed  respecting  trade  are  col- 
lected in  Barrington's  Observations  on  the  Statutes,  pp.  279-285.  Indeed,  it  was 
considered  necessary  that  every  Parliament  should  do  something  in  this  way ;  and 
Charles  II,  in  one  of  his  speeches,  says,  "  I  pray,  contrive  any  good  short  bills 
which  may  improve  the  industry  of  the  nation  .  .  .  and  so  God  bless  your  councils  " 
(Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  IV,  p.  291).  Compare  the  remarks  on  the  fishery 
trade,  in  Somers  Tracts,  Vol.  XII,  p.  33. 


460  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

no  example.  This  great  movement  displayed  its  energy  in  every 
department  of  knowledge  ;  and  now  it  was  that  a  successful 
attempt  was  first  made  to  raise  political  economy  to  a  science, 
by  discovering  the  laws  which  regulate  the  creation  and  diffusion 
of  wealth.  In  the  year  1776  Adam  Smith  published  his  Wealth 
of  Nations,  which,  looking  at  its  ultimate  results,  is  probably  the 
most  important  book  that  has  ever  been  written,  and  is  certainly 
the  most  valuable  contribution  ever  made  by  a  single  man 
towards  establishing  the  principles  on  which  government  should 
be  based.  In  this  great  work  the  old  theory  of  protection  as 
applied  to  commerce  was  destroyed  in  nearly  all  its  parts ; 1  the 
doctrine  of  the  balance  of  trade  was  not  only  attacked  but  its 
falsehood  was  demonstrated  ;  and  innumerable  absurdities,  which 
had  been  accumulating  for  ages,  were  suddenly  swept  away.2 

If  the  Wealth  of  Nations  had  appeared  in  any  preceding  cen- 
tury, it  would  have  shared  the  fate  of  the  great  works  of  Stafford 
and  Serra  ;  and  although  the  principles  which  it  advocated  would 
no  doubt  have  excited  the  attention  of  speculative  thinkers,  they 
would  in  all  probability  have  produced  no  effect  on  practical  poli- 
ticians, or,  at  all  events,  would  only  have  exercised  an  indirect 
and  precarious  influence.  But  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  had 
now  become  so  general  that  even  our  ordinary  legislators  were 
in  some  degree  prepared  for  these  great  truths  which  in  a  former 
period  they  would  have  despised  as  idle  novelties.  The  result 
was,  that  the  doctrines  of  Adam  Smith  soon  found  their  way  into 
the  House  of  Commons,3  and,  being  adopted  by  a  few  of  the 

1  To  this  the  only  exception  of  any  moment  is  the  view  taken  of  the  usury 
laws,  which  Jeremy  Bentham  has  the  honor  of  demolishing. 

2  Before  Adam  Smith,  the  principal  merit  is  due  to  Hume ;  but  the  works  of 
that  profound  thinker  were  too  fragmentary  to  produce  much  effect.    Indeed, 
Hume,  notwithstanding  his  vast  powers,  was  inferior  to  Smith  in  comprehensive- 
ness as  well  as  in  industry. 

8  The  first  notice  I  have  observed  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations  in  Parliament  is  in 
1783;  and  between  then  and  the  end  of  the  century  it  is  referred  to  several  times, 
and  latterly  with  increasing  frequency.  See  Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  XXIII, 
p.  1152;  Vol.  XXVI,  pp.  481,  1035;  Vol.  XXVII,  p.  385;  Vol.  XXIX,  pp.  834, 
905,  982,  1065;  Vol.  XXX,  pp.  330,  333;  Vol.  XXXII,  p.  2;  Vol.  XXXIII, 
PP-  353'  386>  522>  548,  549.  563>  774.  777.  778,  822,  823,  824,  825,  827,  1249; 
Vol.  XXXIV,  pp.  11,  97,  98,  141,  142,  304,  473,  850,  901,  902,  903.  It  is  possible 
that  one  or  two  passages  may  have  been  overlooked ;  but  I  believe  that  these  are 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    461 

leading  members,  were  listened  to  with  astonishment  by  that 
great  assembly  whose  opinions  were  mainly  regulated  by  the 
wisdom  of  their  ancestors,  and  who  were  loth  to  believe  that 
anything  could  be  discovered  by  the  moderns  which  was  not 
already  known  to  the  ancients.  But  it  is  in  vain  that  such  men 
as  these  always  set  themselves  up  to  resist  the  pressure  of  ad- 
vancing knowledge.  No  great  truth,  which  has  once  been 
found,  has  ever  afterwards  been  lost,  nor  has  any  important 
discovery  yet  been  made  which  has  not  eventually  carried  every- 
thing before  it.  Even  so,  the  principles  of  free  trade,  as  demon- 
strated by  Adam  Smith,  and  all  the  consequences  which  flow 
from  them,  were  vainly  struggled  against  by  the  most  overwhelm- 
ing majorities  of  both  houses  of  Parliament.  Year  by  year  the 
great  truth  made  its  way,  —  always  advancing,  never  receding.1 
The  majority  was  at  first  deserted  by  a  few  men  of  ability,  then 
by  ordinary  men,  then  it  became  a  minority,  then  even  the  minor- 
ity began  to  dwindle  ;  and  at  the  present  day,  eighty  years 
after  the  publication  of  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations,  there  is  not 
to  be  found  any  one  of  tolerable  education  who  is  not  ashamed 
of  holding  opinions  which,  before  the  time  of  Adam  Smith,  were 
universally  received. 

Such  is  the  way  in  which  great  thinkers  control  the  affairs  of 
men,  and  by  their  discoveries  regulate  the  march  of  nations. 
And  truly  the  history  of  this  one  triumph  alone  should  be 
enough  to  repress  the  presumption  of  statesmen  and  legislators, 
who  so  exaggerate  the  importance  of  their  craft  as  to  ascribe 

the  only  instances  of  Adam  Smith  being  referred  to  during  seventeen  years.  From 
a  passage  in  Pellew's  Life  of  Sidmouth,  Vol.  I,  p.  51,  it  appears  that  even  Adding- 
ton  was  studying  Adam  Smith  in  1787. 

1  In  1797  Pulteney,  in  one  of  his  financial  speeches,  appealed  to  "  the  authority 
of  Dr.  Smith,  who,  it  was  well  said,  would  persuade  the  present  generation  and 
govern  the  next  "  (Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  XXXIII,  p.  778).  In  1813  Dugald 
Stewart  (Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  Vol.  II,  p.  472)  announced  that  the 
doctrine  of  free  trade  "has  now,  I  believe,  become  the  prevailing  creed  of  think- 
ing men  all  over  Europe."  And  in  1816  Ricardo  said:  "  The  reasoning  by  which 
the  liberty  of  trade  is  supported  is  so  powerful  that  it  is  daily  obtaining  con- 
verts. It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  see  the  progress  which  this  great  principle  is 
making  amongst  those  whom  we  should  have  expected  to  cling  the  longest  to 
old  prejudices  "  ( "  Proposals  for  an  Economical  Currency,"  in  Ricardo's  Works, 
p.  407). 


462  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

great  results  to  their  own  shifting  and  temporary  contrivances. 
For  whence  did  they  derive  that  knowledge  of  which  they  are 
always  ready  to  assume  the  merit  ?  How  did  they  obtain  their 
opinions  ?  How  did  they  get  at  their  principles  ?  These  are  the 
elements  of  their  success ;  and  these  they  can  only  learn  from 
their  masters,  —  from  those  great  teachers  who,  moved  by  the 
inspiration  of  genius,  fertilize  the  world  with  their  discoveries. 
Well  may  it  be  said  of  Adam  Smith,  and  said  too  without  fear 
of  contradiction,  that  this  solitary  Scotchman  has,  by  the  publi- 
cation of  one  single  work,  contributed  more  towards  the  happi- 
ness of  man  than  has  been  effected  by  the  united  abilities  of  all 
the  statesmen  and  legislators  of  whom  history  has  preserved  an 
authentic  account. 

The  result  of  these  great  discoveries  I  am  not  here  concerned 
to  examine,  except  so  far  as  they  aided  in  diminishing  the  energy 
of  the  warlike  spirit.  And  the  way  in  which  they  effected  this 
may  be  easily  stated.  As  long  as  it  was  generally  believed  that 
the  wealth  of  a  country  consists  of  its  gold,  it  was  of  course  also 
believed  that  the  sole  object  of  trade  is  to  increase  the  influx  of 
the  precious  metals  ;  it  therefore  became  natural  that  govern- 
ment should  be  expected  to  take  measures  by  which  such  influx 
could  be  secured.  This,  however,  could  only  be  done  by  draining 
other  countries  of  their  gold,  —  a  result  which  they,  for  precisely 
the  same  reasons,  strenuously  resisted.  The  consequence  was, 
that  any  idea  of  real  reciprocity  was  impossible  ;  every  commer- 
cial treaty  was  an  attempt  made  by  one  nation  to  outwit  another; * 
every  new  tariff  was  a  declaration  of  hostility ;  and  that  which 
ought  to  be  the  most  peaceable  of  all  pursuits  became  one  of 
the  causes  of  those  national  jealousies  and  national  animosities 

1  Sir  Theodore  Janson,  in  his  General  Maxims  of  Trade,  published  in  1713, 
lays  it  down  as  a  principle  universally  recognized,  that  "  All  the  nations  of  Europe 
seem  to  strive  who  shall  outwit  one  another  in  point  of  trade ;  and  they  concur 
in  this  maxim,  That  the  less  they  consume  of  foreign  commodities,  the  better 
it  is  for  them"  (Somers  Tracts,  Vol.  XIII,  p.  292).  Thus,  too,  in  a  Dialogue 
between  an  Englishman  and  a  Dutchman,  published  in  1700,  the  Dutchman  is 
represented  as  boasting  that  his  government  had  "  forced  treaties  of  commerce 
exclusive  to  all  other  nations  "  (Somers  Tracts,  Vol.  XI,  p.  376).  This  is  the 
system  of  "  narrow  selfishness  "  denounced  by  Dr.  Story,  in  his  noble  work, 
Conflict  of  Laws,  1841,  p.  32. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    463 

by  which  war  is  mainly  promoted.1  But  when  it  was  once  clearly 
understood  that  gold  and  silver  are  not  wealth  but  are  merely 
the  representatives  of  wealth  ;  when  men  began  to  see  that 
wealth  itself  solely  consists  of  the  value  which  skill  and  labor 
can  add  to  the  raw  material,  and  that  money  is  of  no  possible 
use  to  a  nation  except  to  measure  and  circulate  their  riches,  — 
when  these  great  truths  were  recognized,2  all  the  old  notions 
respecting  the  balance  of  trade  and  the  supreme  importance  of 
the  precious  metals  at  once  fell  to  the  ground.  These  enormous 
errors  being  dispersed,  the  true  theory  of  barter  was  easily  worked 
out.  It  was  perceived  that  if  commerce  is  allowed  to  be  free,  its 
advantages  will  be  shared  by  every  country  which  engages  in  it; 
that,  in  the  absence  of  monopoly,  the  benefits  of  trade  are  of 
necessity  reciprocal ;  and  that,  so  far  from  depending  on  the 
amount  of  gold  received,  they  simply  arise  from  the  facility  with 
which  a  nation  gets  rid  of  those  commodities  which  it  can  pro- 
duce most  cheaply,  and  receives  in  return  those  commodities 
which  it  could  only  produce  at  a  great  expense,  but  which  the 
other  nation  can,  from  the  skill  of  its  workmen,  or  from  the 
bounty  of  nature,  afford  to  supply  at  a  lower  rate.  From  this  it 
follows  that  in  a  mercantile  point  of  view  it  would  be  as  absurd 
to  attempt  to  impoverish  a  people  with  whom  we  trade  as  it 
would  be  in  a  tradesman  to  wish  for  the  insolvency  of  a  rich  and 
frequent  customer.  The  result  is,  that  the  commercial  spirit, 
which  formerly  was  often  warlike,  is  now  invariably  pacific.3 
And  although  it  is  perfectly  true  that  not  one  merchant  out  of 

1  "  It  cannot,  indeed,  be  denied  that  mistaken  views  of  commerce,  like  those 
so  frequently  entertained  of  religion,  have  been  the  cause  of  many  wars  and  of 
much  bloodshed"  (M'Culloch's  Principles  of  Political  Economy,  p.  140).    See  also 
pp.  37,  38 :    "  It  has  made  each  nation  regard  the  welfare  of  its  neighbors  as 
incompatible  with  its  own  ;  hence  the  reciprocal  desire  of  injuring  and  impoverish- 
ing each  other ;  and  hence  that  spirit  of  commercial  rivalry  which  has  been  the 
immediate  or  remote  cause  of  the  greater  number  of  modern  wars." 

2  On  the  rapid  diffusion  during  the  present  century  of  the  principles  worked 
out  by  the  economists,  compare  Laing's  Sweden,  pp.  356-358,  with  a  note  to  the 
last  edition  of  Malthus  on  Population,  1826,  Vol.  II,  pp.  354,  355. 

3  "  The  feelings  of  rival  tradesmen,  prevailing  among  nations,  overruled  for  cen- 
turies all  sense  of  the  general  community  of  advantage  which  commercial  countries 
derive  from  the  prosperity  of  one  another ;  and  that  commercial  spirit,  which  is  now 


464  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

a  hundred  is  familiar  with  the  arguments  on  which  these  eco- 
nomical discoveries  are  founded,  that  does  not  prevent  the  effect 
which  the  discoveries  themselves  produce  on  his  own  mind.  The 
mercantile  class  is,  like  every  other,  acted  upon  by  causes  which 
only  a  few  members  of  that  class  are  able  to  perceive.  Thus, 
for  instance,  of  all  the  innumerable  opponents  of  protection, 
there  are  very  few  indeed  who  can  give  valid  reasons  to  justify 
their  opposition.  But  this  does  not  prevent  the  opposition  from 
taking  place.  For  an  immense  majority  of  men  always  follow 
with  implicit  submission  the  spirit  of  their  own  time  ;  and  the 
spirit  of  the  times  is  merely  its  knowledge,  and  the  direction  that 
knowledge  takes.  As,  in  the  ordinary  avocations  of  daily  life, 
every  one  is  benefited  in  the  increase  of  his  comforts  and  of  his 
general  security  by  the  progress  of  many  arts  and  sciences,  of 
which  perhaps  he  does  not  even  know  the  name,  just  so  is  the 
mercantile  class  benefited  by  those  great  economical  discoveries 
which,  in  the  course  of  two  generations,  have  already  effected  a 
complete  change  in  the  commercial  legislation  of  this  country, 
and  which  are  now  operating  slowly  but  steadily  upon  those 
other  European  states,  where,  public  opinion  being  less  powerful, 
it  is  more  difficult  to  establish  great  truths  and  extirpate  old 
abuses.  While,  therefore,  it  is  perfectly  true  that  among  mer- 
chants a  comparatively  small  number  are  acquainted  with  political 
economy,  it  is  not  the  less  true  that  they  owe  a  large  part  of 
their  wealth  to  the  political  economist,  who,  by  removing  the 
obstacles  with  which  the  ignorance  of  successive  governments 
had  impeded  trade,  have  now  settled  on  a  solid  foundation  that 
commercial  prosperity  which  is  by  no  means  the  least  of  our 
national  glories.  Most  assuredly  is  it  also  tr-ue  that  this  same 
intellectual  movement  has  lessened  the  chance  of  war  by  ascer- 
taining the  principles  which  ought  to  regulate  our  commercial 
relations  with  foreign  countries,  by  proving  not  only  the  inutility 

one  of  the  strongest  obstacles  to  wars,  was  during  a  certain  period  of  European 
history  their  principal  cause"  (Mill's  Political  Economy,  1849,  Vol.  II,  p.  221). 
This  great  change  in  the  feelings  of  the  commercial  classes  did  not  begin  before 
the  present  century,  and  has  not  been  visible  to  ordinary  observers  until  the  last 
five  and  twenty  or  thirty  years  ;  but  it  was  foretold  in  a  remarkable  passage  written 
by  Herder  in  1787 :  see  his  ideen  zur  Geschichte,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  292,  293. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    465 

but  the  positive  mischief  caused  by  interfering  with  them,  and 
finally,  by  exploding  those  long-established  errors  which,  inducing 
men  to  believe  that  nations  are  the  natural  enemies  of  each  other, 
encouraged  those  evil  feelings  and  fostered  those  national  jeal- 
ousies to  the  strength  of  which  the  military  spirit  owed  no  small 
share  of  its  former  influence. 

The  third  great  cause  by  which  the  love  of  war  has  been 
weakened  is  the  way  in  which  discoveries  respecting  the  appli- 
cation of  steam  to  the  purposes  of  traveling  have  facilitated 
the  intercourse  between  different  countries,  and  thus  aided  in 
destroying  that  ignorant  contempt  which  one  nation  is  too  apt 
to  feel  for  another.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  miserable  and  im- 
pudent falsehoods  which  a  large  class  of  English  writers  for- 
merly directed  against  the  morals  and  private  character  of  the 
French,  and,  to  their  shame  be  it  said,  even  against  the  chastity  of 
French  women,  tended  not  a  little  to  'embitter  the  angry  feel- 
ings then  existing  between  the  two  first  countries  of  Europe, 
irritating  the  English  against  French  vices,  irritating  the  French 
against  English  calumnies.  In  the  same  way  there  was  a  time 
when  every  honest  Englishman  firmly  believed  that  he  could 
beat  ten  Frenchmen,  —  a  class  of  beings  whom  he  held  in  sov- 
ereign contempt,  as  a  lean  and  stunted  race,  who  drank  claret 
instead  of  brandy,  who  lived  entirely  off  frogs ;  miserable  infi- 
dels, who  heard  mass  every  Sunday,  who  bowed  down  before 
idols,  and  who  even  worshiped  the  pope.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  French  were  taught  to  despise  us  as  rude,  unlettered  barba- 
rians, without  either  taste  or  humanity,  —  surly,  ill-conditioned 
men,  living  in  an  unhappy  climate  where  a  perpetual  fog,  only 
varied  by  rain,  prevented  the  sun  from  ever  being  seen,  suffer- 
ing from  so  deep  and  inveterate  a  melancholy  that  physicians 
had  called  it  the  English  spleen,  and  under  the  influence  of 
this  cruel  malady  constantly  committing  suicide,  particularly  in 
November,  when  we  were  well  known  to  hang  and  shoot  ourselves 
by  thousands.1 

1  That  there  are  more  suicides  in  gloomy  weather  than  in  fine  weather  used 
always  to  be  taken  for  granted,  and  was  a  favorite  topic  with  the  French  wits,  who 
were  never  weary  of  expatiating  on  our  love  of  self-murd***-  and  on  the  relation 


466  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Whoever  has  looked  much  into  the  older  literature  of  France 
and  England  knows  that  these  were  the  opinions  which  the  two 
first  nations  of  Europe,  in  the  ignorance  and  simplicity  of  their 
hearts,  held  respecting  each  other.  But  the  progress  of  improve- 
ment, by  bringing  the  two  countries  into  close  and  intimate  con- 
tact, has  dissipated  these  foolish  prejudices,  and  taught  each 
people  to  admire,  and,  what  is  still  more  important,  to  respect 
each  other.  And  the. greater  the  contact,  the  greater  the  respect. 
For  whatever  theologians  may  choose  to  assert,  it  is  certain  that 
mankind  at  large  has  far  more  virtue  than  vice,  and  that  in  every 
country  good  actions  are  more  frequent  than  bad  ones.  Indeed, 
if  this  were  otherwise,  the  preponderance  of  evil  would  long  since 
have  destroyed  the  human  race,  and  not  even  have  left  a  single 
man  to  lament  the  degeneracy  of  his  species.  An  additional  proof 
of  this  is  the  fact  that  the  more  nations  associate  with  each 
other,  and  the  more  they  see  and  know  of  their  fellow-creatures, 
the  more  quickly  do  ancient  enmities  disappear.  This  is  because 
an  enlarged  experience  proves  that  mankind  is  not  so  radically 
bad  as  we  from  our  infancy  are  taught  to  believe.  But  if  vices 
were  really  more  frequent  than  virtues,  the  result  would  be  that 
the  increasing  amalgamation  of  society  would  increase  our  bad 
opinion  of  others,  because  though  we  may  love  our  own  vices  we 
do  not  generally  love  the  vices  of  our  neighbors.  So  far,  how- 
ever, is  this  from  being  the  actual  consequence  that  it  has  always 
been  found  that  those  whose  extensive  knowledge  makes  them 
best  acquainted  with  the  general  course  of  human  actions  are 
precisely  those  who  take  the  most  favorable  view  of  them.  The 
greatest  observer  and  the  most  profound  thinker  is  invariably 
the  most  lenient  judge.  It  is  the  solitary  misanthrope,  brooding 
over  his  fancied  wrongs,  who  is  most  prone  to  depreciate  the 
good  qualities  of  our  nature  and  exaggerate  its  bad  ones.  Or  else 
it  is  some  foolish  and  ignorant  monk  who,  dreaming  away  his 

between  it  and  our  murky  climate.  Unfortunately  for  such  speculations,  the  fact 
is  exactly  opposite  to  what  is  generally  supposed,  and  we  have  decisive  evidence 
that  there  are  more  suicides  in  summer  than  in  winter.  See  Quetelet,  Sur  I'Momme, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  152,  158;  Tissot,  DelaManiedu  Suicide,  Paris,  1840,  pp.  50,  149,  150; 
Journal  of  Statistical  Society,  Vol.  I,  p.  102  ;  Winslow's  Anatomy  of  Suicide,  1840, 
pp.  131,  132  ;  Hawkins'  Medical  Statistics,  p.  170. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    467 

existence  in  an  idle  solitude,  flatters  his  own  vanity  by  denouncing 
the  vices  of  others,  and  thus  declaiming  against  the  enjoyments 
of  life  revenges  himself  on  that  society  from  which  by  his  own 
superstition  he  is  excluded.  These  are  the  sort  of  men  who 
insist  most  strongly  on  the  corruption  of  our  nature,  and  on  the 
degeneracy  into  which  we  have  fallen.  The  enormous  evil  which 
such  opinions  have  brought  about  is  well  understood  by  those 
who  have  studied  the  history  of  countries  in  which  they  are,  and 
have  been,  most  prevalent.  Hence  it  is  that  among  the  innu- 
merable benefits  derived  from  advancing  knowledge  there  are 
few  more  important  than  those  improved  facilities  of  communica- 
tion,1 which,  by  increasing  the  frequency  with  which  nations  and 
individuals  are  brought  into  contact,  have  to  an  extraordinary 
extent  corrected  their  prejudices,  raised  the  opinion  which  each 
forms  of  the  other,  diminished  their  mutual  hostility,  and,  thus 
diffusing  a  more  favorable  view  of  our  common  nature,  have 
stimulated  us  to  develop  those  boundless  resources  of  the  human 
understanding  the  very  existence  of  which  it  was  once  consid- 
ered almost  a  heresy  to  assert. 

This  is  precisely  what  has  occurred  in  modern  Europe.  The 
French  and  English  people  have,  by  the  mere  force  of  increased 
contact,  learned  to  think  more  favorably  of  each  other,  and  to 
discard  that  foolish  contempt  in  which  both  nations  formerly 
indulged.  In  this,  as  in  all  cases,  the  better  one  civilized  country 
is  acquainted  with  another,  the  more  it  will  find  to  respect  and 
to  imitate.  For  of  all  the  causes  of  national  hatred,  ignorance  is 
the  most  powerful.  When  you  increase"  the  contact  you  remove 
the  ignorance,  and  thus  you  diminish  the  hatred.2  This  is  the 

1  Respecting  which  I  will  only  mention  one  fact,  in  regard  to  our  own  country. 
By  the  returns  of  the  Board  of  Trade,  it  appears  that  the  passengers  annually 
traveling  by  railway  amounted  in  1842  to  nineteen  millions;  but  in  1852  they  had 
increased  to  more  than  eighty-six  millions  (Journal  of  Statistical  Society,  Vol. 
XVI,  p.  292). 

2  Of  this  Mr.  Stephens  (in  his  valuable  work,  Central  America,  Vol.  I,  pp.  247- 
248)  relates  an  interesting  instance  in  the  case  of  that  remarkable  man  Carrera : 
"  Indeed,  in  no  particular  had  he  changed  more  than  in  his  opinion  of  foreigners ;  a 
happy  illustration  of  the  effect  of  personal  intercourse  in  breaking  down  prejudices 
against  individuals  or  classes."    Mr.  Elphinstone  (History  of  India,  p.  195)  says, 
"  Those  who  have  known  the  Indians  longest  have  always  the  best  opinion  of 


468  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

true  bond  of  charity ;  and  it  is  worth  all  the  lessons  which  moral- 
ists and  divines  are  able  to  teach.  They  have  pursued  their  voca- 
tion for  centuries,  without  producing  the  least  effect  in  lessening 
the  frequency  of  war.  But  it  may  be  said,  without  the  slightest 
exaggeration,  that  every  new  railroad  which  is  laid  down,  and 
every  fresh  steamer  which  crosses  the  Channel,  are  additional 
guarantees  for  the  preservation  of  that  long  and  unbroken  peace 
which,  during  forty  years,  has  knit  together  the  fortunes  and 
the  interests  of  the  two  most  civilized  nations  of  the  earth. 

I  have  thus,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  will  permit,  endeavored 
to  indicate  the  causes  which  have  diminished  religious  perse- 
cution and  war,  — :  the  two  greatest  evils  with  which  men  have 
yet  contrived  to  afflict  their  fellow-creatures.  The  question  of 
the  decline  of  religious  persecution  I  have  only  briefly  noticed, 
because  it  will  be  more  fully  handled  in  a  subsequent  part  of 
this  volume.  Enough,  however,  has  been  advanced  to  prove  how 
essentially  it  is  an  intellectual  process,  and  how  little  good  can 
be  effected  on  this  subject  by  the  operation  of  moral  feelings. 
The  causes  of  the  decline  of  the  warlike  spirit  I  have  examined 
at  considerable  and,  perhaps  to  some  readers,  at  tedious  length ; 
and  the  result  of  that  examination  has  been,  that  the  decline 
is  owing  to  the  increase  of  the  intellectual  classes,  to  whom 
the  military  classes  are  necessarily  antagonistic.  In  pushing  the 
inquiry  a  little  deeper  we  have,  by  still  further  analysis,  ascer- 
tained the  existence  of  three  vast  though  subsidiary  causes  by 
which  the  general  movement  has  been  accelerated.  These  are 
the  invention  of  gunpowder,  the  discoveries  of  political  economy, 
and  the  discovery  of  improved  means  of  locomotion.  Such  are 
the  three  great  modes  or  channels  by  which  the  progress  of 
knowledge  has  weakened  the  old  warlike  spirit ;  and  the  way  in 
which  they  have  effected  this  has,  I  trust,  been  clearly  pointed 
out.  The  facts  and  arguments  which  I  have  brought  forward 
have,  I  can  conscientiously  say,  been  subjected  to  careful  and 

them  ;  but  this  is  rather  a  compliment  to  human  nature  than  to  them,  since  it 
is  true  of  every  other  people"  Compare  an  instructive  passage  in  Darwin's  Jour- 
nal of  Researches,  p.  421,  with  Burdach,  Traite  de  Physiologic  comme  Science 
d'Observation,  Vol.  II,  p.  61. 


COMPARISON  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LAWS    469 

repeated  scrutiny ;  and  I  am  quite  unable  to  see  on  what  pos- 
sible ground  their  accuracy  is  to  be  impugned.  That  they  will 
be  disagreeable  to  certain  classes,  I  am  well  aware ;  but  the 
unpleasantness  of  a  statement  is  hardly  to  be  considered  a  proof 
of  its  falsehood.  The  sources  from  which  the  evidence  has  been 
derived  are  fully  indicated ;  and  the  arguments,  I  hope,  fairly 
stated.  And  from  them  there  results  a  most  important  conclu- 
sion. From  them  we  are  bound  to  infer  that  the  two  oldest, 
greatest,  most  inveterate,  and  most  widely  spread  evils  which 
have  ever  been  known  are  constantly,  though  on  the  whole 
slowly,  diminishing ;  and  that  their  diminution  has  been  effected 
not  at  all  by  moral  feelings,  nor  by  moral  teachings,  but  solely  by 
the  activity  of  the  human  intellect,  and  by  the  inventions  and 
discoveries  which,  in  a  long  course  of  successive  ages,  man  has 
been  able  to  make. 

Since,  then,  in  the  two  most  important  phenomena  which  the 
progress  of  society  presents  the  moral  laws  have  been  steadily 
and  invariably  subordinate  to  the  intellectual  laws,  there  arises 
a  strong  presumption  that  in  inferior  matters  the  same  process 
has  been  followed.  To  prove  this  in  its  full  extent,  and  thus 
raise  the  presumption  to  an  absolute  certainty,  would  be  to  write 
not  an  introduction  to  history  but  the  history  itself.  The  reader 
must  therefore  be  satisfied  for  the  present  with  what,  I  am  con- 
scious, is  merely  an  approach  towards  demonstration;  and  the 
complete  demonstration  must  necessarily  be  reserved  for  the 
future  volumes  of  this  work,  in  which  I  pledge  myself  to  show 
that  the  progress  Europe  has  made  from  barbarism  to  civilization 
is  entirely  due  to  its  intellectual  activity ;  that  the  leading  coun- 
tries have  now,  for  some  centuries,  advanced  sufficiently  far  to 
shake  off  the  influence  of  those  physical  agencies  by  which  in 
an  earlier  state  their  career  might  have  been  troubled  ;  and  that 
although  the  moral  agencies  are  still  powerful,  and  still  cause 
occasional  disturbances,  these  are  but  aberrations  which,  if  we 
compare  long  periods  of  time,  balance  each  other,  and  thus  in 
the  total  amount  entirely  disappear.  So  that,  in  a  great  and  com- 
prehensive view,  the  changes  in  every  civilized  people  are,  in  their 
aggregate,  dependent  solely  on  three  things  :  first,  on  the  amount 


470  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  knowledge  possessed  by  their  ablest  men ;  secondly,  on  the 
direction  which  that  knowledge  takes,  that  is  to  say,  the  sort  of 
subjects  to  which  it  refers  ;  thirdly,  and  above  all,  on  the  extent 
to  which  the  knowledge  is  diffused,  and  the  freedom  with  which 
it  pervades  all  classes  of  society. 

These  are  the  three  great  movers  of  every  civilized  country ; 
and  although  their  operation  is  frequently  disturbed  by  the  vices 
or  the  virtues  of  powerful  individuals,  such  moral  feelings  correct 
each  other,  and  the  average  of  long  periods  remains  unaffected. 
Owing  to  causes  of  which  we  are  ignorant,  the  moral  qualities 
do,  no  doubt,  constantly  vary,  so  that  in  one  man,  or  perhaps 
even  in  one  generation,  there  will  be  an  excess  of  good  inten- 
tions, in  another  an  excess  of  bad  ones.  But  we  have  no  reason 
to  think  that  any  permanent  change  has  been  effected  in  the  pro- 
portion which  those  who  naturally  possess  good  intentions  bear  to 
those  in  whom  bad  ones  seem  to  be  inherent.  In  what  may  be 
called  the  innate  and  original  morals  of  mankind,  there  is,  so  far 
as  we  are  aware,  no  progress.  Of  the  different  passions  with 
which  we  are  born,  some  are  more  prevalent  at  one  time,  some 
at  another;  but  experience  teaches  us  that,  as  they  are  always 
antagonistic,  they  are  held  in  balance  by  the  force  of  their 
own  opposition.  The  activity  of  one  motive  is  corrected  by  the 
activity  of  another.  For  to  every  vice  there  is  a  correspond- 
ing virtue.  Cruelty  is  counteracted  by  benevolence,  sympathy  is 
excited  by  suffering,  the  injustice  of  some  provokes  the  charity 
of  others,  new  evils  are  met  by  new  remedies,  and  even  the 
most  enormous  offenses  that  have  ever  been  known  have  left 
behind  them  no  permanent  impression.  The  desolation  of  coun- 
tries and  the  slaughter  of  men  are  losses  which  never  fail  to  be 
repaired,  and  at  the  distance  of  a  few  centuries  every  vestige  of 
them  is  effaced.  The  gigantic  crimes  of  Alexander  or  Napoleon 
become  after  a  time  void  of  effect,  and  the  affairs  of  the  world 
return  to  their  former  level.  This  is  the  ebb  and  flow  of  history, 
the  perpetual  flux  to  which  by  the  laws  of  our  nature  we  are 
subject.  Above  all  this,  there  is  a  far  higher  movement ;  and  as 
the  tide  rolls  on,  now  advancing,  now  receding,  there  is,  amid 
its  endless  fluctuations,  one  thing,  and  one  alone,  which  endures 


471 

forever.  The  actions  of  bad  men  produce  only  temporary  evil, 
the  actions  of  good  men  only  temporary  good  ;  and  eventually 
the  good  and  the  evil  altogether  subside,  are  neutralized  by 
subsequent  generations,  absorbed  by  the  incessant  movement  of 
future  ages.  But  the  discoveries  of  great  men  never  leave  us ; 
they  are  immortal,  they  contain  those  eternal  truths  which  sur- 
vive the  shock  of  empires,  outlive  the  struggles  of  rival  creeds, 
and  witness  the  decay  of  successive  religions.  All  these  have 
their  different  measures  and  their  different  standards ;  one  set 
of  opinions  for  one  age,  another  set  for  another.  They  pass  away 
like  a  dream  ;  they  are  as  the  fabric  of  a  vision,  which  leaves  not 
a  track  behind.  The  discoveries  of  genius  alone  remain  :  it  is  to 
them  we  owe  all  that  we  now  have ;  they  are  for  all  ages  and  all 
times ;  never  young,  and  never  old,  they  bear  the  seeds  of  their 
own  life  ;  they  flow  on  in  a  perennial  and  undying  stream ;  they 
are  essentially  cumulative,  and  giving  birth  to  the  additions  which 
they  subsequently  receive,  they  thus  influence  the  most  distant 
posterity,  and  after  the  lapse  of  centuries  produce  more  effect 
than  they  were  able  to  do  even  at  the  moment  of  their  pro- 
mulgation. 


XVI 

SYMPATHY1 

How  selfish  soever  man  may  be  supposed,  there  are  evidently 
some  principles  in  his  nature  which  interest  him  in  the  fortunes 
of  others,  and  render  their  happiness  necessary  to  him,  though 
he  derives  nothing  from  it  except  the  pleasure  of  seeing  it.  Of 
this  kind  is  pity  or  compassion,  the  emotion  which  we  feel  for 
the  misery  of  others  when  we  either  see  it,  or  are  made  to  con- 
ceive it  in  a  very  lively  manner.  That  we  often  derive  sorrow 
from  the  sorrow  of  others  is  a  matter  of  fact  too  obvious  to 
require  any  instances  to  prove  it ;  for  this  sentiment,  like  all  the 
other  original  passions  of  human  nature,  is  by  no  means  confined 
to  the  virtuous  and  humane,  though  they  perhaps  may  feel  it 
with  the  most  exquisite  sensibility.  The  greatest  ruffian,  the 
most  hardened  violator  of  the  laws  of  society,  is  not  altogether 
without  it. 

As  we  have  no  immediate  experience  of  what  other  men  feel, 
we  can  form  no  ide'a  of  the  manner  in  which  they  are  affected 
but  by  conceiving  what  we  ourselves  should  feel  in  the  like  situa- 
tion. Though  our  brother  is  upon  the  rack,  as  long  as  we  our- 
selves are  at  our  ease,  our  senses  will  never  inform  us  of  what 
he  suffers.  They  never  did,  and  never  can,  carry  us  beyond  our 
own  person,  and  it  is  by  the  imagination  only  that  we  can  form 
any  conception  of  what  are  his  sensations.  Neither  can  that 
faculty  help  us  to  this  any  other  way  than  by  representing  to  us 
what  would  be  our  own,  if  we  were  in  his  case.  It  is  the  im- 
pressions of  our  own  senses  only,  not  those  of  his,  which  our 
imaginations  copy.  By  the  imagination  we  place  ourselves  in  his 
situation,  we  conceive  ourselves  enduring  all  the  same  torments, 
we  enter  as  it  were  into  his  body,  and  become  in  some  measure 
the  same  person  with  him,  and  thence  form  some  idea  of  his 

1  From  The  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  by  Adam  Smith,  chap.  L 

472 


SYMPATHY  473 

sensations,  and  even  feel  something  which,  though  weaker  in 
degree,  is  not  altogether  unlike  them.  His  agonies,  when  they 
are  thus  brought  home  to  ourselves,  when  we  have  thus  adopted 
and  made  them  our  own,  begin  at  last  to  affect  us,  and  we  then 
tremble  and  shudder  at  the  thought  of  what  he  feels.  For  as  to 
be  in  pain  or  distress  of  any  kind  excites  the  most  excessive  sor- 
row, so  to  conceive  or  to  imagine  that  we  are  in  it  excites  some 
degree  of  the  same  emotion,  in  proportion  to  the  vivacity  or  dull- 
ness of  the  conception. 

That  this  is  the  source  of  our  fellow-feeling  for  the  misery  of 
others,  that  it  is  by  changing  places  in  fancy  with  the  sufferer 
that  we  come  either  to  conceive  or  to  be  affected  by  what  he 
feels,  may  be  demonstrated  by  many  obvious  observations,  if  it 
should  not  be  thought  sufficiently  evident  of  itself.  When  we  see  a 
stroke  aimed  and  just  ready  to  fall  upon  the  leg  or  arm  of  another 
person  we  naturally  shrink  and  draw  back  our  own  leg  or  our  own 
arm  ;  and  when  it  does  fall  we  feel  it  in  some  measure,  and  are  hurt 
by  it  as  well  as  the  sufferer.  The  mob,  when  they  are  gazing  at 
a  dancer  on  the  slack  rope,  naturally  writhe  and  twist  and  balance 
their  own  bodies,  as  they  see  him  do,  and  as  they  feel  that  they 
themselves  must  do  if  in  his  situation.  Persons  of  delicate  fibers 
and  a  weak  constitution  of  body  complain  that  in  looking  on  the 
sores  and  ulcers  which  are  exposed  by  beggars  in  the  streets 
they  are  apt  to  feel  an  itching  or  uneasy  sensation  in  the  corre- 
sponding part  of  their  own  bodies.  The  horror  which  they  con- 
ceive at  the  misery  of  those  wretches  affects  that  particular  part 
in  themselves  more  than  any  other,  because  that  horror  arises 
from  conceiving  what  they  themselves  would  suffer  if  they  really 
were  the  wretches  whom  they  are  looking  upon,  and  if  that  par- 
ticular part  in  themselves  was  actually  affected  in  the'  same 
miserable  manner.  The  very  force  of  this  conception  is  sufficient, 
in  their  feeble  frames,  to  produce  that  itching  or  uneasy  sensa- 
tion complained  of.  Men  of  the  most  robust  make  observe  that 
in  looking  upon  sore  eyes  they  often  feel  a  very  sensible  sore- 
ness in  their  own,  which  proceeds  from  the  same  reason,  that 
organ  being  in  the  strongest  man  more  delicate  than  any  other 
part  of  the  body  is  in  the  weakest. 


474  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Neither  is  it  those  circumstances  only  which  create  pain  or 
sorrow  that  call  forth  our  fellow-feeling.  Whatever  is  the  pas- 
sion which  arises  from  any  object  in  the  person  principally  con- 
cerned, an  analogous  emotion  springs  up,  at  the  thought  of  his 
situation,  in  the  breast  of  every  attentive  spectator.  Our  joy  for 
the  deliverance  of  those  heroes  of  tragedy  or  romance  who  inter- 
est us  is  as  sincere  as  our  grief  for  their  distress,  and  our  fellow- 
feeling  with  their  misery  is  not  more  real  than  that  with  their 
happiness.  We  enter  into  their  gratitude  towards  those  faithful 
friends  who  did  not  desert  them  in  their  difficulties  ;  and  \ve 
heartily  go  along  with  their  resentment  against  those  perfidious 
traitors  who  injured,  abandoned,  or  deceived  them.  In  every  pas- 
sion of  which  the  mind  of  man  is  susceptible,  the  emotions  of 
the  bystander  always  correspond  to  what,  by  bringing  the  case 
home  to  himself,  he  imagines  would  be  the  sentiments  of  the 
sufferer. 

Pity  and  compassion  are  words  appropriated  to  signify  our 
fellow-feeling  with  the  sorrow  of  others.  Sympathy,  though  its 
meaning  was,  perhaps,  originally  the  same,  may  now,  however, 
without  much  impropriety,  be  made  use  of  to  denote  our  fellow- 
feeling  with  any  passion  whatever. 

Upon  some  occasions  sympathy  may  seem  to  arise  merely  from 
the  view  of  a  certain  emotion  in  another  person.  The1  passions, 
upon  some  occasions,  may  seem  to  be  transfused  from  one  man 
to  another,  instantaneously,  and  antecedent  to  any  knowledge 
of  what  excited  them  in  the  person  principally  concerned.  Grief 
and  joy,  for  example,  strongly  expressed  in  the  look  and  gestures 
of  any  person,  at  once  affect  the  spectator  with  some  degree  of 
a  like  painful  or  agreeable  emotion.  A  smiling  face  is,  to  every- 
body that  sees  it,  a  cheerful  object ;  as  a  sorrowful  countenance, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  a  melancholy  one. 

This,  however,  does  not  hold  universally,  or  with  regard  to 
every  passion.  There  are  some  passions  of  which  the  expressions 
excite  no  sort  of  sympathy,  but  before  we  are  acquainted  with 
what  gave  occasion  to  them  serve  rather  to  disgust  and  provoke 
us  against  them.  The  furious  behavior  of  an  angry  man  is  more 
likely  to  exasperate  us  against  himself  than  against  his  enemies. 


SYMPATHY  475 

As  we  are  unacquainted  with  his  provocation,  we  cannot  bring 
his  case  home  to  ourselves,  nor  conceive  anything  like  the  pas- 
sions which  it  excites.  But  we  plainly  see  what  is  the  situation 
of  those  with  whom  he  is  angry,  and  to  what  violence  they  may 
be  exposed  from  so  enraged  an  adversary.  We  therefore  readily 
sympathize  with  their  fear  or  resentment,  and  are  immediately 
disposed  to  take  part  against  the  man  from  whom  they  appear 
to  be  in  danger. 

If  the  very  appearances  of  grief  and  joy  inspire  us  with  some 
degree  of  the  like  emotions,  it  is  because  they  suggest  to  us  the 
general  idea  of  some  good  or  bad  fortune  that  has  befallen  the 
person  in  whom  we  observe  them  ;  and  in  these  passions  this  is 
sufficient  to  have  some  little  influence  upon  us.  The  effects  of 
grief  and  joy  terminate  in  the  person  who  feels  those  emotions, 
of  which  the  expressions  do  not,  like  those  of  resentment,  suggest 
to  us  the  idea  of  any  other  person  for  whom  we  are  concerned, 
and  whose  interests  are  opposite  to  his.  The  general  idea  of 
good  or  bad  fortune,  therefore,  creates  some  concern  for  the  per- 
son who  has  met  with  it,  but  the  general  idea  of  provocation 
excites  no  sympathy  with  the  anger  of  the  man  who  has  received 
it.  Nature,  it  seems,  teaches  us  to  be  more  averse  to  enter  into 
this  passion,  and  till  informed  of  its  cause  to  be  disposed  rather 
to  take  part  against  it. 

Even  our  sympathy  with  the  grief  or  joy  of  another  before  we 
are  informed  of  the  cause  of  either  is  always  extremely  imperfect. 
General  lamentations,  which  express  nothing  but  the  anguish  of 
the  sufferer,  create  rather  a  curiosity  to  inquire  into  his  situation, 
along  with  some  disposition  to  sympathize  with  him,  than  any 
actual  sympathy  that  is  very  sensible.  The  first  question  which 
we  ask  is,  What  has  befallen  you  ?  Till  this  be  answered,  though 
we  are  uneasy  both  from  the  vague  idea  of  his  misfortune,  and 
still  more  from  torturing  ourselves  with  conjectures  about  what 
it  may  be,  our  fellow-feeling  is  not  very  considerable. 

Sympathy,  therefore,  does  not  arise  so  much  from  the  view  of 
the  passion  as  from  that  of  the  situation  which  excites  it.  We 
sometimes  feel  for  another  a  passion,  of  which  he  himself  seems 
to  be  altogether  incapable,  because  when  we  put  ourselves  in 


476  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

his  case  that  passion  arises  in  our  breast  from  the  imagination, 
though  it  does  not  in  his  from  the  reality.  We  blush  for  the 
impudence  and  rudeness  of  another,  though  he  himself  appears 
to  have  no  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  his  own  behavior,  because 
we  cannot  help  feeling  with  what  confusion  we  ourselves  should 
be  covered  had  we  behaved  in  so  absurd  a  manner. 

Of  all  the  calamities  to  which  the  condition  of  mortality  ex- 
poses mankind,  the  loss  of  reason  appears,  to  those  who  have  the 
least  spark  of  humanity,  by  far  the  most  dreadful ;  and  they 
behold  that  last  stage  of  human  wretchedness  with  deeper  com- 
miseration than  any  other.  But  the  poor  wretch  who  is  in  it 
laughs  and  sings,  perhaps,  and  is  altogether  insensible  of  his 
own  misery.  The  anguish  which  humanity  feels,  therefore,  at  the 
sight  of  such  an  object  cannot  be  the  reflection  of  any  sentiment 
of  the  sufferer.  The  compassion  of  the  spectator  must  arise  alto- 
gether from  the  consideration  of  what  he  himself  would  feel  if 
he  were  reduced  to  the  same  unhappy  situation,  and,  what  per- 
haps is  impossible,  were  at  the  same  time  able  to  regard  it  with 
his  present  reason  and  judgment. 

What  are  the  pangs  of  a  mother  when  she  hears  the  moanings 
of  her  infant  that  during  the  agony  of  disease  cannot  express 
what  it  feels  ?  In  her  idea  of  what  it  suffers,  she  joins  to  its 
real  helplessness  her  own  consciousness  of  that  helplessness  and 
her  own  terrors  for  the  unknown  consequences  of  its  disorder ; 
and  out  of  all  these,  she  forms  for  her  own  sorrow  the  most  com- 
plete image  of  misery  and  distress.  The  infant,  however,  feels 
only  the  uneasiness  of  the  present  instant,  which  can  never  be 
great.  With  regard  to  the  future,  it  is  perfectly  secure,  and  in 
its  thoughtlessness  and  want  of  foresight,  it  possesses  an  anti- 
dote against  fear  and  anxiety,  —  the  great  tormentors  of  the 
human  breast,  —  from  which  reason  and  philosophy  will,  in  vain, 
attempt  to  defend  it  when  it  grows  up  to  be  a  man. 

We  sympathize  even  with  the  dead,  and  overlooking  what  is 
of  real  importance  in  their  situation,  that  awful  futurity  which 
awaits  them,  we  are  chiefly  affected  by  those  circumstances 
which  strike  our  senses,  but  can  have  no  influence  upon  their 
happiness.  It  is  miserable,  we  think,  to  be  deprived  of  the  light 


SYMPATHY 


477 


of  the  sun,  to  be  shut  out  from  life  and  conversation,  to  be  laid 
in  the  cold  grave  a  prey  to  corruption  and  the  reptiles  of  the 
earth,  to  be  no  more  thought  of  in  this  world  but  to  be  obliter- 
ated in  a  little  time  from  the  affections,  and  almost  from  the 
memory,  of  their  dearest  friends  and  relations.  Surely  we  imagine 
we  can  never  feel  too  much  for  those  who  have  suffered  so 
dreadful  a  calamity.  The  tribute  of  our  fellow-feeling  seems 
doubly  due  to  them  now  when  they  are  in  danger  of  being  for- 
gotten by  everybody;  and  by  the  vain  honors  which  we  pay  to 
their  memory,  we  endeavor  for  our  own  misery  artificially  to  keep 
alive  our  melancholy  remembrance  of  their  misfortune.  That 
our  sympathy  can  afford  them  no  consolation  seems  to  be  an 
addition  to  their  calamity;  and  to  think  that  all  we  can  do  is  un- 
availing, and  that  what  alleviates  all  other  distress  —  the  regret, 
the  love,  and  the  lamentations  of  their  friends — can  yield  no  com- 
fort to  them  serves  only  to  exasperate  our  sense  of  their  misery. 
The  happiness  of  the  dead,  however,  most  assuredly  is  affected 
by  none  of  these  circumstances,  nor  is  it  the  thought  of  these 
things  which  can  ever  disturb  the  profound  security  of  their 
repose.  The  idea  of  that  dreary  and  endless  melancholy  which 
the  fancy  naturally  ascribes  to  their  condition  arises  altogether 
from  our  joining  to  the  change,  which  has  been  produced  upon 
them,  our  own  consciousness  of  that  change,  from  our  putting 
ourselves  in  their  situation,  and  from  our  lodging,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  say  so,  our  own  living  souls  in  their  inanimate  bodies, 
and  thence  conceiving  what  would  be  our  emotions  in  this  case. 
It  is  from  this  very  illusion  of  the  imagination  that  the  foresight 
of  our  own  dissolution  is  so  terrible  to  us,  and  that  the  idea  of 
those  circumstances,  which  undoubtedly  can  give  us  no  pain  when 
we  are  dead,  makes  us  miserable  while  we  are  alive.  And  from 
thence  arises  one  of  the  most  important  principles  in  human 
nature,  the  dread  of  death,  the  great  poison  to  the  happiness,  but 
the  great  restraint  upon  the  injustice  of  mankind,  which,  while 
it  afflicts  and  mortifies  the  individual,  guards  and  protects  the 
society. 


XVII 

FORESIGHT1 

In  the  advance  to  high  stages  of  civilization,  the  extension  of 
the  correspondence  in  time  is  most  conspicuously  exemplified  in 
the  habitual  adjustment  of  our  theories  and  actions  to  sequences 
more  or  less  remote  in  the  future.  In  no  other  respect  is  civilized 
man  more  strikingly  distinguished  from  the  barbarian  than  in  his 
power  to  adapt  his  conduct  to  future  events,  whether  contingent 
or  certain  to  occur.  The  ability  to  forego  present  enjoyment  in 
order  to  avoid  the  risk  of  future  disaster  is  what  we  call  prudence 
or  providence ;  and  the  barbarian  is  above  all  things  imprudent 
and  improvident.  Doubtless  the  superior  prudence  of  the  civi- 
lized man  is  due  in  great  part  to  his  superior  power  of  self-restraint, 
so  that  this  class  of  phenomena  may  be  regarded  as  illustrating 
one  of  the  phases  of  moral  progress.  Nevertheless,  there  are 
several  purely  intellectual  elements  which  enter  as  important 
factors  into  the  case.  The  power  of  economizing  in  harvest  time 
or  in  youth,  in  order  to  retain  something  upon  which  to  live  com- 
fortably in  winter  or  in  old  age,  is  obviously  dependent  upon  the 
vividness  with  which  distant  sets  of  circumstances  can  be  pictured 
in  the  imagination.  The  direction  of  the  volitions  involved  in  the 
power  of  self-restraint  must  be  to  a  great  extent  determined  by 
the  comparative  vividness  with  which  the  distant  circumstances 
and  the  present  circumstances  are  mentally  realized.  And  the 
power  of  distinctly  imagining  objective  relations  not  present  to 
sense  is  probably  the  most  fundamental  of  the  many  intellectual 
differences  between  the  civilized  man  and  the  barbarian,  since  it 
underlies  both  the  class  of  phenomena  which  we  are  now  con- 
sidering, and  the  class  of  phenomena  comprised  in  artistic,  scien- 
tific, and  philosophic  progress.  The  savage,  with  his  small  and 

1  From  Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy,  by  John  Fiske,  Part  II,  chap,  xxi, 
pp.  303-306  (copyright,  1874).  By  permission  of  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.) 

478 


FORESIGHT  479 

undeveloped  cerebrum,  plays  all  summer,  like  the  grasshopper  in 
the  fable,  eating  and  wasting  whatever  he  can  get ;  for  although 
he  knows  that  the  dreaded  winter  is  coming,  during  which  he 
must  starve  and  shiver,  he  is  nevertheless  unable  to  realize  these 
distant  feelings  with  sufficient  force  to  determine  his  volition  in 
the  presence  of  his  actual  feeling  of  repugnance  to  toil.  But  the 
civilized  man,  with  his  large  and  complex  cerebrum,  has  so  keen 
a  sense  of  remote  contingencies  that  he  willingly  submits  to  long 
years  of  drudgery  in  order  to  avoid  poverty  in  old  age,  pays  out 
each  year  a  portion  of  his  hard-earned  money  to  provide  for 
losses  by  fire  which  may  never  occur,  builds  houses  and  accumu- 
lates fortunes  for  posterity  to  enjoy,  and  now  and  then  enacts 
laws  to  forestall  possible  disturbances  or  usurpations  a  century 
hence.  Again,  the  progress  of  scientific  knowledge,  familiarizing 
civilized  man  with  the  idea  of  an  inexorable  regularity  of  sequence 
among  events,  greatly  assists  him  in  the  adjustment  of  his  actions 
to  far-distant  emergencies.  He  who  ascribes  certain  kinds  of 
suffering  to  antecedent  neglect  of  natural  laws  is  more  likely  to 
shape  his  conduct  so  as  to  avoid  a  recurrence  of  the  infliction 
than  he  who  attributes  the  same  kinds  of  suffering  to  the  wrath 
of  an  offended  quasi-human  Deity  and  fondly  hopes  by  ceremonial 
propitiation  of  the  Deity  to  escape  in  future. 

This  power  of  shaping  actions  so  as  to  meet  future  contin- 
gencies has  been  justly  recognized  by  political  economists  as  an 
indispensable  prerequisite  to  the  accumulation  of  wealth  in  any 
community,  without  which  no  considerable  degree  of  progress 
can  be  attained.  The  impossibility  of  getting  barbarians  to  work, 
save  under  the  stimulus  of  actually  present  necessities,  has  been 
one  of  the  chief  obstacles  in  the  way  of  missionaries  who  have 
attempted  to  civilize  tribal  communities.  The  Jesuits,  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  were  the  most  successful  of  Christian  missiona- 
ries, and  their  proceedings  with  the  Indians  of  Paraguay  constitute 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  feats  in  missionary  annals.  Neverthe- 
less, the  superficiality  of  all  this  show  of  civilization  was  illus- 
trated by  the  fact  that  unless  perpetually  watched  the  workmen 
would  go  home  leaving  their  oxen  yoked  to  the  plow,  or  would 
even  cut  them  up  for  supper  if  no  other  meat  happened  to  be  at 


480  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

hand.  Examples  of  a  state  of  things  intermediate  between  this 
barbaric  improvidence  and  the  care-taking  foresight  of  the  Euro- 
pean are  to  be  found  among  the  Chinese,  —  a  people  who  have 
risen  far  above  barbarism,  but  whose  civilization  is  still  of  a 
primitive  type.  The  illustration  is  rendered  peculiarly  forcible 
by  the  fact  that  the  Chinese  are  a  very  industrious  people,  and 
where  the  returns  for  labor  are  immediate  will  work  as  steadily 
as  Germans  or  Americans.  Owing  to  their  crowded  population, 
every  rood  of  ground  is  needed  for  cultivation,  and  upon  their 
great  rivers  the  traveler  continually  meets  with  little  floating 
farms,  constructed  upon  rafts  and  held  in  place  by  anchors. 
Yet  side  by  side  with  these  elaborate  but  fragile  structures  are 
to  be  seen  acres  of  swamp  land,  which  only  need  a  few  years  of 
careful  draining  to  become  permanently  fit  for  tillage.  So  inca- 
pable are  the  Chinese  of  adapting  their  actions  to  sequences  at 
all  remote,  that  they  continue,  age  after  age,  to  resort  to  such 
temporary  devices  rather  than  to  bestow  their  labor  where  its 
fruits,  however  enduring,  cannot  be  enjoyed  from  the  outset. 
The  contrast  proves  that  the  cause  is  the  intellectual  inability 
to  realize  vividly  a  group  of  future  conditions  involving  benefits 
not  immediately  to  be  felt. 

Of  the  correspondence  in  time,  even  more  forcibly  than  of  the 
correspondence  in  space,  it  may  be  said  that  its  extension  during 
the  process  of  social  evolution  has  been  much  greater  than  during 
the  organic  evolution  of  the  human  race  from  some  ancestral 
primate.  Between  the  Australian,  on  the  one  hand,  who  cannot 
estimate  the  length  of  a  month,  or  provide  even  for  certain  dis- 
aster which  does  not  stare  him  in  the  face,  and  whose  theory 
of  things  is  adapted  only  to  events  which  occur  during  his  own 
lifetime,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  European,  with  his  practical 
foresight,  his  elaborate  scientific  previsions,  and  his  systems  of 
philosophy,  which  embrace  alike  the  earliest  traceable  cosmical 
changes  and  the  latest  results  of  civilization,  the  intellectual  gulf 
is  certainly  far  wider  than  that  which  divides  the  Australian 
from  the  fox,  who  hides  the  bird  which  he  has  killed  in  order  to 
return  when  hungry  to  eat  it. 


XVIII 

THE  FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  IN  THE 
EVOLUTION  OF  SOCIETY1 

Since  science  first  seriously  directed  her  attention  to  the  study 
of  social  phenomena,  the  interest  of  workers  has  been  arrested 
by  the  striking  resemblances  between  the  life  of  society  and  that 
of  organic  growths  in  general.  We  have,  accordingly,  had  many 
elaborate  parallels  drawn  by  various  scientific  writers  between 
the  two,  and  "the  social  organism"  has  become  a  familiar  ex- 
pression in  -a  certain  class  of  literature.  It  must  be  confessed, 
however,  that  these  comparisons  have  been,  so  far,  neither  as 
fruitful  nor  as  suggestive  as  might  naturally  have  been  expected. 
The  generalizations  and  abstractions  to  which  they  have  led, 
even  in  the  hands  of  so  original  a  thinker  as  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer,  are  often,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  forced  and  unsat- 
isfactory ;  and  it  may  be  fairly  said  that  a  field  of  inquiry  which 
looked  at  the  outset  in  the  highest  degree  promising  has,  on  the 
whole,  proved  disappointing. 

Yet  that  there  is  some  analogy  between  the  social  life  and 
organic  life  in  general,  history  and  experience  most  undoubtedly 
suggest.  The  pages  of  the  historian  seem  to  be  filled  with  pic- 
tures of  organic  life,  over  the  moving  details  of  which  the  biolo- 
gist instinctively  lingers.  We  see  social  systems  born  in  silence 
and  obscurity.  They  develop  beneath  our  eyes.  They  make 
progress  until  they  exhibit  a  certain  maximum  vitality.  They 
gradually  decline,  and  finally  disappear,  having  presented  in  the 
various  stages  certain  well-marked  phases  which  invariably  ac- 
company the  development  and  dissolution  of  organic  life  where- 
soever encountered.  It  may  be  observed,  too,  that  this  idea  of 
the  life,  growth,  and  decline  of  peoples  is  deeply  rooted.  It  is 

1  From  Social  Evolution,  by  Benjamin  Kidd,  chap,  v ;  Macmillan  &  Co.,  Lon- 
don and  New  York,  1895. 

481 


482  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

always  present  in  the  mind  of  the  historian.  It  is  to  be  met 
with  continually  in  general  literature.  The  popular  imagination 
is  affected  by  it.  It  finds  constant  expression  in  the  utterances 
of  public  speakers  and  of  writers  in  the  daily  press,  who,  ever 
and  anon,  remind  us  that  our  national  life,  or,  it  may  be,  the 
life  of  our  civilization,  must  reach,  if  it  has  not  already  reached, 
its  stage  of  maximum  development,  and  that  it  must  decline 
like  others  which  have  preceded  it.  That  social  systems  are 
endowed  with  a  definite  principle  of  life  seems  to  be  taken  for 
granted.  Yet :  What  is  this  principle  ?  Where  has  it  its  seat  ? 
What  are  the  laws  which  control  the  development  and  decline 
of  those  so-called  organic  growths  ?  Nay,  more  :  What  is  the 
social  organism  itself  ?  Is  it  the  political  organization  of  which 
we  form  part  ?  Or  is  it  the  race  to  which  we  belong  ?  Is  it  our 
civilization  in  general  ?  Or,  is  it,  as  some  writers  would  seem  to 
imply,  the  whole  human  family  in  process  of  evolution  ?  It 
must  be  confessed  that  the  literature  of  our  time  furnishes  no 
satisfactory  answers  to  a  large  class  of  questions  of  this  kind. 

It  is  evident  that  if  we  are  ever  to  lay  broadly  and  firmly 
the  foundations  of  a  science  of  human  society,  there  is  one 
point  above  others  at  which  attention  must  be  concentrated. 
The  distinguishing  feature  of  human  history  is  the  social  de- 
velopment the  race  is  undergoing.  But  the  characteristic  and 
exceptional  feature  of  this  development  is  the  relationship  of  the 
individual  to  society.  We  have  seen  in  the  preceding  chapters 
that  fundamental  organic  conditions  of  life  render  the  progress 
of  the  race  possible  only  under  conditions  which  have  never  had, 
and  which  have  not  now,  any  sanction  from  the  reason  of  a 
great  proportion  of  the  individuals  who  submit  to  them.  The 
interests  of  the  individual  and  those  of  the  social  organism,  in 
the  evolution  which  is  proceeding,  are  not  either  identical  or 
capable  of  being  reconciled,  as  has  been  necessarily  assumed  in 
all  those  systems  of  ethics  which  have  sought  to  establish  a 
rational  sanction  for  individual  conduct.  The  two  are  funda- 
mentally and  inherently  irreconcilable,  and  a  large  proportion 
of  the  existing  individuals  a*  any  time  have,  as  we  saw,  no  per- 
sonal interest  whatever  in  this  progress  of  the  race,  or  in  the 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  483 

social  development  we  are  undergoing.  Strange  to  say,  however, 
man's  reason,  which  has  apparently  given  him  power  to  suspend 
the  onerous  conditions  to  which  he  is  subject,  has  never  pro- 
duced their  suspension.  His  development  has  continued  with 
unabated  pace  throughout  history,  and  it  is  in  full  progress 
under  our  eyes. 

The  pregnant  question  with  which  we  found  ourselves  con- 
fronted was,  therefore :  What  has  then  become  of  human 
reason  ?  It  would  appear  that  the  answer  has,  in  effect,  been 
given.  The  central  feature  of  human  history,  the  meaning  of 
which  neither  science  nor  philosophy  has  hitherto  fully  recog- 
nized, is,  apparently,  the  struggle  which  man,  throughout  the 
whole  period  of  his  social  development,  has  carried  on  to  effect 
the  subordination  of  his  own  reason.  Tlhe^mptive  power  in  this 
struggle  has  undoubtedly  been  supplied  by  his  religious  beliefs. 
Theconclusion  towards  which  we  seem  to  be  carried  is,  there- 
fore, that  the  function  of  these  beliefs  in  human  evolution  must 
be  to  provide  a  super-rational  sanction  for  that  large  class  of 
conduct  in  the  individual  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
development  which  is  proceeding,  but  for  which  there  can  never 
be,  in  the  nature  of  things,  any  rational  sanction. 

The  fact  has  been  already  noticed  that  evolutionary  science 
is  likely  in  our  day  to  justify,  as  against  the  teaching  of  past 
schools  of  thought,  one  of  the  deepest  and  most  characteristic 
of  social  instincts,  viz.,  that  which  has  consistently  held  the 
theories  of  that  large  group  of  philosophical  writers  who  have 
aimed  at  establishing  a  rational  sanction  for  individual  conduct 
in  society  —  a  school  which  may  be  said  to  have  culminated  in 
England  in  "  utilitarianism  "  — as  being  on  the  whole  (to  quote 
the  words  of  Mr.  Lecky)  "  profoundly  immoral."  1  It  would 
appear  that  science  must  in  the  end  also  justify  another  instinct 
equally  general,  and  also  in  direct  opposition  to  a  widely  preva- 
lent intellectual  conception  which  is  characteristic  of  our  time. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  more 
particularly  since  Comte  published  his  Philosophic  Positive,  an 
increasingly  large  number  of  minds  in  France,  Germany,  and 

1  History  of  European  Morals,  Vol.  I,  pp.  2,  3. 


484  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

England  (not  necessarily,  or  even  chiefly,  those  adhering  to 
Comte's  general  views)  have  questioned  the  essentiality  of  the 
supernatural  element  in  religious  beliefs.  In  England  a  large  lit- 
erature has  gradually  arisen  on  the  subject ;  and  the  vogue  of 
books  like  Natural  Religion,  attributed  to  Professor  J.  R.  Seeley, 
and  others  in  which  the  subject  has  been  approached  from  dif- 
ferent standpoints,  has  testified  to  the  interest  which  this  view 
has  excited.  j?tiarge  and  growing  intellectual  party  in  our  midst 
hold,  in  fact,  the  belief  that  the  religion  of  the  future  must  be 
"one  from  which  the  super-rational  element  is  eliflai»atedJ 

Now,  if  we  have  been  right  so  far,  it  would  appear  that  one 
of  the  first  results  of  the  application  of  the  methods  and  conclu- 
sions of  biological  science  to  human  society  must  be  to  render 
it  clear  that  the  advocates  of  these  views,  like  the  adherents  of 
that  larger  school  of  thought  which  has  sought  to  find  a  rational 
basis  for  individual  conduct  in  society,  are  in  pursuit  of  some- 
thing which  can  never  exist.  There  can  never  be,  it  would  ap- 
pear, such  a  thing  as  a  rational  religion.  The  essential  element 
in  all  religious  beliefs  must  apparently  be  the  w//ra-rational 
sanction  which  they  provide  for  social  conduct.  When  the  fun- 
damental nature  of  the  problem  involved  in  our  social  evolution 
is  understood,  it  must  become  clear  that  that  general  instinct 
which  may  be  distinguished  in  the  minds  of  men  around  us  is  in 
the  main  correct,  and  that 

No  form  of  belief  is  capable  of  functioning  as  a  religion  in  the 
evolution  of  society  which  does  not  provide  an  ultra-rational  sanc- 
tion for  social  condtict  in  the  individual. 

In  other  words  : 

A  rational  religion  is  a  scientific  impossibility,  representing 
from  the  nature  of  the  case  an  inherent  contradiction  of  terms. 

The  significance  of  this  conclusion  will  become  evident  as  we 
proceed.  It  opens  up  a  new  and  almost  unexplored  territory.  We 
come,  it  would  appear,  in  sight  of  the  explanation  why  science, 
if  social  systems  are  organic  growths,  has  hitherto  failed  to 
enunciate  the  laws  of  their  development,  and  has  accordingly 
left  us  almost  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
developmental  forces  and  tendencies  at  work  beneath  the  varied 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  485 

and  complex  political  and  social  phenomena  of  our  time.  The 
social  system  which  constitutes  an  organic  growth,  endowed 
with  a  definite  principle  of  life,  and  unfolding  itself  in  obedi- 
ence to  laws  which  may  be  made  the  subject  of  exact  study, 
is  something  quite  different  from  that  we  have  hitherto  had 
vaguely  in  mind.  It  is  not  the  political  organization  of  which 
we  form  part ;  it  is  not  the  race  to  which  we  belong ;  it  is  not 
even  the  whole  human  family  in  process  of  evolution.  The 
organic  growth,  it  would  appear,  must  be  the  social  system  or 
type  of  civilization  founded  on  a  form  of  religious  belief.  This 
is  the  organism  which  is  the  seat  of  a  definite  principle  of  life. 
Throughout  its  existence  there  is  maintained  within  it  a  conflict 
of  two  opposing  forces  ;  the  disintegrating  principle  represented 
by  the  rational  self-assertiveness  of  the  individual  units ;  the 
integrating  principle  represented  by  a  religious  belief  providing 
a  sanction  for  social  conduct  which  is  always  of  necessity  ultra- 
rational,  and  the  function  of  which  is  to  secure  in  the  stress 
of  evolution  the  continual  subordination  of  the  interests  of  the 
individual  units  to  the  larger  interests  of  the  longer-lived  social 
organism  to  which  they  belong.  It  is,  it  would  appear,  primarily 
through  these  social  systems  that  natural  selection  must  reach 
and  act  upon  the  race.  It  is  from  the  ethical  systems  upon 
which  they  are  founded  that  the  resulting  types  of  civilization 
receive  those  specific  characteristics  which,  in  the  struggle  for 
existence,  influence  in  a  preponderating  degree  the  peoples 
affected  by  them.  It  is  in  these  ethical  systems,  founded  on 
super-rational  sanctions,  and  in  the  developments  which  they 
undergo,  that  we  have  the  seat  of  a  vast  series  of  vital  phe- 
nomena unfolding  themselves  under  the  control  of  definite  laws 
which  may  be  made  the  subject  of  study.  The  scientific  in- 
vestigation of  these  phenomena  is  capable,  as  we  shall  see,  of 
throwing  a  flood  of  light  not  only  upon  the  life  history  of  our 
Western  civilization  in  general  but  upon  the  nature  of  the 
developmental  forces  underlying  the  complex  social  and  political 
movements  actually  in  progress  in  the  world  around  us. 

But  before  following  up  this  line  of  inquiry,  let  us  see  if  the 
conclusion  to  which  we  have  been  led  respecting  the  nature  of 


486  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  element  common  to  all  religious  beliefs  can  be  justified  when 
it  is  confronted  with  actual  facts.  Are  we  thus,  it  may  be 
asked,  able  to  unearth  from  beneath  the  enormous  overgrowth 
of  discussion  and  controversy  to  which  this  subject  has  given 
rise,  the  essential  element  in  all  religions,  and  to  lay  down  a 
simple,  but  clear  and  concise  principle  upon  which  science  may 
in  future  proceed  in  dealing  with  the  religious  phenomena  of 
mankind  ? 

It  is  evident,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  our  definition  of 
a  religion,  in  the  sense  in  which  alone  science  is  concerned 
with  religion  as  a  social  phenomenon,  must  run  somewhat  as 
follows  : 

A  religion  is  a  form  of  belief,  providing  an  ultra-rational  sanc- 
tion for  that  large  class  of  conduct  in  the  individual  where  his 
interests  and  the  interests  of  the  social  organism  are  antagonistic, 
and  by  which  the  former  are  rendered  subordinate  to  the  latter  in 
the  general  interests  of  the  evolution  which  the  race  is  undergoing. 

We  have  here  the  principle  at  the  base  of  all  religions.  Any 
religion  is,  of  course,  more  than  this  to  its  adherents ;  for  it 
must  necessarily  maintain  itself  by  what  is  often  a  vast  system 
of  beliefs  and  ordinances  requiring  acts  and  observances  which 
only  indirectly  contribute  to  the  end  in  question,  by  assisting 
to  uphold  the  principles  of  the  religion.  It  is  these  which  tend 
to  confuse  the  minds  of  many  observers.  With  them  we  are 
not  here  concerned ;  they  more  properly  fall  under  the  head  of 
theology. 

Let  us  see,  therefore,  if  this  element  of  a  super-rational  sanc- 
tion for  conduct  has  been  the  characteristic  feature  of  all  reli- 
gions, from  those  which  have  influenced  men  in  a  state  of  low 
social  development  up  to  those  which  now  play  so  large  a  part 
in  the  life  of  highly  civilized  peoples ;  whether,  despite  recent 
theories  to  the  contrary,  there  is  to  be  discerned  no  tendency 
in  those  beliefs  which  are  obviously  still  influencing  large  num- 
bers of  persons  to  eliminate  it. 

Beginning  with  man  at  the  lowest  stage  at  which  his  habits 
have  been  made  a  subject  of  study,  we  are  met  by  a  curious 
and  conflicting  mass  of  evidence  respecting  his  religious  beliefs. 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  487 

The  writers  and  observers  whose  opinions  have  been  recorded 
are  innumerable  ;  but  they  may  be  said  to  be  divided  into  two 
camps  on  a  fundamental  point  under  discussion.  In  no  stage  of 
his  development,  in  no  society,  and  in  no  condition  of  society,  is 
man  found  without  religion  of  some  sort,  say  one  side.  Whole 
societies  of  men  and  entire  nations  have  existed  without  any- 
thing which  can  be  described  as  a  religion,  say  the  other  side. 
In  one  of  the  Gifford  Lectures,  Mr.  Max  Miiller  well  describes 
the  confusion  existing  among  those  who  have  undertaken  to 
inform  us  on  the  subject.  "  Some  missionaries,"  he  says,  "  find 
no  trace  of  religion  where  anthropologists  see  the  place  swarming 
with  ghosts  and  totems  and  fetiches  ;  while  other  missionaries 
discover  deep  religious  feelings  in  savages  whom  anthropologists 
declare  perfectly  incapable  of  anything  beyond  the  most  primi- 
tive sensuous  perception."  l  He  goes  on  to  show  how  these  two 
parties  occasionally  change  sides.  "  When  the  missionary,"  he 
declares,  "wants  to  prove  that  no  human  being  can  be  without 
some  spark  of  religion,  he  sees  religion  everywhere,  even  in 
what  is  called  totemism  and  fetichism ;  while  if  he  wants  to 
show  how  necessary  it  is  to  teach  and  convert  these  irreligious 
races,  he  cannot  paint  their  abject  state  in  too  strong  colors, 
and  he  is  apt  to  treat  even  their  belief  in  an  invisible  and  name- 
less God  as  mere  hallucination.  Nor  is  the  anthropologist  free 
from  such  temptations.  If  he  wants  to  prove  that,  like  the 
child,  every  race  of  men  was  at  one  time  atheistic,  then  neither 
totems,  nor  fetiches,  nor  even  prayers  or  sacrifices,  are  any  proof 
in  his  eyes  of  an  ineradicable  religious  instinct."2 

The  dispute  is  an  old  one,  and  examples  of  the  differences  of 
opinion  and  statement  referred  to  by  Mr.  Max  Miiller  will  be 
found  in  books  like  Sir  John  Lubbock's  Origin  of  Civilization 
and  Prehistoric  Times,  Tylor's  Primitive  Culture  and  Researches 
into  the  Early  History  of  Mankind,  Quatrefages'  L'Espece 
Humaine,  and  the  more  recent  writings  of  Roskoff,  Professor 
Gruppe,  and  others.  In  the  considerable  number  of  works 
which  continually  issue  from  the  press,  dealing  with  the  habits 

1  Natural  Religion  (Gifford  Lectures),  p.  85. 
id.,  p.  87. 


488  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  beliefs  of  the  lower  races  of  men,  this  feature  is  very 
marked.  A  recent  criticism  of  one  of  these  (Mr.  H.  L.  Roth's 
Aborigines  of  Tasmania)  in  Nature  concludes  :  "  Such  is  the 
nature  of  the  evidence  bearing  on  the  religious  ideas  of  the 
Tasmanians,  which  Mr.  Roth  has  collected  so  carefully  and  so 
conscientiously.  Nothing  can  be  more  full  of  contradictions, 
more  doubtful,  more  perplexing.  Yet,  with  such  materials,  our 
best  anthropologists  and  sociologists  have  built  up  their  sys- 
tems. .  .  .  There  is  hardly  any  kind  of  religion  which  could 
not  be  proved  to  have  been  the  original  religion  of  the  Tas- 
manians." And  it  is  even  added  that  the  evidence  would  serve 
equally  well  to  show  that  the  Tasmanians  were  "  without  any 
religious  ideas  or  ceremonial  usages." 1  Underlying  all  this, 
there  is,  evidently,  a  state  of  chaos  as  regards  general  princi- 
ples. Different  writers  and  observers,  when  they  speak  of  the 
religion  of  lower  races  of  men,  do  not  refer  to  the  same  thing; 
they  have  themselves  often  no  clear  conception  of  what  they 
mean  by  the  expression.  They  do  not  know,  in  short,  what  to 
look  for  as  the  essential  element  in  a  religion. 

Now  there  is  one  universal  and  noteworthy  feature  of  the 
life  of  primitive  man  which  a  comparative  study  of  his  habits 
has  revealed.  "  No  savage,"  says  Sir  John  Lubbock,  "  is  free. 
All  over  the  world  his  daily  life  is  regulated  by  a  complicated 
and  apparently  most  inconvenient  set  of  customs  as  forcible  as 
laws."  2  We  are  now  beginning  to  understand  that  it  is  these 
customs  of  savage  man,  strange  and  extraordinary  as  they  ap- 
pear to  us,  that  in  great  measure  take  the  place  of  the  legal 
and  moral  codes  which  serve  to  hold  society  together  and  con- 
tribute to  its  further  development  in  our  advanced  civilizations. 
The  whole  tendency  of  recent  anthropological  science  is  to 
establish  the  conclusion  that  these  habits  and  customs,  "  as  for- 
cible as  laws,"  either  have  or  had,  directly  or  indirectly,  a  utili- 
tarian function  to  perform  in  the  societies  in  which  they  exist. 
Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  and  others  have  already  traced  in  many 
cases  the  important  influence  in  the  evolution  of  early  society 

1  Vide  Nature,  September  18,  1890. 

2  Origin  of  Civilization,  p.  301. 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  489 

of  those  customs,  habits,  and  ceremonies  of  savage  man  which 
at  first  sight  often  appear  so  meaningless  and  foolish  to  us ; 
and  though  this  department  of  science  is  still  young,  there  is 
no  doubt  as  to  the  direction  in  which  current  research  therein 
is  leading  us. 

But  if,  on  the  one  hand,  we  find  primitive  man  thus  every- 
where under  the  sway  of  customs  which  we  are  to  regard  as 
none  other  than  the  equivalent  of  the  legal  and  moral  codes  of 
higher  societies  ;  and  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  find  these  cus- 
toms everywhere  as  forcible  as  laws,  how,  it  may  be  asked,  are 
those  unwritten  laws  of  savage  society  enforced  ?  The  answer 
comes  prompt  and  without  qualification.  They  are  everywhere 
enforced  in  one  and  the  same  way.  Observance  of  them  is 
invariably  secured  by  the  fear  of  consequences  from  an  agent 
which  is  always  supernatural.  This  agent  may,  and  does,  assume 
a  variety  of  forms,  but  one  characteristic  it  never  loses.  It  is 
always  supernatural.  We  have  here  the  explanation  of  the  con- 
flict of  opinions  regarding  the  religions  of  primitive  man.  Some 
writers  assume  that  he  is  without  religion  because  he  is  with- 
out a  belief  in  a  deity.  Others  because  his  deities  are  all  evil. 
But,  if  we  are  right  so  far,  it  is  not  necessarily  a  belief  in  a 
deity,  or  in  deities  which  are  not  evil,  that  we  must  look  for 
as  constituting  the  essential  element  in  the  religions  of  primitive 
men.  The  one  essential  and  invariable  feature  must  be  a  super- 
natural sanction  of  some  kind  for  acts  and  observances  which 
have  a  social  significance.  This  sanction  we  appear  always  to 
have.  We  are  never  without  the  supernatural  in  some  form. 
The  essential  fact  which  underlies  all  the  prolonged  and  com- 
plicated controversy  which  has  been  waged  over  this  subject  was 
once  put,  with  perhaps  more  force  than  reverence,  by  Profes- 
sor Huxley  into  a  single  sentence.  "There  are  savages  without 
God  in  any  proper  sense  of  the  word,  but  there  are  none  with- 
out ghosts,"1  said  he;  and  the  generalization,  however  it  may 
have  been  intended,  expresses  in  effective  form  the  one  fun- 
damental truth  in  the  discussion  with  which  science  is  con- 
cerned. It  is  the  supernatural  agents,  the  deities,  spirits,  ghosts, 

JLay  Sermons  and  Addresses,  p.  163. 


490  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

with  which  primitive  man  peoples  the  air,  water,  rocks,  trees, 
his  dwellings  and  his  implements,  which  everywhere  provide  the 
ultimate  sanction  used  to  enforce  conduct  which  has  a  social 
significance  of  the  kind  in  question.  Whatever  qualities  these 
agents  may  be  supposed  to  possess  or  to  lack,  one  attribute 
they  always  have  :  they  are  invariably  supernatural. 

When  we  leave  savage  man,  and  rise  a  step  higher  to  those 
societies  which  have  made  some  progress  towards  civilization, 
we  find  the  prevailing  religions  still  everywhere  possessing  the 
same  distinctive  features  ;  they  are  always  associated  with  social 
conduct,  and  they  continue  to  be  invariably  founded  on  a  belief 
in  the  supernatural.  In  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Egyptians, 
we  encounter  this  element  at  every  point.  Professor  Tiele  says 
that  the  two  things  which  were  specially  characteristic  of  it  were 
the  worship  of  animals  and  the  worship  of  the  dead.  The  worship 
of  the  dead  took  the  foremost  place.  "The  animals  worshiped 
—  originally  nothing  but  fetiches,  which  they  continued  to  be 
for  the  great  majority  of  the  worshipers  —  were  brought  by  the 
doctrinal  expositions,  and  by  the  educated  classes,  into  connec- 
tion with  certain  particular  gods,  and  thus  came  to  be  regarded 
as  the  terrestrial  incarnation  of  these  gods."  The  belief  in  the 
supernatural  was  the  characteristic  feature  of  the  religion  of 
the  ancient  Chinese,  and  this  element  has  survived  unchanged 
in  it,  through  all  the  developments  it  has  undergone  down  to 
our  own  day,  as  well  as  in  the  other  forms  of  religious  belief 
which  influence  the  millions  of  the  Celestial  Empire  at  the  present 
time.  The  religion  of  the  ancient  Assyrians  presents  the  same 
essential  features.  It  was  a  polytheism  with  a  large  number  of 
deities  who  were  objects  of  adoration.  We  already  find  in  it 
some  idea  of  a  future  life,  and  of  rewards  and  punishments  therein, 
the  latter  varying  according  to  different  degrees  of  wickedness 
in  this  life. 

In  the  religions  of  the  early  Greeks  and  Romans,  represent- 
ing the  forms  of  belief  prevalent  amongst  peoples  who  eventu- 
ally attained  to  the  highest  state  of  civilization  anterior  to  our 
own,  we  have  features  of  peculiar  interest.  The  religion  of  the 
prehistoric  ancestors  of  both  peoples  was  in  all  probability  a 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  491 

form  of  ancestor-worship.  The  isolated  family  ruled  by  the 
head,  with,  as  a  matter  of  course,  absolute  power  over  the 
members,  was  the  original  unit  alike  in  the  religious  and  politi- 
cal systems  of  these  peoples.  At  the  death  of  some  all-powerful 
head  of  this  kind,  his  spirit  was  held  in  awe,  and,  as  genera- 
tions went  on,  the  living  master  of  the  house  found  himself 
ruling  simply  as  the  vicegerent  of  the  man  from  whom  he  had 
inherited  his  authority.  Thus  arose  the  family  religion  which 
was  the  basis  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  systems,  all  outside  the 
family  religion  being  regarded  as  aliens  or  enemies.  As  the 
family  expanded  in  favorable  circumstances  into  a  related  group 
(the  Latin  gens],  and  the  gens  in  turn  into  clans  (phratriari), 
and  these  again  into  tribes  (phylai},  an  aggregate  of  which 
formed  the  city  state  or  polis,  the  idea  of  family  relationship 
remained  the  characteristic  feature  of  the  religion.  All  the 
groups,  including  the  polis,  were,  as  Sir  G.  W.  Cox  points  out, 
religious  societies,  and  the  subordinate  fellowships  were  "  reli- 
gioils  with  an  intensity  scarcely  to  us  conceivable."  In  the 
development  which  such  a  system  underwent  among  the  early 
Romans  —  a  system  hard,  cruel,  and  unpitying,  which  necessarily 
led  to  the  treatment  of  all  outsiders  as  enemies  or  aliens  fit 
only  to  be  made  slaves  of  or  tributaries  —  we  had  the  necessary 
religion  for  the  people  who  eventually  made  themselves  mas- 
ters of  the  world,  and  in  whom  the  military  type  of  society 
ultimately  culminated. 

But  if  it  is  asked  what  the  sanction  was  behind  the  religious 
requirements  of  these  social  groups,  "  religious  with  an  intensity 
scarcely  to  us  conceivable,"  the  answer  is  still  the  same.  There 
is  no  qualification.  It  is  still  invariably  supernatural,  using  this 
term  in  the  sense  of  ultra-rational.  The  conception  of  the 
supernatural  has  become  a  .higher  one  than  that  which  prevailed 
amongst  primitive  men,  and  the  development  in  this  direction 
may  be  distinguished  actually  in  progress,  but  the  belief  in  this 
sanction  survives  in  all  its  force.  The  religions  of  ancient 
Greece  and  Rome  at  the  period  of  their  highest  influence  drew 
their  strength  everywhere  from  the  belief  in  the  supernatural, 
and  it  has  to  be  observed  that  their  decay  dated  from,  and 


492 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


progressed  pari  passu  with,  the  decay  of  this  belief.  The  Roman 
religion,  which  so  profoundly  influenced  the  development  of  Ro- 
man civilization,  derived  its  influence  throughout  its  history 
from  the  belief  in  the  minds  of  men  that  its  rules  and  ordinances 
had  a  supernatural  origin.  Summarizing  its  characteristics,  Mr. 
Lecky  says  :  "  It  gave  a  kind  of  official  consecration  to  certain 
virtues  and  commemorated  special  instances  in  which  they  had 
been  displayed ;  its  local  character  strengthened  patriotic  feel- 
ing, its  worship  of  the  dead  fostered  a  vague  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul ;  it  sustained  the  supremacy  of  the  father  in  the 
family,  surrounded  marriage  with  many  imposing  ceremonies, 
and  created  simple  and  reverent  characters  profoundly  submis- 
sive to  an  overruling  Providence  and  scrupulously  observant 
of  sacred  rites."  1  A  belief  in  the  supernatural  was  in  fact 
everywhere  present,  and  it  constituted  the  essential  element  of 
strength  in  the  Roman  religion. 

If  we  turn  again  to  Mohammedanism  and  Buddhism,  forms 
of  belief  influencing  large  numbers  of  men  at  the  present  -day 
outside  our  own  civilization,  we  still  find  these  essential  fea- 
tures. The  same  sanction  for  conduct  is  always  present.  The 
essence  of  Buddhist  morality  Mr.  Max  Miiller  states  to  be  a 
belief  in  Karma,  that  is,  of  work  done  in  this  or  a  former  life 
which  must  go  on  producing  effects.  "  We  are  born  as  what 
we  deserve  to  be  born ;  we  are  paying  our  penalty  or  receiving 
our  reward  in  this  life  for  former  acts.  This  makes  the  sufferer 
more  patient ;  for  he  feels  that  he  is  wiping  out  an  old  debt ; 
while  the  happy  man  knows  that  he  is  living  on  the  interest  of 
his  capital  of  good  works,  and  that  he  must  try  to  lay  by  more 
capital  for  a  future  life."  2  We  have  only  to  look  for  a  moment 
to  see  that  we  have  in  this  the  same  ultra-rational  sanction  for 
conduct.  There  is  and  can  be  no  proof  of  such  a  theory ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  assumes  a  cause  operating  in  a  manner  alto- 
gether beyond  the  tests  of  reason  and  experience. 

We  may  survey  the  whole  field  of  man's  religions  in  socie- 
ties both  anterior  to  and  contemporaneous  with  our  modern 

1  History  of  European  Morals,  Vol.  I,  pp.  176,  177. 

2  Natural  Religion,  p.  112. 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  493 

civilization,  and  we  shall  find  that  all  religious  beliefs  possess 
these  characteristic  features.  There  is  no  exception.  Every- 
where these  beliefs  are  associated  with  conduct,  having  a  social 
significance ;  and  everywhere  the  ultimate  sanction  which  they 
provide  for  the  conduct  which  they  prescribe  is  a  super-rational 
one. 

Coming  at  last  to  the  advanced  societies  of  the  present  day, 
we  are  met  by  a  condition  of  things  of  great  interest.  The 
facts  which  appeared  so  confusing  in  the  last  chapter  now  fall 
into  place  with  striking  regularity.  The  observer  remarks  at 
the  outset  that  there  exist  now,  as  at  other  times  in  the  world's 
history,  forms  of  belief  intended  to  regulate  conduct  in  which 
a  super-rational  sanction  has  no  place.  But,  with  no  want  of 
respect  for  the  persons  who  hold  these  views,  he  finds  himself 
compelled  to  immediately  place  such  beliefs  on  one  side.  None 
of  them,  he  notes,  has  proved  itself  to  be  a  religion ;  none  of 
them  can  so  far  claim  to  have  influenced  and  moved  large 
masses  of  men  in  the  manner  of  a  religion.  He  can  find  no  ex- 
ception to  this  rule.  If  he  desired  to  accept  any  one  of  them 
as  a  religion,  he  notes  that  he  would  be  constrained  to  do  so 
merely  on  the  ipse  dixit  of  the  small  group  of  persons  who  chose 
so  to  describe  it. 

When  we  turn,  however,  to  these  forms  of  belief  which  are 
unquestionably  influencing  men  in  the  manner  of  a  religion,  we 
have  to  -mark  that  they  have  one  pronounced  and  universal 
characteristic.  The  sanction  they  offer  for  the  conduct  they 
prescribe  is  unmistakably  a  super-rational  one.  We  may  regard 
the  whole  expanse  of  our  modern  civilization,  and  we  shall  have 
to  note  that  there  is  no  exception  to  this  rule.  Nay,  more,  we 
shall  have  to  acknowledge,  if  we  keep  our  minds  free  from 
confusion,  that  there  is  no  tendency  whatever  to  eliminate  the 
super-rational  element  from  religions.  Individuals  may  lose  faith, 
may  withhold  belief,  and  may  found  parties  of  their  own ;  but 
among  the  religions  themselves  we  shall  find  no  evidence  of 
any  kind  of  movement  or  law  of  development  in  this  direction. 
On  the  contrary,  however  these  beliefs  may  differ  from  each 
other,  or  from  the  religions  of  the  past,  they  have  the  one 


494 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


feature  in  common  that  they  all  assert  uncompromisingly  that 
the  rules  of  conduct  which  they  enjoin  have  an  ultra-rational 
sanction,  and  that  right  and  wrong  are  right  and  wrong  by 
divine  or  supernatural  enactment  outside  of,  and  independent 
of,  any  other  cause  whatever. 

This  is  true  of  every  form  of  religion  that  we  see  influencing 
men  in  the  world  around  us,  from  Buddhism  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  and  the  Salvation  Army.  The  supernatural 
element  in  religion,  laments  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  "  survives 
in  great  strength  down  to  our  own  day.  Religious  creeds, 
established  and  dissenting,  all  embody  the  belief  that  right  and 
wrong  are  right  and  wrong  simply  in  virtue  of  divine  enact- 
ment." l  This  is  so ;  but  not  apparently  because  of  some  mean- 
ingless instinct  in  man.  It  is  so  in  virtue  of  a  fundamental 
law  of  our  social  evolution.  It  is  not  that  men  perversely 
reject  the  light  set  before  them  by  that  school  of  ethics  which 
has  found  its  highest  expression  in  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer's  the- 
ories. It  is  simply  that  the  deep-seated  instincts  of  society  have 
a  truer  scientific  basis  than  our  current  science. 

Finally,  if  our  inquiry  so  far  has  led  us  to  correct  conclu- 
sions, we  have  the  clew  to  a  large  class  of  facts  which  has 
attracted  the  notice  of  many  observers,  but  which  has  hitherto 
been  without  scientific  explanation.  We  see  now  why  it  is  that, 
as  Mr.  Lecky  asserts,  "  all  religions  which  have  governed  man- 
kind have  done  so  ...  by  speaking,  as  common  religious  lan- 
guage describes  it,  to  the  heart,"  2  and  not  to  the  intellect ;  or, 
as  an  advocate  of  Christianity  has  recently  put  it,  A  religion 
makes  its  way  not  by  argument,  or  by  the  rational  sanctions 
which  it  offers,  "  but  by  an  appeal  to  those  fundamental  spiritual 
instincts  of  men  to  which  it  supremely  corresponds."3  We  see 
also  why,  despite  the  apparent  tendency  to  the  disintegration 
of  religious  belief  among  the  intellectual  classes  at  the  present 
day,  those  who  seek  to  compromise  matters  by  getting  rid  of 
that  feature  which  is  the  essential  element  in  all  religions  make 

1  Data  of  Ethics,  p.  50. 

2  History  of  European  Morals,  Vol.  I,  p.  58. 

8  W.  S.  Lilly,  in  Nineteenth  Century,  September,  1889. 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  495 

no  important  headway ;  and  why,  as  a  prominent  member  of 
one  of  the  churches  has  recently  remarked,  the  undogmatic 
sects  reap  the  scantiest  harvest,  while  the  dogmatic  churches 
still  take  the  multitude.  We  are  led  to  perceive  how  inherently 
hopeless  and  misdirected  is  the  effort  of  those  who  try  to  do 
what  Camus  and  Gre'goire  attempted  to  make  the  authors  of 
the  French  Revolution  do,  —  reorganize  Christianity  without 
believing  in  Christ.  A  form  of  belief  from  which  the  ultra- 
rational  element  has  been  eliminated  is,  it  would  appear,  no 
longer  capable  of  exercising  the  function  of  a  religion. 

Professor  Huxley,  some  time  ago,  in  a  severe  criticism  of  the 
"  Religion  of  Humanity  "  advocated  by  the  followers  of  Comte,1 
asserted,  in  accents  which  always  come  naturally  to  the  indi- 
vidual when  he  looks  at  the  drama  of  human  life  from  his  own 
standpoint,  that  he  would  as  soon  worship  "  a  wilderness  of 
apes  "  as  the  Positivist's  rationalized  conception  of  humanity. 
But  the  comparison  with  which  he  concluded,  in  which  he 
referred  to  the  considerable  progress  made  by  Mormonism  as 
contrasted  with  Positivism,  has  its  explanation  when  viewed  in 
the  light  of  the  foregoing  conclusions.  Mormonism  may  be  a 
monstrous  form  of  belief,  and  one  which  is  undoubtedly  des- 
tined to  be  worsted  in  conflict  with  the  forms  of  Christianity  pre- 
vailing round  it ;  yet  it  is  seen  that  we  cannot  deny  to  it  the 
characteristics  of  a  religion.  Although,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
"  Religion  of  Humanity  "  advocated  by  Comte  may  be,  and  is, 
a  most  exemplary  set  of  principles,  we  perceive  it  to  be  without 
those  characteristics.  It  is  not,  apparently,  a  religion  at  all. 
It  is,  like  other  forms  of  belief  which  do  not  provide  a  super- 
rational  sanction  for  conduct,  but  which  call  themselves  reli- 
gions, incapable,  from  the  nature  of  the  conditions,  of  exercising 
the  functions  of  a  religion  in  the  evolution  of  society.2 

1  Nineteenth  Century,  February,  1889. 

2  It  is  very  interesting  to  notice  how  clearly  G.  H.  Lewes,  himself  a  distin- 
guished adherent  of  Comte,  perceived  the  inherent  antagonism  between  religion 
and  philosophy  (the  aim  of  the  latter  having  always  been  to  establish  a  rational 
sanction  for  conduct),  and  yet  without  realizing  the  significance  of  this  antagonism 
in  the  process  of  social  evolution  the  race  is  undergoing.    Speaking  of  the  attempt 
made  in  the  past  to  establish  a  "  religious  philosophy,"  he  remarks  upon  its 


496  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

In  the  religious  beliefs  of  mankind  we  have  not  simply  a  class 
of  phenomena  peculiar  to  the  childhood  of  the  race.  We  have 
therein  the  characteristic  feature  of  our  social  evolution.  These 
beliefs  constitute,  in  short,  the  natural  and  inevitable  comple- 
ment of  our  reason ;  and  so  far  from  being  threatened  with 
eventual  dissolution  they  are  apparently  destined  to  continue  to 
grow  with  the  growth  and  to  develop  with  the  development 
of  society,  while  always  preserving  intact  and  unchangeable 
the  one  essential  feature  they  all  have  in  common  in  the  ultra- 
rational  sanction  they  provide  for  conduct.  And  lastly,  as  we 
understand  how  an  ultra-rational  sanction  for  the  sacrifice  of  the 
interests  of  the  individual  to  those  of  the  social  organism  has 
been  a  feature  common  to  all  religions,  we  see,  also,  why  the 
conception  of  sacrifice  has  occupied  such  a  central  place  in  nearly 
all  beliefs,  and  why  the  tendency  of  religion  has  ever  been  to  sur- 
round this  principle  with  the  most  impressive  and  stupendous 
of  sanctions.1 

innate  impossibility  because  the  doctrines  of  religion  have  always  been  held  to 
have  been  revealed,  and  therefore  beyond  and  inaccessible  to  reason.  "  So  that," 
he  says,  "  metaphysical  problems,  the  attempted  solution  of  which  by  Reason  consti- 
tutes Philosophy,  are  solved  by  Faith,  and  yet  the  name  of  Philosophy  is  retained ! 
But  the  very  groundwork  of  Philosophy  consists  in  reasoning,  as  the  groundwork 
of  Religion  is  Faith.  There  cannot,  consequently,  be  a  Religious  Philosophy :  it 
is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Philosophy  may  be  occupied  about  the  same  prob- 
lems as  Religion  ;  but  it  employs  altogether  different  criteria,  and  depends  on 
altogether  different  principles.  Religion  may,  and  should,  call  in  Philosophy  to 
its  aid ;  but  in  so  doing  it  assigns  to  Philosophy  only  the  subordinate  office  of 
illustrating,  reconciling,  or  applying  its  dogmas.  This  is  not  a  Religious  Philoso- 
phy, it  is  Religion  and  Philosophy,  the  latter  stripped  of  its  boasted  prerogative 
of  deciding  for  itself,  and  allowed  only  to  employ  itself  in  reconciling  the  deci- 
sions of  Religion  and  of  Reason  "  (History  of  Philosophy,  Vol.  I,  p.  409).  These 
are  words  written  with  true  scientific  insight.  But  a  clearer  perception  of  the 
fundamental  problem  of  human  evolution  might  have  led  the  writer  to  see  that 
the  universal  instinct  of  mankind  which  has  recognized  that  the  essential  element 
in  a  religion  is  that  its  doctrines  should  be  inaccessible  to  reason  has  its  founda- 
tion in  the  very  nature  of  the  problem  our  social  evolution  presents ;  and  that 
the  error  of  Comte  has  been  in  assuming  that  a  set  of  principles  from  which  this 
element  has  been  eliminated  is  capable  of  performing  the  functions  of  a  religion. 
1  It  is  the  expression  of  the  antagonism  between  the  interests  of  the  individual 
and  those  of  the  social  organism  in  process  of  evolution  that  we  have  in  Kant's 
conception  of  the  opposition  between  the  inner  and  outer  life,  in  Green's  idea  of 
the  antagonism  between  the  natural  man  and  the  spiritual  man,  and  in  Professor 


FUNCTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  BELIEFS  497 

To  the  consideration  of  the  results  flowing  from  this  recogni- 
tion of  the  real  nature  of  the  problem  underlying  our  social  devel- 
opment we  have  now  to  address  ourselves.  If  we  have,  in  the 
social  system  founded  on  a  form  of  religious  belief,  the  true  or- 
ganic growth  with  which  science  is  concerned,  we  must,  it  would 
appear,  be  able  then  to  discover  some  of  the  principles  of  devel- 
opment under  the  influence  of  which  the  social  growth  proceeds. 
If  it  is  in  the  ethical  system  upon  which  a  social  type  is  founded 
that  we  have  the  seat  of  a  vast  series  of  vital  phenomena  unfold- 
ing themselves  in  obedience  to  law,  then  we  must  be  able  to 
investigate  the  phenomena  of  the  past  and  to  observe  the  tend- 
encies of  the  current  time  with  more  profit  than  the  study  of 
either  history  or  sociology  has  hitherto  afforded.  Let  us  see, 
therefore,  with  what  prospect  of  success  the  biologist,  who  has 
carried  the  principles  of  his  science  so  far  into  human  society, 
may  now  address  himself  to  the  consideration  of  the  history  of 
that  process  of  life  in  the  midst  of  which  we  are  living,  and 
which  we  know  under  the  name  of  Western  civilization. 

Caird's  conception  of  the  differences  between  self  and  not-self.  We  would  not 
be  precluded  from  accepting  religion  in  Fichte's  sense  —  as  the  realization  of 
universal  reason  —  if  we  can  understand  universal  reason  involving  the  conception 
that  the  highest  good  is  the  furtherance  of  the  evolutionary  process  the  race  is  under- 
going. But  once  we  have  clearly  grasped  the  nature  of  the  characteristic  problem 
human  evolution  presents,  we  see  how  absolutely  individual  rationalism  has  been 
precluded  from  attaining  this  position :  it  can  only  be  reached  as  Kant  contem- 
plated, —  "by  a  faith  of  reason  which  postulates  a  God  to  realize  it "  (i.e.  the 
ultra-rational).  Individuals  repudiating  ultra-rational  sanctions  may  feel  it  pos- 
sible to  willingly  participate  in  the  cosmic  process  in  progress ;  but  conclusions 
often  drawn  from  this  involve  an  incomplete  realization  of  the  fact  that  the  feel- 
ings which  render  it  possible  are  —  like  our  civilizations  themselves  —  the  direct 
product  of  ethical  systems  founded  on  ultra-rational  sanctions.  We  live  and  move 
in  the  midst  of  the  influences  of  these  systems,  and  it  is  only  by  a  mental  effort 
of  which  only  the  strongest  minds  are  capable  that  we  can  even  imagine  what 
our  action,  or  the  action  of  others,  would  be  if  they  were  nonexistent. 


XIX 

THE  RELATIVITY  OF  GENIUS1 

Those  who  have  read  history  with  discrimination  know  the 
fallacy  of  those  panegyrics  and  invectives  which  represent  indi- 
viduals as  effecting  great  moral  and  intellectual  revolutions,  sub- 
verting established  systems,  and  imprinting  a  new  character  on 
their  age.  The  difference  between  one  man  and  another  is  by 
no  means  so  great  as  the  superstitious  crowd  supposes.  But  the 
same  feelings  which  in  ancient  Rome  produced  the  apotheosis 
of  a  popular  emperor,  and  in  modern  Rome  the  canonization  of 
a  devout  prelate,  lead  men  to  cherish  an  illusion  which  furnishes 
them  with  something  to  adore.  By  a  law  of  association,  from  the 
operation  of  which  even  minds  the  most  strictly  regulated  by 
reason  are  not  wholly  exempt,  misery  disposes  us  to  hatred, 
and  happiness  to  love,  although  there  may  be  no  person  to  whom 
our  misery  or  our  happiness  can  be  ascribed.  The  peevishness 
of  an  invalid  vents  itself  even  on  those  who  alleviate  his  pain. 
The  good  humor  of  a  man  elated  by  success  often  displays  itself 
towards  enemies.  In  the  same  manner  the  feelings  of  pleasure 
and  admiration,  to  which  the  contemplation  of  great  events 
gives  birth,  make  an  object  where  they  do  not  find  it.  Thus  na- 
tions descend  to  the  absurdities  of  Egyptian  idolatry,  and  worship 
stocks  and  reptiles  —  Sacheverells  and  Wilkeses.  They  even  fall 
prostrate  before  a  deity  to  which  they  have  themselves  given  the 
form  which  commands  their  veneration,  and  which,  unless  fash- 
ioned by  them,  would  have  remained  a  shapeless  block.  They 
persuade  themselves  that  they  are  the  creatures  of  what  they 
have  themselves  created.  For,  in  fact,  it  is  the  age  that  forms 
the  man,  not  the  man  that  forms  the  age.  Great  minds  do 
indeed  react  on  the  society  which  -has  made  them  what  they 

1  From  the  Essay  on  Dry  den,  by  Thomas  Babington  Macaulay. 
498 


THE  RELATIVITY  OF  GENIUS  499 

are,  but  they  only  pay  with  interest  what  they  have  received. 
We  extol  Bacon,  and  sneer  at  Aquinas.  But  if  their  situations 
had  been  changed,  Bacon  might  have  been  the  Angelical  Doctor, 
the  most  subtle  Aristotelian  of  the  schools  ;  the  Dominican  might 
have  led  forth  the  sciences  from  their  house  of  bondage.  If 
Luther  had  been  born  in  the  tenth  century,  he  would  have 
effected  no  reformation.  If  he  had  never  been  born  at  all,  it  is 
evident  that  the  sixteenth  century  could  not  have  elapsed  without 
a  great  schism  in  the  church.  Voltaire,  in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV, 
would  probably  have  been,  like  most  of  the  literary  men  of 
that  time,  a  zealous  Jansenist,  eminent  among  the  defenders 
of  efficacious  grace,  a  bitter  assailant  of  the  lax  morality  of  the 
Jesuits  and  the  •  unreasonable  decisions  of  the  Sorbonne.  If 
Pascal  had  entered  on  his  literary  career  when  intelligence  was 
more  general,  and  abuses  at  the  same  time  more  flagrant,  when 
the  church  was  polluted  by  the  Iscariot  Dubois,  the  court  dis- 
graced by  the  orgies  of  Canilac,  and  the  nation  sacrificed  to  the 
juggles  of  Law ;  if  he  had  lived  to  see  a  dynasty  of  harlots,  an 
empty  treasury  and  a  crowded  harem,  an  army  formidable  only 
to  those  whom  it  should  have  protected,  a  priesthood  just  reli- 
gious enough  to  be  intolerant,  — he  might  possibly,  like  every  man 
of  genius  in  France,  have  imbibed  extravagant  prejudices  against 
monarchy  and  Christianity.  The  wit  which  blasted  the  sophisms 
of  Escobar,  the  impassioned  eloquence  which  defended  the  sis- 
ters of  Port  Royal,  the  intellectual  hardihood  which  was  not 
beaten  down  even  by  papal  authority,  might  have  raised  him  to  the 
Patriarchate  of  the  Philosophical  Church.  It  was  long  disputed 
whether  the  honor  of  inventing  the  method  of  fluxions  belonged 
to  Newton  or  to  Leibnitz.  It  is  now  generally  allowed  that  these 
great  men  made  the  same  discovery  at  the  same  time.  Mathe- 
matical science,  indeed,  had  then  reached  such  a  point  that  if 
neither  of  them  had  ever  existed,  the  principle  must  inevitably 
have  occurred  to  some  person  within  a  few  years.  So  in  our  own 
time,  the  doctrine  of  rent  now  universally  received  by  political 
economists  was  propounded  almost  at  the  same  moment  by  two 
writers  unconnected  with  each  other.  Preceding  speculators  had 
long  been  blundering  round  about  it ;  and  it  could  not  possibly 


500  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

have  been  missed  much  longer  by  the  most  heedless  inquirer. 
We  are  inclined  to  think  that  with  respect  to  every  great  addi- 
tion which  has  been  made  to  the  stock  of  human  knowledge  the 
case  has  been  similar ;  that  without  Copernicus  we  should  have 
been  Copernicans,  that  without  Columbus  America  would  have 
been  discovered,  that  without  Locke  we  should  have  possessed  a 
just  theory  of  the  origin  of  human  ideas.  Society  indeed  has  its 
great  men  and  its  little  men,  as  the  earth  has  its  mountains  and 
its  valleys.  But  the  inequalities  of  intellect,  like  the  inequalities  of 
the  surface  of  our  globe,  bear  so  small  a  proportion  to  the  mass 
that  in  calculating  its  great  revolutions  they  may  safely  be  neg- 
lected. The  sun  illuminates  the  hills  while  it  is  still  below  the 
horizon  ;  and  truth  is  discovered  by  the  highest  minds  a  little 
before  it  becomes  manifest  to  the  multitude.  This  is  the  extent 
of  their  superiority.  They  are  the  first  to  catch  and  reflect  a 
light,  which,  without  their  assistance,  must,  in  a  short  time,  be 
visible  to  those  who  lie  far  beneath  them. 


XX 

THE  VIRTUES  OF  STUPIDITY1 

I  fear  you  will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  what  I  conceive  to  be 
about  the  most  essential  mental  quality  for  a  free  people  whose 
liberty  is  to  be  progressive,  permanent,  and  on  a  large  scale :  it 
is  much  stupidity.  Not  to  begin  by  wounding  any  present  sus- 
ceptibilities, let  me  take  the  Roman  character  ;  for  with  one  great 
exception,  —  I  need  not  say  to  whom  I  allude,  —  they  are  the 
great  political  people  of  history.  Now  is  not  a  certain  dullness 
their  most  visible  characteristic  ?  What  is  the  history  of  their 
speculative  mind  ?  A  blank.  What  their  literature  ?  A  copy. 
They  have  left  not  a  single  discovery  in  any  abstract  science,  not 
a  single  perfect  or  well-formed  work  of  high  imagination.  The 
Greeks,  the  perfection  of  human  and  accomplished  genius,  be- 
queathed to  mankind  the  ideal  forms  of  self-idolizing  art,  the 
Romans  imitated  and  admired  ;  the  Greeks  explained  the  laws 
of  nature,  the  Romans  wondered  and  despised  ;  the  Greeks  in- 
vented a  system  of  numerals  second  only  to  that  now  in  use,  the 
Romans  counted  to  the  end  of  their  days  with  the  clumsy  ap- 
paratus which  we  still  call  by  their  name  ;  the  Greeks  made  a 
capital  and  scientific  calendar,  the  Romans  began  their  month 
when  the  Pontifex  Maximus  happened  to  spy  out  the  new  moon. 
Throughout  Latin  literature  this  is  the  perpetual  puzzle :  Why 
are  we  free  and  they  slaves,  we  pretors  and  they  barbers  ?  Why 
do  the  stupid  people  always  win  and  the  clever  people  always 
lose?  I  need  not  say  that  in  real  sound  stupidity  the  English 
are  unrivaled ;  you  '11  hear  more  wit  and  better  wit  in  an  Irish 
street  row  than  would  keep  Westminster  Hall  in  humor  for 
five  weeks. 

1  From  Letters  on  the  French  Coup  d'fitat,  by  Walter  Bagehot. 
501 


502  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

In  fact,  what  we  opprobriously  call  "  stupidity,"  though  not  an 
enlivening  quality  in  common  society,  is  nature's  favorite  resource 
for  preserving  steadiness  of  conduct  and  consistency  of  opinion  ; 
it  enforces  concentration  :  people  who  learn  slowly  learn  only 
what  they  must.  The  best  security  for  people  doing  their  duty  is, 
that  they  should  not  know  anything  else  to  do  ;  the  best  security 
for  fixedness  of  opinion  is,  that  people  should  be  incapable  of 
comprehending  what  is  to  be  said  on  the  other  side.  These  valu- 
able truths  are  no  discoveries  of  mine  ;  they  are  familiar  enough 
to  people  whose  business  it  is  to  know  them.  Hear  what  a  douce 
and  aged  attorney  says  of  your  peculiarly  promising  barrister : 
"  Sharp  ?  Oh,  yes  !  he  's  too  sharp  by  half.  He  is  not  safe,  not 
a  minute,  is  n't  that  young  man."  I  extend  this,  and  advisedly 
maintain  that  nations,  just  as  individuals,  may  be  too  clever  to 
be  practical  and  not  dull  enough  to  be  free.  ... 

And  what  I  call  a  proper  stupidity  keeps  a  man  from  all  the 
defects  of  his  character  ;  it  chains  the  gifted  possessor  mainly  to 
his  old  ideas,  it  takes  him  seven  weeks  to  comprehend  an  atom 
of  a  new  one  ;  it  keeps  him  from  being  led  away  by  new  theo- 
ries, for  there  is  nothing  which  bores  him  so  much ;  it  restrains 
him  within  his  old  pursuit,  his  well-known  habits,  his  tried  ex- 
pedients, his  verified  conclusions,  his  traditional  beliefs.  He  is 
not  tempted  to  levity  or  impatience,  for  he  does  not  see  the  joke 
and  is  thick-skinned  to  present  evils.  Inconsistency  puts  him 
out :  "What  I  says  is  this  here,  as  I  was  a-saying  yesterday,"  is 
his  notion  of  historical  eloquence  and  habitual  discretion.  He  is 
very  slow  indeed  to  be  excited,  —  his  passions,  his  feelings,  and 
his  affections  are  dull  and  tardy  strong  things,  falling  in  a  certain 
known  direction,  fixed  on  certain  known  objects,  and  for  the 
most  part  acting  in  a  moderate  degree  and  at  a  sluggish  pace. 
You  always  know  where  to  find  his  mind.  Now  this  is  exactly 
what  (in  politics  at  least)  you  do  not  know  about  a  Frenchman. 


XXI 

IMITATION1 

After  these  long  preliminaries  I  must  develop  an  important 
chesis,  which  has  so  far  been  obscure  and  involved.  Science,  as  I 
have  said,  deals  only  with  quantities  and  growths,  or,  in  more  gen- 
eral terms,  with  the  resemblances  and  repetitions  of  phenomena. 

This  distinction,  however,  is  really  superfluous  and  superficial. 
Every  advance  in  knowledge  tends  to  strengthen  the  conviction 
that  all  resemblance  is  due  to  repetition.  I  think  that  this  may 
be  brought  out  in  the  three  following  propositions  : 

1.  All  resemblances  which  are  to  be  observed  in  the  chemi- 
cal, or  physical,  or  astronomical  worlds  (the  atoms  of  a  single 
body,  the  waves  of  a  single  ray  of  light,  the  concentric  strata 
of  attraction  of  which  every  heavenly  body  is  a  center)  can  be 
caused  and  explained  solely  by  periodic  and,  for  the  most  part, 
vibratory  motions. 

2.  All  resemblances  of  vital  origin  in  the  world  of  life  result 
from  hereditary  transmission,  from  either  intra-  or  extra-organic 
reproduction.      It  is  through  the  relationship  between  cells  and 
the  relationship  between  species  that  all  the  different  kinds  of 
analogies  and  homologies,  which  comparative  anatomy  points  out 
between  species,  and  histology  between  corporeal  elements,  are 
at  present  explained. 

3.  All  resemblances  of  social  origin  in  society  are  the  direct 
or  indirect  fruit  of  the  various  forms  of  imitation, — custom- 
imitation  or  fashion-imitation,  sympathy-imitation  or  obedience- 
imitation,  precept-imitation  or  education-imitation,  na'fve  imita- 
tion, deliberate  imitation,  etc.    In  this  lies  the  excellence  of  the 
contemporaneous  method  of  explaining  doctrines  and  institutions 
through  their  history.    It  is  a  method  that  is  certain  to  come 

1  From  The  Laws  of  Imitation,  by  Gabriel  Tarde.  Translated  by  Elsie  Clews 
Matthews  (copyright,  1903,  by  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  New  York). 

S°3 


504  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

into  more  general  use.  It  is  said  that  great  geniuses,  great 
inventors,  are  apt  to  cross  each  other's  paths.  But,  in  the  first 
place,  such  coincidences  are  very  rare,  and  when  they  do  occur 
they  are  always  due  to  the  fact  that  both  authors  of  the  same 
invention  have  drawn  independently  from  some  common  fund  of 
instruction.  This  fund  consists  of  a  mass  of  ancient  traditions 
and  of  experiences  that  are  unorganized,  or  that  have  been  more 
or  less  organized  and  imitatively  transmitted  through  language, 
the  great  vehicle  of  all  imitations. 

In  this  connection  we  may  observe  that  modern  philologists 
relied  so  implicitly  upon  the  foregoing  proposition  that  they  have 
concluded,  through  analogy,  that  Sanskrit,  Latin,  Greek,  Ger- 
man, Russian,  and  other  kindred  tongues  belong  in  reality  to  one 
family,  and  that  it  had  a  common  progenitor  in  a  language  which 
was  transmitted,  with  the  exception  of  certain  modifications, 
through  tradition.  Each  modification  was,  in  truth,  an  anonymous 
linguistic  invention  which  was,  in  turn,  perpetuated  by  imitation. 

There  is  only  one  great  class  of  universal  resemblances  which 
seem  at  first  as  if  they  could  not  have  been  produced  by  any 
form  of  repetition.  This  is  the  resemblance  of  the  parts  of 
infinite  space  whose  juxtaposition  and  immobility  are  the  very 
conditions  of  all  motion  whatsoever,  whether  vibratory,  or  repro- 
ductive, or  propagative  and  subduing.  But  we  must  not  pause 
over  this  apparent  exception.  It  is  enough  to  have  mentioned 
it.  Its  discussion  would  lead  us  too  far  afield. 

Turning  aside  from  this  anomaly,  which  may  be  illusory,  let 
us  maintain  the  truth  of  bur  general  proposition,  and  note  one 
of  its  direct  consequences.  If  quantity  signifies  resemblance,  if 
every  resemblance  proceeds  from  repetition,  and  if  every  repeti- 
tion is  a  vibration  (or  any  other  periodic  movement),  a  phenome- 
non of  reproduction,  or  an  act  of  imitation,  it  follows  that,  on  the 
hypothesis  that  no  motion  is,  or  ever  has  been,  vibratory,  no 
function  hereditary,  no  act  or  idea  learned  and  copied,  there 
would  be  no  such  thing  as  quantity  in  the  universe,  and  the  science 
of  mathematics  would  be  without  any  possible  use  or  conceivable 
application.  It  also  follows  upon  the  inverse  hypothesis,  that  if 
our  physical,  vital,  and  social  spheres  were  to  enlarge  the  range 


IMITATION  505 

of  their  vibratory,  reproductive,  and  propagative  activities,  our 
field  of  calculation  would  be  even  more  extensive  and  profound. 
This  fact  is  apparent  in  our  European  societies  where  the  extraor- 
dinary progress  of  fashion  in  all  its  forms,  in  dress,  food,  and 
housing,  in  wants  and  ideas,  in  institutions  and  arts,  is  making 
a  single  type  of  European  based  upon  several  hundreds  of  millions 
of  examples.  Is  it  not  evident  that  it  is  this  prodigious  leveling 
which  has  from  its  very  beginning  made  possible  the  birth  and 
growth  of  statistical  science  and  of  what  has  been  so  well  called 
social  physics,  political  economy?  Without  fashion  and  custom, 
social  quantities  would  not  exist,  there  would  be  no  values, 
no  money,  and,  consequently,  no  science  of  wealth  or  finance. 
(How  was  it  possible,  then,  for  economists  to  dream  of  formulat- 
ing theories  of  value  in  which  the  idea  of  imitation  had  no  part  ?) 
But  the  application  of  number  and  measure  to  societies,  which 
people  are  trying  to  make  nowadays,  cannot  help  being  partial 
and  tentative.  In  this  matter  the  future  has  many  surprises  in 
store  for  us ! 

At  this  point  we  might  develop  the  striking  analogies,  the 
equally  instructive  differences,  and  the  mutual  relations  of  the 
three  main  forms  of  universal  repetition.  We  might  also  seek 
for  the  explanation  of  their  majestically  interwoven  rhythms  and 
symmetries  ;  we  might  question  whether  the  content  of  these 
forms  resembled  them  or  not,  whether  the  active  and  underlying 
substance  of  these  well-ordered  phenomena  shared  in  their  sage 
uniformity,  or  whether  it  did  not  perhaps  contrast  with  them  in 
being  essentially  heterogeneous,  like  a  people  which  gave  no  evi- 
dence in  its  military  or  administrative  exterior  of  the  tumultuous 
idiosyncrasies  which  constituted  it  and  which  set  its  machinery 
in  motion. 

This  twofold  subject  would  be  too  vast.  In  the  first  part  of 
it,  however,  there  are  certain  obvious  analogies  which  we  should 
note.  In  the  first  place,  repetitions  are  also  multiplications  or 
self-spreading  contagions.  If  a  stone  falls  into  the  water,  the 
first  wave  which  it  produces  will  repeat  itself  in  circling  out  to 
the  confines  of  its  basin.  If  I  light  a  match,  the  first  undulation 
which  I  start  in  the  ether  will  instantly  spread  throughout  a  vast 


506  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

space.  If  one  couple  of  termites  or  of  phylloxeras  are  transported 
to  a  continent,  they  will  ravish  it  within  a  few  years.  The  per- 
nicious erigeron  of  Canada,  which  has  but  quite  recently  been 
imported  from  Europe,  flourishes  already  in  every  uncultivated 
field.  The  well-known  laws  of  Malthus  and  Darwin  on  the  tend- 
ency of  the  individuals  of  a  species  to  increase  in  geometrical 
progression  are  true  laws  of  human  radiation  through  reproduc- 
tion. In  the  same  way,  a  local  dialect  that  is  spoken  only  by 
certain  families  gradually  becomes,  through  imitation,  a  national 
idiom.  In  the  beginning  of  societies,  the  art  of  chipping  flint,  of 
domesticating  dogs,  of  making  bows,  and,  later,  of  leavening 
bread,  of  working  bronze,  of  extracting  iron,  etc.,  must  have 
spread  like  a  contagion,  since  every  arrow,  every  flake,  every 
morsel  of  bread,  every  thread  of  bronze,  served  both  as  model 
and  copy.  Nowadays  the  diffusion  of  all  kinds  of  useful  pro- 
cesses is  brought  about  in  the  same  way,  except  that  our  in- 
creasing density  of  population  and  our  advance  in  civilization 
prodigiously  accelerate  their  diffusion,  just  as  velocity  of  sound 
is  proportionate  to  density  of  medium.  Every  social  thing,  that 
is  to  say,  every  invention  or  discovery,  tends  to  expand  in  its 
social  environment,  an  environment  which  itself,  I  might  add, 
tends  to  self-expansion,  since  it  is  essentially  composed  of  like 
things,  all  of  which  have  infinite  ambitions. 

This*  tendency,  however,  here  as  in  external  nature,  often 
proves  abortive  through  the  competition  of  rival  tendencies. 
But  this  fact  is  of  little  importance  to  theory ;  besides,  it  is 
metaphorical.  Desire  can  no  more  be  attributed  to  ideas  than 
to  vibrations  or  species,  and  the  fact  in  question  must  be  under- 
stood to  mean  that  the  scattered  individual  forces  which  are 
inherent  in  the  innumerable  beings  composing  the  environment 
where  these  forms  propagate  themselves  have  taken  a  common 
direction.  In  this  sense,  this  tendency  towards  expansion  pre- 
supposes that  the  environment  in  question  is  homogeneous,  a 
condition  which  seems  to  be  well  fulfilled  by  the  ethereal  or 
aerial  medium  of  vibrations,  much  less  so  by  the  geographical 
and  chemical  medium  of  species,  and  infinitely  less  so  by  the 
social  medium  of  ideas.  But  it  is  a  mistake,  I  think,  to  express 


IMITATION  507 

this  difference  by  saying  that  the  social  medium  is  more  complex 
than  the  others.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  perhaps  because  it  is 
numerically  much  more  simple  that  it  is  farther  from  presenting 
the  required  homogeneity,  since  a  homogeneity  that  is  real  on 
the  surface,  merely,  suffices.  Besides,  as  the  agglomerations  of 
human  beings  increase,  the  spread  of  ideas  in  a  regular  geo- 
metrical progression  is  more  marked.  Let  us  exaggerate  this 
numerical  increase  to  an  extreme  degree  ;  let  us  suppose  that  the 
social  sphere  in  which  an  idea  can  expand  be  composed  not  only 
of  a  group  sufficiently  numerous  to  give  birth  to  the  principal 
moral  varieties  of  the  human  species,  but  also  of  thousands  of 
uniform  repetitions  of  these  groups,  so  that  the  uniformity  of 
these  repetitions  makes  an  apparent  homogeneity,  in  spite  of  the 
internal  complexity  of  each  group.  Have  we  not  some  reason 
for  thinking  that  this  is  the  kind  of  homogeneity  which  charac- 
terizes all  the  simple  and  apparently  uniform  realities  which 
external  nature  presents  to  us  ?  On  this  hypothesis,  it  is  evident 
that  the  success  of  an  idea,  the  more  or  less  rapid  rate  at  which 
it  circulated  on  the  day  of  its  appearance,  would  supply  the 
mathematical  reason,  in  a  way,  of  its  further  progression.  Given 
this  condition,  producers  of  articles  which  satisfied  prime  needs 
and  which  were  therefore  destined  for  universal  consumption 
would  be  able  to  foretell  from  the  demand  in  a  given  year,  at 
a  certain  price,  what  would  be  the  demand  in  the  following 
year,  at  the  same  price,  provided  no  check,  prohibitive  or 
otherwise,  intervened,  or  no  superior  article  of  the  same  class 
were  discovered. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  faculty  of  foresight  is  the  criterion 
of  science.  Let  us  amend  this  to  read,  the  faculty  of  conditional 
foresight.  The  botanist,  for  example,  can  foretell  the  form  and 
color  of  the  fruit  which  a  flower  will  produce,  provided  it  be 
not  killed  by  drought,  or  provided  a  new  and  unexpected  indi- 
vidual variety  (a  kind  of  secondary  biological  invention)  do  not 
develop.  The  physicist  can  state,  at  the  moment  a  rifle  shot  is 
discharged,  that  it  will  be  heard  in  a  given  number  of  seconds, 
at  a  given  distance,  provided  nothing  intercept  the  sound  in  its 
passage,  or  provided  a  louder  sound,  a  discharge  of  cannon,  for 


508  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

example,  be  not  heard  during  the  given  period.  Now  it  is  pre- 
cisely on  the  same  ground  that  the  sociologist  is,  strictly  speak- 
ing, a  scientist.  Given  the  centers,  the  approximate  velocities, 
and  the  tendency  to  separate  or  concurrent  motion  of  existing 
imitations,  the  sociologist  is  in  a  position  to  foretell  the  social 
conditions  of  ten  or  twenty  years  hence,  provided  no  reform  or 
political  revolution  occur  to  hinder  this  expansion  and  provided 
no  rival  centers  arise  meanwhile. 

In  this  case,  to  be  sure,  the  conditioning  of  events  is  highly 
probable, — more  probable,  perhaps,  than  in  the  others.  But  it 
is  only  a  difference  of  degree.  Besides,  let  us  observe  (as  a  matter 
that  belongs  to  the  philosophy  and  not  to  the  science  of  history), 
that  the  successful  discoveries  and  initiatives  of  the  present 
vaguely  determine  the  direction  of  those  of  the  future.  More- 
over, the  social  forces  of  any  real  importance  at  any  period  are 
not  composed  of  the  necessarily  feeble  imitations  that  have 
radiated  from  recent  inventions,  but  of  the  imitations  of  ancient 
inventions,  radiations  which  are  alike  more  intense  and  more 
widespread  because  they  have  had  the  necessary  time  in  which 
to  spread  out  and  become  established  as  habits,  customs,  or 
so-called  physiological  "  race  instincts."  1  Our  ignorance,  there- 
fore, of  the  unforeseen  discoveries  which  will  be  made  ten, 
twenty,  or  fifty  years  hence  of  the  art-inspiring  masterpieces 
which  are  to  appear,  of  the  battles  and  revolutions  and  deeds  of 
violence  which  will  be  noised  abroad,  does  not  hinder  us  from 
almost  accurately  predicting,  on  the  foregoing  hypothesis,  the 
depth  and  direction  of  the  current  of  ideas  and  aspirations  which 
our  statesmen  and  our  great  generals,  poets,  and  musicians  will 
have  to  follow  and  render  navigable,  or  stem  and  combat. 

As  examples  in  support  of  the  geometrical  progress  of  imita- 
tions, I  might  cite  statistics  of  locomotive  construction,  or  of 
the  consumption  of  coffee,  tobacco,  etc.,  from  the  time  they 
were  first  imported  to  the  time  they  began  to  overstock  the 

1  I  must  not  be  accused  of  the  absurd  idea  of  denying  in  all  of  this  the  influ- 
ence of  race  upon  social  facts.  But  I  think  that  on  account  of  the  number  of  its 
acquired  characteristics,  race  is  the  outcome,  and  not  the  source,  of  these  facts, 
and  only  in  this  hitherto  ignored  sense  does  it  appear  to  me  to  come  within  the 
special  province  of  the  sociologist. 


IMITATION  509 

market.1  I  will  mention  a  discovery  which  appears  to  be  less 
favorable  to  my  argument,  —  the  discovery  of  America.  This 
discovery  was  imitated  in  the  sense  that  the  first  voyage  from 
Europe  to  America,  which  was  conceived  of  and  executed  by 
Columbus,  came  to  be  repeated  more  and  more  frequently  by 
subsequent  navigators.  Every  variation  in  these  after  voyages 
constituted  a  little  discovery,  which  was  grafted  upon  that  of 
the  great  Genoese,  and  which,  in  turn,  found  imitators. 

I  will  take  advantage  of  this  example  to  open  a  parenthesis. 
America  might  have  been  discovered  two  centuries  earlier,  or 
two  centuries  later,  by  an  imaginative  navigator.  If  two  cen- 
turies earlier,  if  in  1292,  the  opening  out  of  a  new  world  had 
been  offered  to  Philip  the  Fair,  during  his  bouts  with  Rome  and 
his  bold  attempt  at  secularization  and  administrative  centraliza- 
tion, his  ambition  would  have  surely  been  excited,  and  the  arrival 
of  the  Modern  Age  precipitated.  Two  centuries  later,  in  1692, 
America  would  unquestionably  have  been  of  greater  value  to  the 
France  of  Henry  IV  than  to  Spain,  and  the  latter  country,  not 
having  had  this  rich  prey  to  batten  upon  for  two  hundred  years, 
would  have  been,  at  that  time,  less  rich  and  prosperous.  Who 
knows  whether,  under  the  first  hypothesis,  the  Hundred  Years' 
War  might  not  have  been  precluded  and,  under  the  second,  the 
empire  of  Charles  V  ?  At  any  rate,  the  need  of  having  colonies, 
a  need  which  ivas  both  created  and  satisfied  by  the  discovery 
of  Christopher  Columbus,  and  one  which  has  played  such  a  lead- 
ing r61e  in  the  political  life  of  Europe  since  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, would  not  have  arisen  until  the  seventeenth  century,  and,  at 
the  present  time,  South  America  would  belong  to  France,  and 
North  America  would  not  as  yet  amount  to  anything  politically. 

1  The  objection  may  be  raised  that  increasing  or  diminishing  series,  as  shown 
in  the  continuous  statistics  of  a  given  number  of  years,  are  never  regular,  and  are 
often  upset  by  checks  and  reactions.  Without  dwelling  upon  this  point,  I  may 
say  that,  in  my  opinion,  these  checks  and  reactions  are  always  indicative  of  the 
interference  of  some  new  invention,  which,  in  its  turn,  is  spread  abroad.  I  explain 
diminishing  series  in  the  same  way,  and  in  considering  them  we  must  be  careful 
not  to  infer  that  at  the  end  of  a  certain  time,  after  it  has  been  imitated  more  and 
more,  a  social  thing  tends  to  become  disimitated.  On  the  contrary,  its  tendency 
to  invade  the  world  continues  unchanged,  and  if  there  be,  not  any  disinflation, 
but  any  continuous  falling  off  of  imitation,  its  rivals  are  alone  to  blame. 


510  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

What  a  difference  to  us!  And  to  think  that  Christopher  Columbus 
succeeded  by  a  mere  hair's  breadth  in  his  enterprise  !  But  a 
truce  to  these  speculations  upon  the  contingencies  of  the  past, 
although,  in  my  opinion,  they  are  as  well  founded  and  as  signifi- 
cant as  those  of  the  future. 

Here  is  another  example,  the  most  striking  of  all.  The  Roman 
Empire  has  perished,  but,  as  has  been  well  said,  the  conquest 
of  Rome  lives  on  forever.  Through  Christianity,  Charlemagne 
extended  it  to  the  Germans ;  William  the  Conqueror  extended 
it  to  the  Anglo-Saxons ;  and  Columbus  to  America.  The  Rus- 
sians and  the  English  are  extending  it  to  Asia  and  to  Australia, 
and,  prospectively,  to  the  whole  of  Oceanica.  Already  Japan 
wishes  for  her  turn  to  be  invaded  ;  it  seems  as  if  China  alone 
would  offer  any  serious  resistance.  But  if  we  assume  that  China 
also  will  become  assimilated,  we  can  say  that  Athens  and  Rome, 
including  Jerusalem,  that  is  to  say,  the  type  of  civilization  formed 
by  the  group  of  their  combined  and  coordinated  initiatives  and 
master  thoughts,  have  conquered  the  entire  world.  All  races 
and  nationalities  will  have  contributed  to  this  unbounded  conta- 
gious imitation  of  Greco-Roman  civilization.  The  outcome  would 
certainly  have  been  different  if  Darius  or  Xerxes  had  conquered 
Greece  and  reduced  it  to  a  Persian  province ;  or  if  Islam  had 
triumphed  over  Charles  Martel  and  invaded  Europe  ;  or  if  peace- 
ful and  industrious  China  had  been  belligerent  during  the  past 
three  thousand  years,  and  had  turned  its  spirit  of  invention 
towards  the  art  of  war  as  well  as  towards  the  arts  of  peace  ;  or 
if,  when  America  was  discovered,  gunpowder  and  printing  had 
not  yet  been  invented  and  Europeans  had  proved  to  be  poorer 
fighters  than  the  Aztecs  or  Incas.  But  chance  determined  that 
the  type  to  which  we  belong  should  prevail  over  all  other  types 
of  civilization,  over  all  the  clusters  of  radiant  inventions  which 
have  flashed  out  spontaneously  in  different  parts  of  the  globe. 
Even  if  our  own  type  had  not  prevailed,  another  type  would 
certainly  have  triumphed  in  the  long  run,  for  one  type  was 
bound  to  become  universal,  since  all  laid  claim  to  universality,  — 
that  is  to  say,  since  all  tended  to  propagate  themselves  through 
imitation  in  a  geometrical  progression,  like  waves  of  light  or 
sound,  or  like  animal  or  vegetal  species. 


IMITATION  5 1 1 

Let  me  point  out  a  new  order  of  analogies.  Imitations  are 
modified  in  passing  from  one  race  or  nation  to  another,  like 
vibrations  or  living  types  in  passing  from  one  environment  to 
another.  We  see  this,  for  example,  in  the.  transition  of  certain 
words,  or  religious  myths,  or  military  secrets,  or  literary  forms, 
from  the  Hindus  to  the  Germans,  or  from  the  Latins  to  the 
Gauls.  In  certain  cases,  the  record  of  these  modifications  has 
been  sufficiently  full  to  suggest  what  their  general  and  uniform 
trend  has  been.  This  is  especially  true  of  language ;  Grimm's, 
or,  better  still,  Raynouard's,  laws  might 'well  be  called  the  laws 
of  linguistic  refraction. 

According  to  Raynouard,  when  Latin  words  come  under 
Spanish  or  Gallic  influences  they  are  consistently  and  character- 
istically transformed.  According  to  Grimm's  laws,  a  given  con- 
sonant in  German  or  English  is  equivalent  to  another  given 
consonant  in  Sanskrit  or  Greek."  This  fact  means,  at  bottom, 
that  in  passing  from  the  primitive  Aryan  to  the  Teutonic  or  Hel- 
lenic or  Hindu  environments,  the  parent  language  has  changed 
its  consonants  in  a  given  order,  substituting,  in  one  case,  an 
aspirate  for  a  hard  check,  in  another  a  hard  check  for  an 
aspirate,  etc. 

If  there  were  as  many  religions  as  there  are  languages  (and 
there  are  hardly  enough  of  these  to  give  an  adequate  basis  of 
comparison  to  certain  general  observations  that  might  be  formu- 
lated into  linguistic  laws),  and,  above  all,  if  religious  ideas  were 
as  numerous  in  every  religion  as  words  in  a  language,  we  might 
have  laws  of  mythological  refraction  analogous  to  those  of  lan- 
guage. As  it  is,  we  can  only  follow  a  given  myth  like  that  of 
Ceres  or  Apollo,  for  example,  through  the  modifications  which  have 
been  stamped  upon  it  by  the  genius  of  the  different  peoples  who 
have  adopted  it.  But  there  are  so  few  myths  to  compare  in 
this  way  that  it  is  difficult  to  see  any  appreciable  common  traits 
in  the  turns  which  they  have  been  given  by  the  same  people  at 
different  times,  or  anything  more  than  a  general  family  resem- 
blance. And  yet  have  we  not  much  to  observe  in  a  study  of  the 
forms  which  the  same  religious  ideas  have  taken  on  as  they 
passed  from  the  Vedas  to  the  doctrines  of  Brahma  or  Zoroaster, 
from  Moses  to  Christ  or  Mahomet,  or  as  they  circulated  through 


512  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  dissentient  Christian  sects  of  the  Greek,  Roman,  Anglican, 
and  Gallic  churches  ?  Perhaps  I  should  say  that  all  that  could 
be  has  already  been  observed  along  this  line,  and  that  we  have 
only  to  draw  upon  this  material. 

Art  critics  have  likewise  had  a  confused  premonition  of  the 
laws  of  artistic  refraction,  so  to  speak.  These  laws  are  peculiar 
to  every  people,  in  all  epochs,  and  belong  to  every  definite  center 
of  painting,  music,  architecture,  and  poetry,  to  Holland,  Italy, 
France,  etc.  I  will  not  press  my  point.  But  is  it  purely  meta- 
phorical and  puerile  to  say  that  Theocritus  is  refracted  in  Vergil ; 
Menander,  in  Terence  ;  Plato,  in  Cicero  ;  Euripides,  in  Racine  ? 

Another  analogy.  Interferences  occur  between  imitations,  be- 
tween social  things,  as  well  as  between  vibrations  and  between 
living  types.  When  two  waves,  two  physical  things  which  are 
pretty  much  alike,  and  which  have  spread  separately  from  two 
distinct  centers,  meet  together  in  the  same  physical  being,  in 
the  same  particle  of  matter,  the  impetus  of  each  is  increased  or 
neutralized,  as  its  direction  coincides  with,  or  is  diametrically 
opposed  to,  the  direction  of  the  other.  In  the  first  case,  a  new 
and  complex  wave  sets  in  which 'is  stronger  than  the  others  and 
which  tends  to  propagate  itself  in  turn ;  in  the  second,  struggle 
and  partial  destruction  follow,  until  one  of  the  two  rivals  has 
the  better  of  the  other.  In  the  same  way  we  know  what  happens 
when  two  specific  and  sufficiently  near 'types,  two  vital  things, 
which  have  been  reproduced  independently  of  each  other,  genera- 
tion after  generation,  come  into  mutual  contact,  not  merely  in 
one  place  (as  in  the  case  of  animals  which  fight  or  devour  one 
another,  which  would  be  a  strictly  physical  encounter),  but,  more 
than  that,  in  the  same  living  being,  in  a  germ  cell  fertilized  by 
hybrid  copulation,  the  only  kind  of  encounter  and  interference 
which  is  really  vital.  In  this  case,  either  the  offspring  has  greater 
vitality  than  its  parents  and,  being  at  the  same  time  more  fruit- 
ful and  prolific,  transmits  its  distinctive  characteristics  to  a  more 
numerous  progeny,  a  veritable,  discovery  of  life,  or  it  is  more 
puny,  and  gives  birth  to  a  few  stunted  descendants,  in  whom 
the  divorce  of  the  incompatible  characters  of  their  unnaturally 
united  progenitors  is  hastened  by  the  distinct  triumph  of  one  in 


IMITATION  513 

expelling  the  other.  In  the  same  way,  when  two  beliefs  or  two 
desires,  or  a  belief  and  a  desire, — in  short,  when  two  social  things 
(in  the  last  analysis  all  social  facts  are  beliefs  or  desires  under 
the  different  names  of  dogmas,  sentiments,  laws,  wants,  customs, 
morals,  etc.),  —  have  for  a  certain  time  traveled  their  separate 
roads  in  the  world  by  means  of  education  or  example,  i.e.  of 
imitation,  they  often  end  by  coming  into  mutual  contact.  In 
order  that  their  encounter  and  interference  may  be  really  psycho- 
logical and  social,  coexistence  in  the  same  brain  and  participa- 
tion in  the  same  state  of  mind  and  heart  is  not  only  necessary 
but,  in  addition,  one  must  present  itself  either  in  support  of  or 
in  opposition  to  the  other,  either  as  a  principle,  of  which  the  other 
is  a  corollary,  or  as  an  affirmative,  of  which  the  other  is  the  nega- 
tive. As  for  the  beliefs  and  desires  which  seem  neither  to  aid 
nor  injure,  neither  to  confirm  nor  contradict,  each  other,  they 
cannot  interfere  with  each  other  any  more  than  two  heterogene- 
ous waves  or  two  living  types  which  are  too  distant  from  each 
other  to  unite.  If  they  do  appear  to  help  or  confirm  each  other, 
they  combine  by  the  very  fact  of  this  appearance  or  perception 
into  a  new  practical  or  theoretic  discovery,  which  is,  in  turn, 
bound  to  spread  abroad,  like  its  components,  in  contagious 
imitation.  In  this  case,  there  has  been  a  gain  in  the  force  of 
desire  or  belief,  as  in  the  corresponding  cases  of  propitious 
physical  or  biological  interference  there  was  a  gain  in  motor 
power  or  vitality.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  interfering  social 
things,  theses  or  aims,  dogmas  or  interests,  convictions  or  pas- 
sions, are  mutually  hurtful  and  antagonistic  in  the  soul  of  an 
individual,  or  in  that  of  a  whole  people,  both  the  individual  and 
the  community  will  morally  stagnate  in  doubt  and  indecision, 
until  their  soul  is  rent  in  two  by  some  sudden  or  prolonged  effort, 
and  the  less  cherished  belief  or  passion  is  sacrificed.  Thus  life 
chooses  between  two  miscoupled  types.  A  particularly  impor- 
tant case  and  one  which  differs  slightly  from  the  preceding  is 
that  in  which  the  two  beliefs  or  desires,  as  well  as  the  belief  and 
the  desire,  which  interfere  happily  or  unhappily  in  the  mind  of 
an  individual,  are  not  experienced  exclusively  by  him,  but  in  part 
by  him,  and  in  part  by  one  of  his  fellows.  Here  the  interference 


514  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

consists  in  the  fact  that  the  individual  is  aware  of  the  confirma- 
tion or  disproof  of  his  own  idea  by  the  idea  of  others,  and  of  the 
advantage  or  injury  accruing  to  his  own  will  from  the  will  of 
others.  From  this,  sympathy  and  agreement,  or  antipathy  and 
war,  result.1 

But  all  of  this,  I  feel,  needs  to  be  elucidated.  Let  us  distin- 
guish between  three  hypotheses  :  the  propitious  interference  of 
twa  beliefs,  of  two  desires,  and  of  a  belief  and  a  desire  ;  and  let 
us  subdivide  each  one  of  these  divisions  as  the  subjects  of  inter- 
ference are,  or  are  not,  found  in  the  same  individual.  Later  on, 
I  shall  have  a  word  to  say  about  unpropitious  interferences. 

i.  If  a  conjecture  which  I  have  considered  fairly  probable 
comes  into  my  mind  while  I  am  reading  or  remembering  a  fact 
which  I  think  is  almost  certain,  and  if  I  suddenly  perceive  that  the 
fact  confirms  the  conjecture  of  which  it  is  a  consequence  (i.e. 
the  particular  proposition  which  expresses  the  fact  is  included  in 
the  general  proposition  which  expresses  the  conjecture),  the  con- 
jecture immediately  becomes  much  more  probable  in  my  eyes, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  fact  appears  to  me  to  be  an  absolute 
certainty.  So  that  there  is  a  gain  in  belief  "all  along  the  line.  And 

1  The  likeness  which  I  have  pointed  out  between  heredity  and  imitation  is 
verified  even  in  the  relation  of  each  of  these  two  forms  of  universal  Repetition  to 
its  special  form  of  Creation  or  Invention.  As  long  as  a  society  is  young,  vigorous, 
and  progressive,  inventions,  new  projects,  and  successful  initiatives  follow  one 
another  in  rapid  succession,  and  hasten  social  changes ;  then,  when  the  inventive 
sap  is  exhausted,  imitation  still  continues  upon  its  course.  India,  China,  and  the 
late  Roman  Empire  are  examples  in  point.  Now  this  is  also  true  of  the  world  of 
life.  For  example,  M.  Gaudry  says  in  referring  to  the  crinoidea  (echinoderms) 
[Enchainement  du  monde  animal  (secondary  period)] :  "  They  have  lost  that  mar- 
velous diversity  of  form  which  was  one  of  the  luxuries  of  the  primary  period ;  no 
longer  having  the  power  of  much  self-mutation,  they  still  retain  that  of  producing 
individuals  like  themselves:.1''  But  this  is  not  always  so.  In  the  geological  epochs, 
certain  families  or  types  of  animals  disappeared  after  their  most  brilliant  period. 
This  was  the  case  with  the  ammonite,  that  wonderful  fossil  which  flourished  in 
such  exuberant  variety,  during  the  secondary  period,  and  which  was,  subsequently, 
annihilated  forever.  This  was  also  the  case  with  those  brief  and  brilliant  civiliza- 
tions which,  like  ephemeral  stars,  glittered  for  a  day  in  the  sky  of  history,  and  were 
then  suddenly  extinguished.  I  refer  to  the  Persia  of  Cyrus,  to  some  of  the  Greek 
republics,  to  the  south  of  France  at  the  time  of  the  war  of  the  Albigenses,  to  the 
Italian  republics,  etc.  -  When  the  creative  power  of  these  civilizations  was  worn 
out,  not  even  the  power  to  reproduce  themselves  remained.  In  fact,  in  most  cases 
they  would  have  been  precluded  from  doing  so  by  their  own  violent  destruction. 


IMITATION  5 1 5 

the  perception  of  this  logical  inclusion  is  a  discovery.  Newton 
discovered  nothing  more  than  this  when,  having  brought  his 
conjectured  law  of  gravitation  face  to  face  with  the  calculation  of 
the  distance  from  the  moon  to  the  earth,  he  perceived  that  this 
fact  confirmed  his  hypothesis.  Let  us  suppose  that,  for  a  cen- 
tury long,  an  entire  people  is  led  by  one  of  its  teachers,  by 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  for  example,  or  by  Arnaud  or  Bossuet,  to 
prove,  or  to  think  that  it  is  proving,  that  a  like  agreement  exists 
between  its  religious  dogmas  and  the  contemporaneous  state  of 
its  sciences.  Then  we  shall  see  such  an  overflowing  river  of 
faith  as  that  which  fructified  the  logical  and  inventive  and  war- 
like thirteenth  and  the  Jansenist  and  Gallican  seventeenth  centu- 
ries. A  harmony  like  this  is  nothing  less  than  a  discovery.  The 
Summa,  the  catechism  of  Port  Royal  and  the  French  clergy,  and 
all  the  philosophic  systems  of  the  period,  from  Descartes  him- 
self to  Leibnitz,  are,  in  different  degrees,  its  various  expressions. 
Now  let  us  somewhat  modify  our  general  proposition.  Let  us 
suppose  that  I  am  inclined  to  indorse  a  principle  which  the 
friend  with  whom  I  am  talking  absolutely  refuses  to  accept.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  tells  me  certain  facts  which  he  thinks  are 
true,  but  which  I  take  to  be  unverified.  Subsequently,  it  seems 
to  me,  or  rather,  it  flashes  upon  me,  that  if  these  facts  were 
proved,  they  would  fully  confirm  my  principle.  From  now  on, 
I  also  am  inclined  to  credit  them ;  but  the  only  gain  in  belief 
has  been  one  in  regard  to  them,  not  in  regard  to  my  principle. 
Besides,  this  kind  of  discovery  is  incomplete ;  it  will  have  no 
social  effect  until  my  friend  either  succeeds  in  imparting  to  me, 
through  proofs,  his  belief,  which  is  greater  than  mine,  in  the 
reality  of  the  facts,  or  I  myself  can  prove  to  him  the  truth  of 
my  principle.  Here  is  precisely  the  advantage  of  a  wide  and 
free  intellectual  commerce. 

2.  The  first  mediaeval  merchant  who  was  both  vain  and  avari- 
cious and  who,  in  his  unwillingness  to  forego  either  commercial 
wealth  or  social  position,  came  to  perceive  the  possibility  of  mak- 
ing avarice  serve  the  ends  of  vanity,  through  the  purchase  of  a 
title  of  nobility  for  himself  and  his  family,  thought  he  had  made 
a  fine  discovery.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  numerous 


516  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

imitators.  Is  it  not  true  that  after  this  unhoped-for  prospect 
both  his  passions  redoubled  in  strength  ?  Did  not  his  avarice 
increase  because  gold  had  gained  a  new  value  in  his  eyes, 
and  his  vanity,  because  the  object  of  his  ambitious  and  hitherto- 
despaired-of  dream  had  come  within  reach  ?  To  give,  perhaps, 
a  more  modern  illustration,  the  first  lawyer  who  reversed  the 
usual  order  of  things  by  going  into  politics  in  order  to  make  his 
fortune,  introduced  neither  a  bad  idea  nor  an  ineffective  initia- 
tive. Let  us  take  other  instances.  Suppose  that  I  am  in  love, 
and  that  I  also  have  a  passion  for  rhyming.  I  turn  my  love  to 
inspiring  my  metromania.  My  love  quickens  and  my  rhyming 
mania  is  intensified.  How  many  poetical  works  have  originated 
in  this  kind  of  an  interference  !  Suppose,  again,  that  I  am  a 
philanthropist,  and  that  I  like  notoriety.  In  this  case,  I  will 
strive  to  distinguish  myself  in  order  to  do  more  good  to  my 
fellows,  and  I  will  strive  to  be  useful  to  them  in  order  to  make  a 
name  for  myself,  etc.  In  history  the  same  phenomenon  occurs. 
After  a  long  period  of  mutual  opposition,  Christian  zeal  com- 
bined with  the  contemporary  passion  for  warlike  expeditions 
and  produced  the  outbreak  of  the  Crusades.  The  invasion  of 
Islam,  the  Jacqueries  of  '89  and  of  the  years  following,  and  all 
revolutions  in  which  so  many  base  passions  are  yoked  to  noble 
ones,  are  notable  examples.  But,  happily,  a  still  more  contagious 
example  was  set  in  the  beginnings  of  social  life  by  the  first  man 
who  said  :  "I  am  hungry  and  my  neighbor  is  cold ;  I  will  offer 
him  this  garment,  which  is  useless  to  me,  in  exchange  for  some 
of  the  food  which  he  has  in  excess,  and  so  my  need  of  food  will 
help  satisfy  his  need  of  clothing,  and  vice  versa.  In  this  excellent 
and  very  simple,  but,  for  that  time,  highly  original,  idea,  indus- 
try, commerce,  money,  law,  and  all  the  arts  originated.  (I  do  not 
date  the  birth  of  society  from  this  idea,  for  society  undoubtedly 
existed  before  exchange.  It  began  on  the  day  when  one  man 
first  copied  another.) 

Let  us  note  that  all  new  forms  of  professional  work,  that  all 
new  crafts,  have  arisen  from  analogous  discoveries.  These  dis- 
coveries have  generally  been  anonymous,  but  they  are  none  the 
less  positive  and  significant. 


IMITATION  5  1 7 

3.  In  historical  importance,  however,  no  mental  interference 
equals  that  of  a  desire  and  a  belief.  But  the  numerous  cases  in 
which  a  conviction  or  opinion  fastens  itself  upon  an  inclination, 
and  affects  it  merely  through  inspiring  another  desire,  must  not 
be  included  in  this  category.  After  these  cases  have  been 
eliminated,  there  still  remains  a  considerable  number  in  which 
the  supervening  idea  acts  directly  upon  the  desire  it  has  fallen 
in  with  and  stimulated.  Suppose,  for  example,  that  I  would 
like  to  be  an  orator  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  I  am 
straightway  persuaded  by  the  compliment  of  a  friend  that  I 
have  recently  displayed  true  oratorical  talent.  This  conviction 
enhances  my  ambition,  and  my  ambition  itself  contributed  to 
my  conviction.  For  the  same  reason,  there  is  no  historical 
error,  no  atrocious  or  extravagant  calumny  or  madness,  which 
is  not  readily  entertained  by  the  very  political  passion  which  it 
helps  to  inflame.  A  belief  will  also  stimulate  a  desire,  now  by 
making  its  object  seem  more  attainable,  now  by  stamping  it 
with  its  approval.  It  also  happens,  to  complete  our  analysis, 
that  a  man  may  realize  that  his  own  scheme  will  be  helped  by 
the  belief  of  others,  although  he  may  have  no  share  in  their 
belief,  nor  they  in  his  scheme.  Such  a  realization  is  a  find  that 
many  an  impostor  has  exploited  and  still  exploits. 

This  special  kind  of  interferences  and  the  important  unnamed 
discoveries  which  result  from  them  are  to  be  counted  among 
the  chief  forces  which  rule  the  world.  What  was  the  patriotism 
of  Greek  or  Roman  but  a  passion  nourished  by  an  illusion  and 
vice  versa  ?  What  was  it  but  ambition,  avarice,  and  love  of  fame 
nourished  by  an  exaggerated  belief  in  their  own  superiority,  by 
the  anthropocentric  prejudice,  the  mistake  of  imagining  that  this 
little  point  in  space,  the  earth,  was  the  universe,  and  that  on 
this  little  point  Rome  or  Athens  was  alone  worthy  of  the  gods' 
consideration  ?  What  are,  in  large  part,  the  fanaticism  of  the 
Arab,  the  proselytism  of  the  Christian,  and  the  propagandism 
of  Jacobin  and  revolutionary  doctrines  but  prodigious  outgrowths 
of  illusion-fed  passions  and  passion-fed  illusions  ?  And  these 
forces  always  arise  from  one  person,  from  a  single  center,  long 
in  advance,  to  be  sure,  of  the  moment  when  they  break  forth 


518  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  take  on  historical  importance.  An  enthusiast,  eaten  up 
with  an  impotent  desire  for  conquest,  or  immortality,  or  human 
regeneration,  chances  upon  some  idea  which  opens  an  unhoped- 
for door  to  his  aspirations.  The  idea  may  be  that  of  the  Resur- 
rection or  the  Millennium,  the  dogma  of  popular  sovereignty  or 
some  other  formula  of  the  Social  Contract.  He  embraces  the 
idea,  it  exalts  him,  and  behold,  a  new  apostle !  In  this  way  a 
political  or  religious  contagion  is  spread  abroad.  In  this  way 
a  whole  people  may  be  converted  to  Christianity,  to  Islam,  and, 
to-morrow,  perhaps,  to  socialism. 

In  the  preceding  paragraphs  we  have  discussed  only  inter- 
ference-combinations, interferences  which  result  in  discovery  and 
gain  and  add  to  the  two  psychological  quantities  of  desire  and 
belief.  But  that  long  sequence  of  operations  in  moral  arithme- 
tic, which  we  call  history,  ushers  in  at  least  as  many  interference- 
conflicts.  When  these  subjective  antagonisms  arise  between  the 
desires  and  beliefs  of  a  single  individual,  and  only  in  this  case, 
there  is  an  absolute  diminution  in  the  sum  of  those  quantities. 
When  they  occur  obscurely,  here  and  there,  in  isolated  individ- 
uals, they  pass  by  unnoticed  except  by  psychologists.  Then  we 
have  (i)  on  the  one  side,  the  deceptions  and  gradual  doubts  of 
bold  theorists  and  political  prophets  as  they  come  to  see  facts 
giving  the  lie  to  their  speculations  and  ridiculing  their  predic- 
tions, and  the  intellectual  weakening  of  sincere  and  well-informed 
believers  who  perceive  the  contradiction  between  their  science 
and  their  religion  or  philosophic  systems ;  and,  on  the  other 
side,  the  private  and  juristic  and  parliamentary  discussions  in 
which  belief  is  rekindled  instead  of  smothered.  Again,  we  have 
(2)  on  the  one  side,  the  enforced  and  bitter  inaction,  the  slow 
suicide  of  a  man  struggling  between  two  incompatible  aptitudes 
or  inclinations,  between  scientific  ardor  and  literary  aspirations, 
between  love  and  ambition,  between  pride  and  indolence,  and, 
on  the  other  side,  those  various  rivalries  and  competitions 
which  put  every  spring  into  action,  —  what  we  call  in  these 
days  the  struggle  for  existence.  Finally,  we  have  (3)  on  the 
one  side,  the  malady  of  despair,  a  state  of  intense  longing  and 
intense  self-doubt,  the  abyss  of  lovers  and  of  those  weary  with 


IMITATION  519 

waiting,  or  the  anguish  of  scruple  and  remorse,  the  feeling  of  a 
soul  which  thinks  ill  of  the  object  of  its  desire,  or  well  of  the 
object  of  its  aversion ;  and,  on  the  other  side,  the  irritating 
resistance  which  is  made  to  the  undertakings  and  eager  pas- 
sions of  children  and  innovators  by  parents  who  are  convinced 
of  their  danger  and  impracticability  and  by  people  of  prudence 
and  experience. 

When  these  same  phenomena  (at  bottom  they  are  always  the 
same)  are  enacted  upon  a  large  scale  and  multiplied  by  a  large 
and  powerful  social  current  of  imitation,  they  attain  historical 
importance.  Under  other  names,  they  become  (i),  on  the  one 
hand,  the  enervating  skepticism  of  a  people  caught  between  two 
hostile  churches  or  religions  or  between  the  contradictions  of 
its  priests  and  its  scientists ;  on  the  other,  the  religious  wars 
which  are  waged  by  one  people  against  another  merely  because 
of  differences  in  religious  belief ;  (2)  on  the  one  hand,  the  fail- 
ure and  inertia  of  a  people  or  class  which  has  created  for  itself 
artificial  passions  contrary  to  its  natural  instincts  (i.e.  at  bottom, 
to  passions  which  also  began  by  being  artificial,  by  being 
adopted  from  foreign  sources,  but  which  are  much  older  than 
the  former  passions),  or  desires  inconsistent  with  its  permanent 
interests,  the  desire  for  peace  and  comfort,  for  example,  when  a 
redoubling  of  military  spirit  was  indispensable ;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  majority  of  external  political  wars ;  (3)  on  the  one 
hand,  civil  warfare  and  oppositions,  strictly  speaking  struggles 
between  conservatives  and  revolutionists ;  on  the  other,  the  de- 
spair of  a  people  or  class  which  is  gradually  sinking  back  into 
the  historical  oblivion  whence  it  had  been  drawn  by  some  out- 
burst of  faith  and  enthusiasm,  or  the  irritation  and  oppression 
of  a  society  distressed  by  a  conflict  between  its  ancient  maxims 
and  traditions  and  its  new  aspirations,  between  Christianity  and 
chivalry,  for  example,  and  industrialism  and  utilitarianism. 

Now  in  the  case  of  both  individuals  and  societies,  the  doleful 
states  of  skepticism,  inertia,  and  despair,  and,  still  more,  the 
violent  and  more  painful  states  of  dispute,  combat,  and  opposi- 
tion, are  quick  to  push  man  on  to  their  own  undoing.  Neverthe- 
less, although  man  often  succeeds  in  delivering  himself  for  long 


520 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


periods  from  the  former,  which  imply  the  immediate  weakening 
of  his  two  master  forces,  he  never  overcomes  the  latter,  or  if  he 
does  free  himself  from  them  it  is  merely  to  fall  into  them  again, 
since  up  to  a  certain  point  they  bring  with  them  momentary 
gains  of  belief  and  desire.  Whence  the  interminable  dissensions, 
rivalries,  and  contradictions  which  befall  mankind  and  which 
each  one  can  settle  for  himself  only  by  adopting  some  logical 
system  of  thought  and  conduct.  Whence  the  impossibility,  or 
the  seeming  impossibility,  of  extirpating  the  wars  and  litigations 
from  which  everybody  suffers,  although  the  subjective  strife  of 
desires  and  opinions  which  afflicts  some  people  generally  ends  for 
them  in  definite  treaties  of  peace.  Whence  the  endless  rebirth 
of  the  eternal  hydra-headed  social  question,  a  question  which  is 
not  peculiar  to  our  own  time,  but  which  belongs  to  all  time,  for 
it  does  not  investigate  into  the  outcome  of  the  debilitating,  but 
into  that  of  the  violent,  states  of  desire  and  belief.  In  other 
words,  it  does  not  ask  whether  science  or  religion  will,  or  should, 
ultimately  prevail  in  the  great  majority  of  minds  ;  whether  desire 
for  social  order  or  rebellious  outbursts  of  social  envy,  pride,  and 
hatred  will,  or  should,  ultimately  prove  the  stronger  in  human 
hearts ;  whether  a  positive  and  courageous  resignation  of  old 
pretensions  or,  on  the  contrary,  a  new  outburst  of  hope  and 
self-confidence  will  help  our  sometime  ruling  classes  to  rid  them- 
selves to  their  honor  of  their  present  torpor ;  whether  the  old 
morality  will  have  the  right  and  the  power  to  influence  society 
again,  or  whether  the  society  of  the  future  will  legitimately 
establish  a  code  of  honor  and  morality  in  its  own  likeness. 
The  solution  of  these  problems  will  not  be  long  delayed,  and  it 
is  not  difficult,  even  at  present,  to  foresee  its  nature.  Whereas 
the  problems  which  really  constitute  the  social  question  are 
arduous  and  difficult.  The  problems  are  these  :  Is  it  a  good  or 
a  bad  thing  for  a  complete  intellectual  unanimity  to  be  estab- 
lished through  the  expulsion  or  the  more  or  less  tyrannical  con- 
version of  a  dissenting  minority,  and  will  this  ever  come  about  ? 
Is  it  a  good  or  a  bad  thing  for  commercial  or  professional  or  per- 
sonal competition  between  individuals,  as  well  as  political  and 
military  competition  between  societies,  to  come  to  be  suppressed, 


IMITATION  521 

the  one  through  the  much-dreamed-of  organization  of  labor,  or, 
at  least,  through  state  socialism,  and  the  other  through  a  vast, 
universal  confederation,  or,  at  least,  through  a  new  European 
equilibrium,  the  first  step  towards  the  United  States  of  Europe  ? 
Does  the  future  hold  this  in  store  for  us  ?  Is  it  a  good  or  a  bad 
thing  for  a  strong  and  free  social  authority,  an  absolutely  sov- 
ereign authority,  capable  of  grandiose  things,  as  philanthropic 
and  intelligent  as  possible,  to  arise,  untrammeled  by  outside 
control  or  resistance,  as  a  supreme  imperial  or  constitutional 
power  in  the  hands  of  a  single  party  or  a  single  people  ?  Have 
we  any  such  prospect  in  view  ? 

This  is  the  question,  and  stated  thus  it  is  a  truly  redoubtable 
one.  Mankind,  as  well  as  the  individual  man,  always  moves  in 
the  direction  of  the  greatest  truth  and  power,  of  the  greatest 
sum  of  conviction  and  confidence,  in  a  word,  of  the  greatest 
attainable  belief ;  and  we  may  question  whether  this  maximum 
can  be  reached  through  the  development  of  discussion,  competi- 
tion, and  criticism,  or,  inversely,  through  their  suppression  and 
through  the  boundless  opening  out  through  imitation  of  a  single 
expanding  and,  at  the  same  time,  compact  thought  or  volition. 

Additional  References: 

Jeremy  Bentham,  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation,  chaps,  i  and  ii. 
Lester  F.  Ward,  The  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization.  G.  Tarde,  Social  Laws. 
G.  Tarde,  La  Logique  Sociale.  Gustav  Le  Bon,  The  Crowd.  Gustav  Le  Bon, 
The  Psychology  of  Peoples.  J.  Mark  Baldwin,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpre- 
tations. J.  Mark  Baldwin,  Mental  Development  in  the  Child  and  the  Race. 
John  Fiske,  The  Destiny  of  Man.  E.  A.  Ross,  Social  Control. 


C.  THE  SOCIAL  AND  ECONOMIC  FACTORS 


XXII 

INQUIRY  INTO  THE   INFLUENCE  EXERCISED  BY 
RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT1 

By  applying  to  the  history  of  man  those  methods  of  inves- 
tigation which  have  been  found  successful  in  other  branches 
of  knowledge,  and  by  rejecting  all  preconceived  notions  which 
would  not  bear  the  test  of  those  methods,  we  have  arrived  at 
certain  results,  the  heads  of  which  it  may  now  be  convenient  to 
recapitulate.  We  have  seen  that  our  actions,  being  solely  the 
result  of  internal  and  external  agencies,  must  be  explicable  by 
the  laws  of  those  agencies,  —  that  is  to  say,  by  mental  laws  and 
by  physical  laws.  We  have  also  seen  that  mental  laws  are,  in 
Europe,  more  powerful  than  physical  laws  ;  and  that,  in  the 
progress  of  civilization,  their  superiority  is  constantly  increas- 
ing, because  advancing  knowledge  multiplies  the  resources  of 
the  mind,  but  leaves  the  old  resources  of  nature  stationary. 
On  this  account  we  have  treated  the  mental  laws  as  being  the 
great  regulators  of  progress  ;  and  we  have  looked  at  the  physical 
laws  as  occupying  a  subordinate  place,  and  as  merely  display- 
ing themselves  in  occasional  disturbances,  the  force  and  fre- 
quency of  which  have  been  long  declining,  and  are  now,  on  a 
large  average,  almost  inoperative.  Having  by  this  means  resolved 
the  study  of  what  may  be  called  the  dynamics  of  society  into  the 
study  of  the  laws  of  the  mind,  we  have  subjected  these  last  to 
a  similar  analysis ;  and  we  have  found  that  they  consist  of  two 
parts,  namely,  moral  laws  and  intellectual  laws.  By  comparing 
these  two  parts,  we  have  clearly  ascertained  the  vast  superiority 
of  the  intellectual  laws ;  and  we  have  seen  that  as  the  progress 

1  From  Buckle's  History  of  Civilization  in  England,  chap.  v. 
522 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      523 

of  civilization  is  marked  by  the  triumph  of  the  mental  laws  over 
the  physical,  just  so  is  it  marked  by  the  triumph  of  the  intellec- 
tual laws  over  the  moral  ones.  This  important  inference  rests  on 
two  distinct  arguments.  First,  that  moral  truths  being  stationary, 
and  intellectual  truths  being  progressive,  it  is  highly  improbable 
that  the  progress  of  society  should  be  due  to  moral  knowledge, 
which  for  many  centuries  has  remained  the  same,  rather  than  to 
intellectual  knowledge,  which  for  many  centuries  has  been  inces- 
santly advancing.  The  other  argument  consists  in  the  fact,  that 
the  two  greatest  evils  known  to  mankind  have  not  been  dimin- 
ished by  moral  improvement,  but  have  been,  and  still  are,  yield- 
ing to  the  influence  of  intellectual  discoveries.  From  all  this 
it  evidently  follows,  that  if  we  wish  to  ascertain  the  conditions 
which  regulate  the  progress  of  modern  civilization,  we  must  seek 
them  in  the  history  of  the  amount  and  diffusion  of  intellectual 
knowledge ;  and  we  must  consider  physical  phenomena  and 
moral  principles  as  causing,  no  doubt,  great  aberrations  in  short 
periods,  but  in  long  periods  correcting  and  balancing  themselves, 
and  thus  leaving  the  intellectual  laws  to  act  uncontrolled  by 
these  inferior  and  subordinate  agents. 

Such  is  the  conclusion  to  which  we  have  been  led  by  succes- 
sive analyses,  and  on  which  we  now  take  our  stand.  The  actions 
of  individuals  are  greatly  affected  by  their  moral  feelings  and  by 
their  passions,  but  these  being  antagonistic  to  the  passions  and  feel- 
ings of  other  individuals,  are  balanced  by  them ;  so  that  their  effect 
is,  in  the  great  average  of  human  affairs,  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  and 
the  total  actions  of  mankind,  considered  as  a  whole,  are  left  to  be 
regulated  by  the  total  knowledge  of  which  mankind  is  possessed. 
And  of  the  way  in  which  individual  feeling  and  individual  caprice 
are  thus  absorbed  and  neutralized,  we  find  a  clear  illustration  in 
the  facts  already  brought  forward  respecting  the  history  of  crime. 
For  by  those  facts  it  is  decisively  proved  that  the  amount  of 
crime  committed  in  a  country  is,  year  after  year,  reproduced  with 
the  most  startling  uniformity,  not  being  in  the  least  affected  by 
those  capricious  and  personal  feelings  to  which  human  actions 
are  too  often  referred.  But  if  instead  of  examining  the  history 
of  crime  year  by  year  we  were  to  examine  it  month  by  month, 


524  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

we  should  find  less  regularity  ;  and  if  we  were  to  examine  it  hour 
by  hour,  we  should  find  no  regularity  at  all ;  neither  would  its 
regularity  be  seen  if,  instead  of  the  criminal  records  of  a  whole 
country,  we  only  knew  those  of  a  single  street,  or  of  a  single 
family.  This  is  because  the  great  social  laws  by  which  crime  is 
governed  can  be  perceived  only  after  observing  great  numbers  or 
long  periods  ;  but  in  a  small  number  and  a  short  period  the  indi- 
vidual moral  principle  triumphs,  and  disturbs  the  operation  of  the 
larger  and  intellectual  law.  While,  therefore,  the  moral  feelings 
by  which  a  man  is  urged  to  commit  a  crime,  or  to  abstain  from  it, 
will  produce  an  immense  effect  on  the  amount  of  his  own  crimes, 
they  will  produce  no  effect  on  the  amount  of  crimes  committed 
by  the  society  to  which  he  belongs,  because,  in  the  long  run, 
they  are  sure  to  be  neutralized  by  opposite  moral  feelings,  which 
cause  in  other  men  an  opposite  conduct.  Just  in  the  same  way 
we  are  all  sensible  that  moral  principles  do  affect  nearly  the 
whole  of  our  actions ;  but  we  have  incontrovertible  proof  that 
they  produce  not  the  least  effect  on  mankind  in  the  aggregate,  or 
even  on  men  in  very  large  masses,  provided  that  we  take  the  pre- 
caution of  studying  social  phenomena  for  a  period  sufficiently 
long,  and  on  a  scale  sufficiently  great,  to  enable  the  superior  laws 
to  come  into  uncontrolled  operation. 

The  totality  of  human  actions  being  thus,  from  the  highest 
point  of  view,  governed  by  the  totality  of  human  knowledge, 
it  might  seem  a  simple  matter  to  collect  the  evidence  of  the 
knowledge,  and,  by  subjecting  it  to  successive  generalizations, 
ascertain  the  whole  of  the  laws  which  regulate  the  progress  of  civil- 
ization. And  that  this  will  be  eventually  done  I  do  not  entertain 
the  slightest  doubt.  But,  unfortunately,  history  has  been  written 
by  men  so  inadequate  to  the  great  task  they  have  undertaken 
that  few  of  the  necessary  materials  have  yet  been  brought  to- 
gether. Instead  of  telling  us  those  things  which  alone  have  any 
value  ;  instead  of  giving  us  information  respecting  the  progress 
of  knowledge,  and  the  way  in  which  mankind  has  been  affected 
by  the  diffusion  of  that  knowledge,  —  instead  of  these  things, 
the  vast  majority  of  historians  fill  their  works  with  the  most 
trifling  and  miserable  details :  personal  anecdotes  of  kings  and 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      525 

courts  ;  interminable  relations  of  what  was  said  by  one  minister, 
and  what  was  thought  by  another ;  and,  what  is  worse  than  all, 
long  accounts  of  campaigns,  battles,  and  sieges,  very  interest- 
ing to  those  engaged  in  them,  but  to  us  utterly  useless,  because 
they  neither  furnish  new  truths  nor  do  they  supply  the  means 
by  which  new  truths  may  be  discovered.  This  is  the  real  impedi- 
ment which  now  stops  our  advance.  It  is  this  want  of  judgment 
and  this  ignorance  of  what  is  most  worthy  of  selection  which 
deprive  us  of  materials  that  ought  long  since  to  have  been  accu- 
mulated, arranged,  and  stored  up  for  future  use.  In  other  great 
branches  of  knowledge  observation  has  preceded  discovery;  first 
the  facts  have  been  registered,  and  then  their  laws  have  been 
found.  But  in  the  study  of  the  history  of  man,  the  important  facts 
have  been  neglected,  and  the  unimportant  ones  preserved.  The 
consequence  is,  that  whoever  now  attempts  to  generalize  his- 
torical phenomena  must  collect  the  facts  as  well  as  conduct  the 
generalization.  He  finds  nothing  ready  to  his  hand.  He  must 
be  the  mason  as  well  as  the  architect ;  he  must  not  only  scheme 
the  edifice  but  likewise  excavate  the  quarry.  The  necessity  of 
performing  this  double  labor  entails  upon  the  philosopher  such 
enormous  drudgery  that  the  limits  of  an  entire  life  are  unequal 
to  the  task ;  and  history,  instead  of  being  ripe,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
for  complete  and  exhaustive  generalizations,  is  still  in  so  crude 
and  informal  a  state  that  not  the  most  determined  and  protracted 
industry  will  enable  any  one  to  comprehend  the  really  important 
actions  of  mankind,  during  even  so  short  a  period  as  two  succes- 
sive centuries. 

On  account  of  these  things,  I  have  long  since  abandoned  my 
original  scheme ;  and  I  have  reluctantly  determined  to  write 
the  history  not  of  general  civilization  but  of  the  civilization  of 
a  single  people.  While,  however,  by  this  means  we  curtail  the 
field  of  inquiry,  we  unfortunately  diminish  the  resources  of  which 
the  inquiry  is  possessed.  For  although  it  is  perfectly  true  that  the 
totality  of  human  actions,  if  considered  in  long  periods,  depends 
on  the  totality  of  human  knowledge,  it  must  be  allowed  that  this 
great  principle,  when  applied  only  to  one  country,  loses  something 
of  its  original  value.  The  more  we  diminish  our  observations, 


526  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  greater  becomes  the  uncertainty  of  the  average ;  in  other 
words,  the  greater  the  chance  of  the  operation  of  the  larger  laws 
being  troubled  by  the  operation  of  the  smaller.  The  interfer- 
ence of  foreign  governments ;  the  influence  exercised  by  the 
opinions,  literature,  and  customs  of  a  foreign  people  ;  their  inva- 
sions, perhaps  even  their  conquests;  the  forcible  introduction  by 
them  of  new  religions,  new  laws,  and  new  manners,  —  all  these 
things  are  perturbations  which,  in  a  view  of  universal  history, 
equalize  each  other,  but  which,  in  any  one  country,  are  apt  to 
disturb  the  natural  march,  and  thus  render  the  movements  of 
civilization  more  difficult  to  calculate.  The  manner  in  which  I 
have  endeavored  to  meet  this  difficulty  will  be  presently  stated ; 
but  what  I  first  wish  to  point  out  are  the  reasons  which  have 
induced  me  to  select  the  history  of  England  as  more  important 
than  any  other,  and  therefore  as  the  most  worthy  of  being  sub- 
jected to  a  complete  and  philosophic  investigation. 

Now  it  is  evident  that  inasmuch  as  the  great  advantage  of 
studying  past  events  consists  in  the  possibility  of  ascertaining 
the  laws  by  which  they  were  governed,  the  history  of  any  people 
will  become  more  valuable  in  proportion  as  their  movements  have 
been  least  disturbed  by  agencies  not  arising  from  themselves. 
Every  foreign  or  external  influence  which  is  brought  to  bear  upon 
a  nation  is  an  interference  with  its  natural  development,  and 
therefore  complicates  the  circumstances  we  seek  to  investigate. 
To  simplify  complications  is,  in  all  branches  of  knowledge,  the 
first  essential  of  success.  This  is  very  familiar  to  the  cultivators 
of  physical  science,  who  are  often  able  by  a  single  experiment 
to  discover  a  truth  which  innumerable  observations  had  vainly 
searched  ;  the  reason  being  that  by  experimenting  on  phenom- 
ena we  can  disentangle  them  from  their  complications ;  and  thus 
isolating  them  from  the  interference  of  unknown  agencies,  we 
leave  them,  as  it  were,  to  run  their  own  course,  and  disclose 
the  operation  of  their  own  law. 

This,  then,  is  the  true  standard  by  which  we  must  measure 
the  value  of  the  history  of  any  nation.  The  importance  of  the 
history  of  a  country  depends  not  upon  the  splendor  of  its  ex- 
ploits but  upon  the  degree  to  which  its  actions  are  due  to 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      527 

causes  springing  out  of  itself.  If,  therefore,  we  could  find  some 
civilized  people  who  had  worked  out  their  civilization  entirely 
by  themselves,  who  had  escaped  all  foreign  influence,  and  who 
had  been  neither  benefited  nor  retarded  by  the  personal  pecul- 
iarities of  their  rulers,  —  the  history  of  such  a  people  would  be 
of  paramount  importance,  because  it  would  present  a  condition 
of  normal  and  inherent  development ;  it  would  show  the  laws  of 
progress  acting  in  a  state  of  isolation ;  it  would  be,  in  fact,  an 
experiment  ready  made,  and  would  possess  all  the  value  of  that 
artificial  contrivance  to  which  natural  science  is  so  much  indebted. 
To  find  such  a  people  as  this  is  obviously  impossible-;  but  the 
duty  of  the  philosophic  historian  is  to  select  for  his  special  study 
the  country  in  which  the  conditions  have  been  most  closely  fol- 
lowed. Now  it  will  be  generally  admitted  not  only  by  ourselves 
but  by  intelligent  foreigners  that  in  England,  at  all  events,  during 
the  last  three  centuries  this  has  been  done  more  constantly  and 
more  successfully  than  in  any  other  country.  I  say  nothing  of 
the  number  of  our  discoveries,  the  brilliancy  of  our  literature,  or 
the  success  of  our  arms.  These  are  invidious  topics ;  and  other 
nations  may  perhaps  deny  to  us  those  superior  merits  which  we 
are  apt  to  exaggerate.  But  I  take  up  this  single  position,  that 
of  all  European  countries  England  is  the  one  where,  during  the 
longest  period,  the  government  has  been  most  quiescent,  and 
the  people  most  active  ;  where  popular  freedom  has  been  settled 
on  the  widest  basis  ;  where  each  man  is  most  able  to  say  what 
he  thinks,  and  do  what  he  likes ;  where  every  one  can  follow  his 
own  bent,  and  propagate  his  own  opinions  ;  where,  religious  per- 
secutions being  little  known,  the  play  and  flow  of  the  human 
mind  may  be  clearly  seen,  unchecked  by  those  restraints  to 
which  it  is  elsewhere  subjected ;  where  the  profession  of  heresy 
is  least  dangerous,  and  the  practice  of  dissent  most  common  ; 
where  hostile  creeds  flourish  side  by  side,  and  rise  and  decay 
without  disturbance,  according  to  the  wants  of  the  people,  un- 
affected by  the  wishes  of  the  church,  and  uncontrolled  by  the 
authority  of  the  state ;  where  all  interests,  and  all  classes,  both 
spiritual  and  temporal,  are  most  left  to  take  care  of  themselves  ; 
where  that  meddlesome  doctrine  called  Protection  was  first 


528  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

attacked,  and  where  alone  it  has  been  destroyed  ;  and  where,  in 
a  word,  those  dangerous  extremes  to  which  interference  gives 
rise  having  been  avoided,  despotism  and  rebellion  are  equally  rare, 
and  concession  being  recognized  as  the  groundwork  of  policy, 
the  national  progress  has  been  least  disturbed  by  the  power  of 
privileged  classes,  by  the  influence  of  particular  sects,  or  by  the 
violence  of  arbitrary  rulers. 

That  these  are  the  characteristics  of  English  history  is  noto- 
rious ;  to  some  men  a  matter  of  boast,  to  others  of  regret.  And 
when  to  these  circumstances  we  add  that  England,  owing  to  its 
insular  formation,1  was  until  the  middle  of  the  last  century  rarely 
visited  by  foreigners,  it  becomes  evident  that  in  our  progress  as 
a  people  we  have  been  less  affected  than  any  other  by  the  two 
main  sources  of  interference,  namely,  the  authority  of  govern- 
ment and  the  influence  of  foreigners.  In  the  sixteenth  century 
it  became  a  fashion  among  the  English  nobility  to  travel  abroad;2 
but  it  was  by  no  means  the  fashion  for  foreign  nobility  to  travel 
in  England.  In  the  seventeenth  century  the  custom  of  traveling 
for  amusement  spread  so  much  that  among  the  rich  and  idle 
classes  there  were  few  Englishmen  who  did  not,  at  least  once  in 
their  life,  cross  the  Channel;  while  the  same  classes  in  other 
countries,  partly  because  they  were  less  wealthy,  partly  from  an 
inveterate  dislike  to  the  sea,  hardly  ever  entered  our  island  unless 
compelled  to  do  so  on  some  particular  business.  The  result  was 
that  in  other  countries,  and  particularly  in  France  and  Italy,  the 
inhabitants  of  the  great  cities  became  gradually  accustomed  to 
foreigners,  and,  like  all  men,  were  imperceptibly  influenced  by 

1  Coleridge  well  says,  "  It  is  the  chief  of  many  blessings  derived  from  the  in- 
sular character  and  circumstances  of  our  country  that  our  social  institutions  have 
formed  themselves  out  of  our  proper  needs  and  interest "  (Coleridge  on  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  Church  and  State,  8vo,  1830,  pp.  20,  21).   The  political  consequences 
of  this  were  much  noticed  at  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution.    See  Memoires 
de  La  Fayette,  Vol.  I,  p.  404,  Bruxelles,  1837. 

2  In  another  place  I  shall  collect  the  evidence  of  the  rapidly  increasing  love  of 
traveling  in  the  sixteenth  century ;  but  it  L  interesting  to  observe  that  during  the 
latter  half  of  the  century  there  was  first  established  the  custom  of  appointing 
traveling  tutors.    Compare  Barrington's  Observations  on  the  Statutes,  p.  218,  with 
a  letter  from  Beza,  written  in  1598,  in  Memoires  et  Correspondance  de  Du  Plessis 
Mornay,  Vol.  IX,  p.  81. 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     529 

what  they  often  saw.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were  many  of 
our  cities  in  which  none  but  Englishmen  ever  set  their  feet ; 1 
and  inhabitants,  even  of  the  metropolis,  might  grow  old  without 
having  once  seen  a  single  foreigner,  except,  perhaps,  some  dull 
and  pompous  ambassador  taking  his  airing  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames.  And  although  it  is  often  said  that  after  the  restora- 
tion of  Charles  II  our  national  character  began  to  be  greatly  in- 
fluenced by  French  example,2  this,  as  I  shall  fully  prove,  was 
confined  to  that  small  and  insignificant  part  of  society  which 
hung  about  the  court  ;  nor  did  it  produce  any  marked  effect 
upon  the  two  most  important  classes,  —  the  intellectual  class 
and  the  industrious  class.  The  movement  may,  indeed,  be  traced 
in  the  most  worthless  parts  of  our  literature,  —  in  the  shameless 
productions  of  Buckingham,  Dorset,  Etherege,  Killigrew,  Mul- 
grave,  Rochester,  and  Sedley.  But  neither  then  nor  at  a  much 
later  period  were  any  of  our  great  thinkers  influenced  by  the 
intellect  of  France ; 3  on  the  contrary,  we  find  in  their  ideas,  and 
even  in  their  style,  a  certain  rough  and  native  vigor  which,  though 
offensive  to  our  more  polished  neighbors,  has  at  least  the  merit 

1  In  regard  to  the  society  of  women,  this  was  still  more  observable,  even  at  a 
much  later  period ;  and  when  the  Countess  de  Boufflers  visited  England,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  George  III,  "  on  lui  faisoit  un  merite  de  sa  curiosite  de 
voir  PAngleterre  ;  car  on  remarquoit  qu'elle  etoit  la  seule  dame  fran9oise  de  qualite 
qui  fut  venue  en  voyageuse  depuis  deux  cents  ans :  on  ne  comprenoit  point,  dans 
cette  classe,  les  ambassadrices,  ni  la  duchesse  de  Mazarin,  qui  y  etoient  venues 
par  necessite "  (Dutens,  Memoires  d'un  Voyageur,  Vol.  I,  p.  217).    Compare 
Memoires  de  Madame  de  Genlis,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  241. 

2  Orme's  Life  of  Owen,  p.  288;.  Mahon's  History  of  England,  Vol.  II,  p.  211; 
and  many  other  writers. 

8  The  only  Englishman  of  genius  who,  during  this  period,  was  influenced  by 
the  French  mind  was  Dryden ;  but  this  is  chiefly  apparent  in  his  plays,  the  whole 
of  which  are  now  deservedly  forgotten.  His  great  works,  and,  above  all,  those 
wonderful  satires,  in  which  he  distances  every  competitor  except  Juvenal,  are 
thoroughly  national,  and  as  mere  specimens  of  English  are,  if  I  may  express  my 
own  judgment,  to  be  ranked  immediately  after  Shakespeare.  In  Dryden's  writings 
there  are  unquestionably  many  Gallicisms  of  expression,  but  few  Gallicisms  of 
thought ;  and  it  is  by  these  last  that  we  must  estimate  the  real  amount  of  foreign 
influence.  Sir  Walter  Scott  goes  so  far  as  to  say,  "  It  will  admit  of  question, 
whether  any  single  French  word  has  been  naturalized  upon  the  sole  authority  of 
Dryden"  (Scott's  Life  of  Dryden,  8vo,  1808,  p.  523).  Rather  a  bold  assertion.  As 
to  the  opinion  of  Fox,  see  Lord  Holland's  preface  to  Fox's  James  II,  4to,  1808, 
p.  xxxii. 


530  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  being  the  indigenous  product  of  our  own  country.1  The  origin 
and  extent  of  that  connection  between  the  French  and  English 
intellects  which  subsequently  arose  is  a  subject  of  immense  im- 
portance, but  like  most  others  of  real  value,  it  has  been  entirely 
neglected  by  historians.  In  the  present  work  I  shall  attempt  to 
supply  this  deficiency ;  in  the  meantime,  I  may  say  that  although 
we  have  been,  and  still  are,  greatly  indebted  to  the  French  for 
our  improvement  in  taste,  in  refinement,  in  manners,  and  indeed 
in  all  the  amenities  of  life,  we  have  borrowed  from  them  nothing 
absolutely  essential,  nothing  by  which  the  destinies  of  nations 
are  permanently  altered.  On  the  other  hand,  the  French  have 
not  only  borrowed  from  us  some  very  valuable  political  institu- 
tions but  even  the  most  important  event  in  French  history  is 
due,  in  no  small  degree,  to  our  influence.  Their  Revolution  of 
1789  was,  as  is  well  known,  brought  about,  or,  to  speak  more 
properly,  was  mainly  instigated,  by  a  few  great  men  whose 
works  and  afterwards  whose  speeches  roused  the  people  to 
resistance  ;  but  what  is  less  known,  and  nevertheless  is  certainly 
true,  is  that  these  eminent  leaders  learned  in  England  that  phi- 
losophy and  those  principles  by  which  when  transplanted  into 
their  own  country  such  fearful  and  yet  such  salutary  results 
were  effected. 

It  will  not,  I  hope,  be  supposed  that  by  these  remarks  I 
mean  to  cast  any  reflection  on  the  French :  a  great  and  admir- 
able people ;  a  people  in  many  respects  superior  to  ourselves  ; 
a  people  from  whom  we  have  still  much  to  learn,  and  whose 

1  Another  circumstance  which  has  maintained  the  independence,  and  therefore 
increased  the  value,  of  our  literature  is  that  in  no  great  country  have  literary  men 
been  so  little  connected  with  the  government  or  rewarded  by  it.  That  this  is  the 
true  policy,  and  that  to  protect  literature  is  to  injure  it,  are  propositions  for  the 
proof  of  which  I  must  refer  to  chap,  xi  of  this  volume  (Buckle's  History  of 
Civilization)  on  the  system  of  Louis  XIV.  In  the  meantime,  I  will  quote  the 
following  words  from  a  learned  and,  what  is  much  better,  a  thoughtful  writer: 
"  Nor  must  he  who  will  understand  the  English  institutions  leave  out  of  view  the 
character  of  the  enduring  works  which  had  sprung  from  the  salient  energy  of 
the  English  mind.  Literature  had  been  left  to  develop  itself.  William  of  Orange 
was  foreign  to  it ;  Anne  cared  not  for  it ;  the  first  George  knew  no  English  ;  the 
second  not  much  "  (Bancroft's  History  of  the  American  Revolution,  Vol.  II,  p.  48). 
Compare  Forster's  Life  of  Goldsmith,  1854,  Vol.  I,  pp.  93-96;  Vol.  II,  p.  480. 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      531 

deficiencies,  such  as  they  are,  arise  from  the  perpetual  interfer- 
ence of  a  long  line  of  arbitrary  rulers.  But  looking  at  this  matter 
historically,  it  is  unquestionably  true  that  we  have  worked  out  our 
civilization  with  little  aid  from  them,  while  they  have  worked  out 
theirs  with  great  aid  from  us.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  also  be 
admitted  that  our  governments  have  interfered  less  with  us  than 
their  governments  have  interfered  with  them.  And  without  in 
the  least  prejudging  the  question  as  to  which  is  the  greater 
country,  it  is  solely  on  these  grounds  that  I  consider  our  history 
more  important  than  theirs  ;  and  I  select  for  especial  study  the 
progress  of  English  civilization  simply  because,  being  less  affected 
by  agencies  not  arising  from  itself,  we  can  the  more  clearly  dis- 
cern in  it  the  normal  march  of  society  and  the  undisturbed  opera- 
tion of  those  great  laws  by  which  the  fortunes  of  mankind  are 
ultimately  regulated. 

After  this  comparison  between  the  relative  value  of  French 
and  English  history,  it  seems  scarcely  necessary  to  examine  the 
claims  which  may  be  put  forward  for  the  history  of  other  coun- 
tries. Indeed,  there  are  only  two  in  whose  favor  anything  can 
be  said  :  I  mean  Germany,  considered  as  a  whole,  and  the  United 
States  of  North  America.  As  to  the  Germans,  it  is  undoubtedly 
true  that  since  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  they  have 
produced  a  greater  number  of  profound  thinkers  than  any  other 
country,  I  might  perhaps  say  than  all  other  countries  put  to- 
gether. But  the  objections  which  apply  to  the  French  are  still 
more  applicable  to  the  Germans  ;  for  the  protective  principle 
has  been,  and  still  is,  stronger  in  Germany  than  in  France.  Even 
the  best  of  the  German  governments  are  constantly  interfering 
with  the  people  ;  never  leaving  them  to  themselves,  always  look- 
ing after  their  interests,  and  meddling  in  the  commonest  affairs 
of  daily  life.  Besides  this,  the  German  literature,  though  now  the 
first  in  Europe,  owes  its  origin,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see,  to  that 
great  skeptical  movement  by  which  in  France  the  Revolution 
was  preceded.  Before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century 
the  Germans,  notwithstanding  a  few  eminent  names,  such  as 
Kepler  and  Leibnitz,  had  no  literature  of  real  value  ;  and  the  first 
impetus  which  they  received  was  caused  by  their  contact  with  the 


532  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

French  intellect,  and  by  the  influence  of  those  eminent  French- 
men who,  in  the  reign  of  Frederick  the  Great,  flocked  to  Berlin,1 
a  city  which  has  ever  since  been  the  headquarters  of  philosophy 
and  science.  From  this  there  have  resulted  some  very  important 
circumstances,  which  I  can  here  only  briefly  indicate.  The  Ger- 
man intellect,  stimulated  by  the  French  into  a  sudden  growth, 
has  been  irregularly  developed,  and  thus  hurried  into  an  activity 
greater  than  the  average  civilization  of  the  country  requires. 
The  consequence  is,  that  there  is  no  nation  in  Europe  in  which 
we  find  so  wide  an  interval  between  the  highest  minds  and  the 
lowest  minds.  The  German  philosophers  possess  a  learning  and 
a  reach  of  thought  which  places  them  at  the  head  of  the  civi- 
lized world.  The  German  people  are  more  superstitious,  more 
prejudiced,  and,  notwithstanding  the  care  which  the  government 
takes  of  their  education,  more  really  ignorant  and  more  unfit  to 
guide  themselves  than  are  the  inhabitants  either  of  France  or  of 
England.2  This  separation  and  divergence  of  the  two  classes  is 

1  The  history  of  this  remarkable  though  short-lived  union  between  the  French 
and  German  intellects  will  be  traced  in  the  next  volume  (i.e.  Buckle's  History  of 
Civilization) ;  but  its  first  great  effect  in  stimulating,  or  rather  in  creating,  the 
German  literature  is  noticed  by  one  of  the  most  learned  of  their  own  writers : 
"  Denne  inestheils  war  zu  diesen  Gegenstanden  immer  die  lateinische  Sprache  ge- 
braucht,  und  die  Muttersprache  zu  wenig  cultivirt  worden,  anderntheils  wurden 
diese  Schriften  auch  meistentheils  nur  von  Gelehrten,  und  zwar  Universitatsge- 
lehrten,  fiir  welche  sie  auch  hauptsachlich  bestimmt  waren,  gelesen.    Gegen  die 
Mitte  des  achtzehnten  Jahrhunderts,  als   mehrere    englische    und   franzbsische 
Werke  gelesen  und  iibersetzt  wurden,  und  durch  die  Vorliebe  des  Konigs  von 
Preussen  Friedrichs  II,  der  von  Franzosen  gebildet  worden  war,  franzosische 
Gelehrte  besonders  geehrt  und  angestellt  wurden,  entstand  ein  Wetteifer  der 
Deutschen,  auch  in  dem  schriftlichen  Vortrage  nicht  zuriick  zu  bleiben,  und  die 
Sprache  hob  sich  bald  zu  einem  hohen  Grade  von  Vollkommenheit  "  (Tennemann,- 
Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  Vol.  XI,  pp.  286,  287). 

2  A  popular  view  of  the  system  of  national  education  established  in  Germany 
will  be  found  in  Kay's  Social  Condition  and  Education  of  the  People  of  Europe, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  1-344.    But  Mr.  Kay,  like  most  literary  men,  overrates  the  advantages 
of  literary  acquirements,  and  underrates  that  education  of  the  faculties  which 
neither  books  nor  schools  can  impart  to  a  people  who  are  debarred  from  the 
exercise    of   civil   and   political  rights.    In  the  history  of  the  protective  spirit 
I  shall  return  to  this  subject,  in  connection  with  France;  and  I  shall  examine  it 
in  regard  to  German  civilization.    In  the  meantime,  I  must  be  allowed  to  protest 
against  the  account  Mr.  Kay  has  given  of  the  results  of  compulsory  education : 
an  agreeable  picture,  drawn  by  an  amiable  and  intelligent  writer,  but  of   the 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     533 

the  natural  result  of  that  artificial  stimulus  which  a.  century  ago 
was  administered  to  one  of  the  classes,  and  which  thus  disturbed 
the  normal  proportions  of  society.  Owing  to  this,  the  highest  in- 
tellects have,  in  Germany,  so  outstripped  the  general  progress  of 
the  nation  that  there  is  no  sympathy  between  the  two  parties, 
nor  are  there  at  present  any  means  by  which  they  may  be  brought 
into  contact.  Their  great  authors  address  themselves  not  to 
their  country  but  to  each  other.  They  are  sure  of  a  select  and 
learned  audience  and  they  use  what  in  reality  is  a  learned  lan- 
guage :  they  turn  their  mother  tongue  into  a  dialect,  eloquent 
indeed,  and  very  powerful,  but  so  difficult,  so  subtle,  and  so  full 
of  complicated  inversions  that  to  their  own  lower  classes  it  is 
utterly  incomprehensible.1  From  this  there  have  arisen  some  of 


inaccuracy  of  which  I  possess  decisive  evidence.  Two  points  only  I  will  now  refer 
to.  First,  the  notorious  fact,  that  the  German  people,  notwithstanding  their  so-called 
education,  are  unfit  to  take  any  share  in  political  matters,  and  have  no  aptitude 
for  the  practical  and  administrative  parts  of  government.  Second,  the  fact, 
equally  notorious  to  those  who  have  studied  the  subject,  that  there  are  more 
popular  superstitions  in  Prussia,  the  most  educated  part  of  Germany,  than  there 
are  in  England ;  and  that  the  tenacity  with  which  men  cling  to  them  is  greater  in 
Prussia  than  in  England.  For  illustration  of  the  practical  working,  in  individual 
cases,  of  compulsory  education  and  of  the  hardship  it  causes,  see  a  scandalous 
occurrence  related  in  Laing's  Notes  of  a  Traveller,  8vo,  1842,  p.  165,  first  series; 
and  on  the  physical  evils  produced  by  German  education,  see  Phillips  on  Scrofula, 
pp.  253,  254,  London,  1846,  where  there  is  some  useful  evidence  of  the  conse- 
quences of  "  that  great  German  sin  of  overregulation." 

1  This  is  well  stated  by  Mr.  Laing,  by  far  the  ablest  traveler  who  has  published 
observations  on  European  society :  "  German  authors,  both  the  philosophic  and 
the  poetic,  address  themselves  to  a  public  far  more  intellectual,  and  more  highly 
cultivated,  than  our  reading  public.  ...  In  our  literature,  the  most  obscure  and 
abstruse  of  metaphysical  or  philosophical  writers  take  the  public  mind  in  a  far 
lower  state,  simply  cognizant  of  the  meaning  of  language,  and  possessed  of  the 
ordinary  reasoning  power.  .  .  .  The  social  influence  of  German  literature  is  con- 
sequently confined  within  a  narrower  circle.  It  has  no  influence  on  the  mind  of 
the  lower  or  even  of  the  middle  classes  in  active  life,  who  have  not  the  opportunity 
or  leisure  to  screw  their  faculties  up  to  the  pitch-note  of  their  great  writers,  The 
reading  public  must  devote  much  time  to  acquire  the  knowledge,  tone  of  feeling, 
and  of  imagination  necessary  to  follow  the  writing  public.  The  social  economist 
finds  accordingly  in  Germany  the  most  extraordinary  dullness,  inertness  of  mind, 
and  ignorance,  below  a  certain  level,  with  the  most  extraordinary  intellectual 
development,  learning,  and  genius,  at  or  above  it "  (Laing's  Notes  of  a  Traveller, 
first  series,  pp.  266,  267).  The  same  acute  observer  says  in  a  later  work  (Notes, 
third  series,  8vo,  1852,  p.  12):  "The  two  classes  speak  and  think  in  different 


534  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  most  marked  peculiarities  of  German  literature.  For  being 
deprived  of  ordinary  readers,  it  is  cut  off  from  the  influence  of 
ordinary  prejudice  ;  and  hence  it  has  displayed  a  boldness  of  in- 
quiry, a  recklessness  in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  and  a  disregard  of 
traditional  opinions,  which  entitle  it  to  the  highest  praise.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  this  same  circumstance  has  produced  that 
absence  of  practical  knowledge  and  that  indifference  to  mate- 
rial and  physical  interests  for  which  the  German  literature  is 
justly  censured.  As  a  matter  of  course,  all  this  has  widened 
the  original  breach,  and  increased  the  distance  which  separates 
the  great  German  thinkers  from  that  dull  and  plodding  class 
which,  though  it  lies  immediately  beneath  them,  still  remains 
uninfluenced  by  their  knowledge  and  uncheered  by  the  glow  and 
fire  of  their  genius. 

In  America,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see  a  civilization  precisely 
the  reverse  of  this.  We  see  a  country  of  which  it  has  been  truly 
said,  that  in  no  other  are  there  so  few  men  of  great  learning,  and 
so  few  men  of  great  ignorance.1  In  Germany  the  speculative 
classes  and  the  practical  classes  are  altogether  disunited  ;  in 
America  they  are  altogether  fused.  In  Germany  nearly  every 
year  brings  forward  new  discoveries,  new  philosophies,  new 
means  by  which  the  boundaries  of  knowledge  are  to  be  enlarged. 
In  America  such  inquiries  are  almost  entirely  neglected ;  since 
the  time  of  Jonathan  Edwards  no  great  metaphysician  has  ap- 
peared ;  little  attention  has  been  paid  to  physical  science ;  and, 
with  the  single  exception  of  jurisprudence,2  scarcely  anything  has 

languages.  The  cultivated  German  language,  the  language  of  German  literature, 
is  not  the  language  of  the  common  man,  nor  even  of  the  man  far  up  in  the  middle 
ranks  of  society,  —  the  farmer,  tradesman,  shopkeeper."  See  also  pp.  351,  352, 
354.  It  is  singular  that  so  clear  and  vigorous  a  thinker  as  Mr.  Laing  evidently  is 
should  have  failed  in  detecting  the  cause  of  this  peculiar  phenomenon. 

1  "  Je  ne  pense  pas  qu'il  y  ait  de  pays  dans  le  monde  ou,  proportion  gardee 
avec  la  population,  il  se  trouve  aussi  peu  d'ignorants  et  moins  de  savants  qu'en 
Amerique"  (Tocqueville,  Democratic  en  Amerique,  Vol.  I,  p.  91). 

2  The  causes  of  this  exception  I  shall  endeavor  to  trace ;  but  it  is  interesting 
to  notice  that  as  early  as  1775  Burke  was  struck  by  the  partiality  of  the  Americans 
for  works  on  law.    See  Burke's  Speech,  in  Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  XVIII, 
p.  495  ;  or  in  Burke's  Works,  Vol.  I,  p.  188.    He  says  :  "  In  no  country  perhaps 
in  the  world  is  the  law  so  general  a  study.    The  profession  itself  is  numerous 
and  powerful ;  and  in  most  provinces  it  takes  the  lead.    The  greater  number  of 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     535 

been  done  for  those  vast  subjects  on  which  the  Germans  are  inces- 
santly laboring.  The  stock  of  American  knowledge  is  small,  but 
it  is  spread  through  all  classes  ;  the  stock  of  German  knowledge 
is  immense,  but  it  is  confined  to  one  class.  Which  of  these  two 
forms  of  civilization  is  the  more  advantageous  is  a  question  we 
are  not  now  called  upon  to  decide.  It  is  enough  for  our  present 
purpose  that  in  Germany  there  is  a  serious  failure  in  the  diffusion 
of  knowledge,  and  in  America  a  no  less  serious  one  in  its  accu- 
mulation. And  as  civilization  is  regulated  by  the  accumulation 
and  diffusion  of  knowledge,  it  is  evident  that  no  country  can  even 
approach  to  a  complete  and  perfect  pattern,  if  cultivating  one  of 
these  conditions  to  an  excess  it  neglects  the  cultivation  of  the 
other.  Indeed,  from  this  want  of  balance  and  equilibrium  between 
the  two  elements  of  civilization  there  have  arisen  in  America 
and  in  Germany  those  great  but  opposite  evils  which,  it  is  to  be 
feared,  will  not  be  easily  remedied,  and  which,  until  remedied, 
will  certainly  retard  the  progress  of  both  countries,  notwithstand- 
ing the  temporary  advantages  which  such  one-sided  energy  does 
for  the  moment  always  procure. 

I  have  very  briefly,  but  I  hope  fairly,  and  certainly  with  no 
conscious  partiality,  endeavored  to  estimate  the  relative  value  of 
the  history  of  the  four  leading  countries  of  the  world.  As  to 
the  real  greatness  of  the  countries  themselves  I  offer  no  opin- 
ion, because  each  considers  itself  to  be  the  first.  But  unless 
the  facts  I  have  stated  can  be  controverted,  it  certainly  follows 
that  the  history  of  England  is  to  the  philosopher  more  valuable 
than  any  other,  because  he  can  more  clearly  see  in  it  the  ac- 
cumulation and  diffusion  of  knowledge  going  hand  in  hand, 
because  that  knowledge  has  been  less  influenced  by  foreign 

the  deputies  sent  to  the  Congress  were  lawyers.  But  all  who  read,  —  and  most 
do  read,  —  endeavor  to  obtain  some  smattering  in  that  science.  I  have  been  told 
by  an  eminent  bookseller  that  in  no  branch  of  his  business,  after  tracts  of  popular 
devotion,  were  so  many  books  as  those  on  the  law  exported  to  the  plantations. 
The  colonists  have  now  fallen  into  the  way  of  printing  them  for  their  own  use. 
I  hear  that  they  have  sold  nearly  as  many  of  Blackstone's  Commentaries  in 
America  as  in  England."  Of  this  state  of  society,  the  great  works  of  Kent  and 
Story  were  at  a  later  period  the  natural  result.  On  the  respect  at  present  felt 
for  the  legal  profession,  see  LyelFs  Second  Visit  to  the  United  States,  1849,  Vol.  I, 
p.  45 ;  and  as  to  the  judges,  see  Combe's  North  America,  Vol.  II,  p.  329 


536  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  external  agencies,  and  because  it  has  been  less  interfered 
with,  either  for  good  or  for  evil,  by  those  powerful  but  fre- 
quently incompetent  men  to  whom  the  administration  of  public 
affairs  is  intrusted. 

It  is  on  account  of  these  considerations,  and  not  at  all  from 
those  motives  which  are  dignified  with  the  name  of  patriotism, 
that  I  have  determined  to  write  the  history  of  my  own  country 
in  preference  to  that  of  any  other,  and  to  write  it  in  a  manner 
as  complete  and  as  exhaustive  as  the  materials  which  are  now 
extant  will  enable  me  to  do.  But  inasmuch  as  the  circumstances 
already  stated  render  it  impossible  to  discover  the  laws  of 
society  solely  by  studying  the  history  of  a  single  nation,  I  have 
drawn  up  the  present  introduction,  in  order  to  obviate  some  of 
the  difficulties  with  which  this  great  subject  is  surrounded.  I 
have  already  attempted  to  mark  out  the  limits  of  the  subject  con- 
sidered as  a  whole,  and  fix  the  largest  possible  basis  upon  which 
it  can  rest.  With  this  view  I  have  looked  at  civilization  as  broken 
into  two  vast  divisions  :  the  European  division,  in  which  man  is 
more  powerful  than  nature ;  and  the  non-European  division,  in 
which  nature  is  more  powerful  than  man.  This  has  led  us  to 
the  conclusion  that  national  progress,  in  connection  with  popular 
liberty,  could  have  originated  in  no  part  of  the  world  except  in 
Europe ;  where,  therefore,  the  rise  of  real  civilization  and  the 
encroachments  of  the  human  mind  upon  the  forces  of  nature  are 
alone  to  be  studied.  The  superiority  of  the  mental  laws  over  the 
physical  being  thus  recognized  as  the  groundwork  of  European 
history,  the  next  step  has  been  to  resolve  the  mental  laws  into 
moral  and  intellectual,  and  prove  the  superior  influence  of  the 
intellectual  ones  in  accelerating  the  progress  of  man.  These 
generalizations  appear  to  me  the  essential  preliminaries  of  history, 
considered  as  a  science,  and  in  order  to  connect  them  with  the 
special  history  of  England,  we  have  now  merely  to  ascertain  the 
fundamental  condition  of  intellectual  progress,  as  until  that  is 
done,  the  annals  of  any  people  can  only  present  an  empirical 
succession  of  events,  connected  by  such  stray  and  casual  links  as 
are  devised  by  different  writers,  according  to  their  different  prin- 
ciples. The  remaining  part  of  this  introduction  will  therefore  be 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     537 

chiefly  occupied  in  completing  the  scheme  I  have  sketched,  by 
investigating  the  history  of  various  countries  in  reference  to 
those  intellectual  peculiarities  on  which  the  history  of  our  own 
country  supplies  no  adequate  information.  Thus,  for  instance,  in 
Germany  the  accumulation  of  knowledge  has  been  far  more  rapid 
than  in  England  ;  the  laws  of  the  accumulation  of  knowledge 
may  on  that  account  be  most  conveniently  studied  in  German 
history,  and  then  applied  deductively  to  the  history  of  England. 
In  the  same  way,  the  Americans  have  diffused  their  knowledge 
much  more  completely  than  we  have  done ;  I  therefore  propose 
to  explain  some  of  the  phenomena  of  English  civilization  by  those 
laws  of  diffusion  of  which  in  American  civilization  the  workings 
may  be  most  clearly  seen,  and  hence  the  discovery  most  easily 
made.  Again,  inasmuch  as  France  is  the  most  civilized  country 
in  which  the  protective  spirit  is  very  powerful,  we  may  trace  the 
occult  tendencies  of  that  spirit  among  ourselves,  by  studying  its 
obvious  tendencies  among  our  neighbors.  With  this  view  I  shall 
give  an  account  of  French  history,  in  order  to  illustrate  the  pro- 
tective principle,  by  showing  the  injury  it  has  inflicted  on  a  very 
able  and  enlightened  people.  And  in  an  analysis  of  the  French 
Revolution  I  shall  point  out  how  that  great  event  was  a  reac- 
tion against  the  protective  spirit,  while,  as  the  materials  for  the 
reaction  were  drawn  from  England,  we  shall  also  see  in  it  the 
way  in  which  the  intellect  of  one  country  acts  upon  the  intellect 
of  another ;  and  we  shall  arrive  at  some  results  respecting  that 
interchange  of  ideas  which  is  likely  to  become  the  most  important 
regulator  of  European  affairs.  This  will  throw  much  light  on  the 
laws  of  international  thought,  and  in  connection  with  it  two 
separate  chapters  will  be  devoted  to  a  history  of  the  protective 
spirit  and  an  examination  of  its  relative  intensity  in  France 
and  England.  But  the  French  as  a  people  have  since  the  begin- 
ning or  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  been  remarkably  free 
from  superstition  ;  and  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  their  gov- 
ernment, they  are  very  averse  to  ecclesiastical  power,  so  that, 
although  their  history  displays  the  protective  principle  in  its 
political  form,  it  supplies  little  evidence  respecting  its  religious 
form,  while  in  our  own  country  the  evidence  is  also  scanty. 


538  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Hence  my  intention  is  to  give  a  view  of  Spanish  history,  because 
in  it  we  may  trace  the  full  results  of  that  protection  against 
error  which  the  spiritual  classes  are  always  eager  to  afford.  In 
Spain  the  church  has  from  a  very  early  period  possessed  more 
authority,  and  the  clergy  have  been  more  influential  both  with 
the  people  and  the  government,  than  in  any  other  country  ;  it 
will  therefore  be  convenient  to  study  in  Spain  the  laws  of  ecclesi- 
astical development,  and  the  manner  in  which  that  development 
affects  the  national  interests.  Another  circumstance  which  oper- 
ates on  the  intellectual  progress  of  a  nation  is  the  method  of 
investigation  that  its  ablest  men  habitually  employ.  This  method 
can  only  be  one  of  two  kinds  :  it  must  be  either  inductive  or 
deductive.  Each  of  these  belongs  to  a  different  form  of  civiliza- 
tion and  is  always  accompanied  by  a  different  style  of  thought, 
particularly  in  regard  to  religion  and  science.  These  differences 
are  of  such  immense  importance  that  until  their  laws  are  known 
we  cannot  be  said  to  understand  the  real  history  of  past  events. 
Now  the  two  extremes  of  the  difference  are,  undoubtedly,  Ger- 
many and  the  United  States,  the  Germans  being  preeminently 
deductive,  the  Americans  inductive.  But  Germany  and  America 
are  in  so  many  other  respects  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other 
that  I  have  thought  it  expedient  to  study  the  operations  of  the 
deductive  and  inductive  spirit  in  countries  between  which  a  closer 
analogy  exists,  because  the  greater  the  similarity  between  two 
nations,  the  more  easily  can  we  trace  the  consequences  of  any 
single  divergence,  and  the  more  conspicuous  do  the  laws  of  that 
divergence  become.  Such  an  opportunity  occurs  in  the  history 
of  Scotland,  as  compared  with  that  of  England.  Here  we  have 
two  nations  bordering  on  each  other,  speaking  the  same  language, 
reading  the  same  literature,  and  knit  together  by  the  same 
interests.  And  yet  it  is  a  truth,  which  seems  to  have  escaped 
attention,  but  the  proof  of  which  I  shall  fully  detail,  that  until 
the  last  thirty  or  forty  years  the  Scotch  intellect  has  been  even 
more  entirely  deductive  than  the  English  intellect  has  been  in- 
ductive. The  inductive  tendencies  of  the  English  mind  and  the 
almost  superstitious  reverence  with  which  we  cling  to  them  have 
been  noticed  with  regret  by  a  few,  and  a  very  few,  of  our  ablest 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     539 

men.1  On  the  other  hand,  in  Scotland,  particularly  during  the 
eighteenth  century,  the  great  thinkers,  with  hardly  an  exception, 
adopted  the  deductive  method.  Now  the  characteristic  of  deduc- 
tion when  applied  to  branches  of  knowledge  not  yet  ripe  for  it 
is  that  it  increases  the  number  of  hypotheses  from  which  we 
reason  downwards,  and  brings  into  disrepute  the  slow  and  patient 
ascent  peculiar  to  inductive  inquiry.  This  desire  to  grasp  at 
truth  by  speculative  and,  as  it  were,  foregone  conclusions  has 
often  led  the  way  to  great  discoveries ;  and  no  one,  properly 
instructed,  will  deny  its  immense  value.  But  when  it  is  univer- 
sally followed  there  is  imminent  danger  lest  the  observation  of 
mere  empirical  uniformities  should  be  neglected,  and  lest  think- 
ing men  should  grow  impatient  at  those  small  and  proximate 
generalizations  which,  according  to  the  inductive  scheme,  must 
invariably  precede  the  larger  and  higher  ones.  Whenever  this 
impatience  actually  occurs,  there  is  produced  serious  mischief. 
For  these  lower  generalizations  form  a  neutral  ground,  which 
speculative  minds  and  practical  minds  possess  in  common,  and  on 
which  they  meet.  If  this  ground  is  cut  away,  the  meeting  is 
impossible.  In  such  case,  there  arises  among  the  scientific  classes 
an  undue  contempt  for  inferences  which  the  experience  of  the 
vulgar  has  drawn,  but  of  which  the  laws  seem  inexplicable  ;  while 
among  the  practical  classes  there  arises  a  disregard  of  specula- 
tions so  wide,  so  magnificent,  and  of  which  the  intermediate  and 
preliminary  steps  are  hidden  from  their  gaze.  The  results  of 
this  in  Scotland  are  highly  curious,  and  are,  in  several  respects, 
similar  to  those  which  we  find  in  Germany,  since  in  both  coun- 
tries the  intellectual  classes  have  long  been  remarkable  for  their 
boldness  of  investigation  and  their  freedom  from  prejudice,  and 
the  people  at  large  equally  remarkable  for  the  number  of  their 
superstitions  and  the  strength  of  their  prejudices.  In  Scotland 
this  is  even  more  striking  than  in  Germany,  because  the  Scotch, 
owing  to  causes  which  have  been  little  studied,  are  in  practical 

1  Particularly  Coleridge  and  Mr.  John  Mill.  But  with  the  greatest  possible 
respect  for  Mr.  Mill's  profound  work  on  Logic,  I  must  venture  to  think  that  he 
has  ascribed  too  much  to  the  influence  of  Bacon  in  encouraging  the  inductive 
spirit,  and  too  little  to  those  other  circumstances  which  gave  rise  to  the  Baconian 
philosophy,  and  to  which  that  philosophy  owes  its  success. 


540  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

matters  not  only  industrious  and  provident  but  singularly  shrewd. 
This,  however,  in  the  higher  departments  of  life  has  availed  them 
nothing ;  and  while  there  is  no  country  which  possesses  a  more 
original,  inquisitive,  and  innovating  literature  than  Scotland  does, 
so  also  is  there  no  country  equally  civilized  in  which  so  much  of 
the  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  still  lingers,  in  which  so  many 
absurdities  are  still  believed,  and  in  which  it  would  be  so  easy  to 
rouse  into  activity  the  old  feelings  of  religious  intolerance. 

The  divergence,  and  indeed  the  hostility,  thus  established  be- 
tween the  practical  and  speculative  classes  is  the  most  impor- 
tant fact  in  the  history  of  Scotland,  and  is  partly  cause  and  partly 
effect  of  the  predominance  of  the  deductive  method.  For  this 
descending  scheme,  being  opposed  to  the  ascending  or  inductive 
scheme,  neglects  those  lower  generalizations  which  are  the  only 
ones  that  both  classes  understand,  and  therefore  the  only  ones 
where  they  sympathize  with  each  other.  The  inductive  method, 
as  popularized  by  Bacon,  gave  great  prominence  to  these  lower  or 
proximate  truths ;  and  this,  though  it  has  often  made  the  intel- 
lectual classes  in  England  too  utilitarian,  has  at  all  events  saved 
them  from  that  state  of  isolation  in  which  they  would  otherwise 
have  remained.  But  in  Scotland  the  isolation  has  been  almost 
complete,  because  the  deductive  method  has  been  almost  univer- 
sal. In  order  that  I  may  not  leave  the  subject  entirely  without 
illustration,  I  will  notice  very  briefly  the  principal  instances  that 
occurred  during  those  three  generations  in  which  Scotch  liter- 
ature reached  its  highest  excellence. 

During  this  period,  which  comprises  nearly  a  century,  the  tend- 
ency was  so  unmistakable  as  to  form  a  striking  phenomenon  in 
the  annals  of  the  human  mind.  The  first  great  symptom  was  a 
movement  begun  by  Simson,  professor  at  the  University  of  Glas- 
gow, and  continued  by  Stewart,  professor  at  the  University  of 
Edinburgh.  These  able  men  made  strenuous  efforts  to  revive 
the  pure  Greek  geometry  and  depreciate  the  algebraic  or  sym- 
bolical analysis.1  Hence  there  rose  among  them,  and  among 

1  Simson  was  appointed  in  1711 ;  and  even  before  he  began  to  lecture,  he  drew 
up  "  a  translation  of  the  three  first  books  of  L'Hopital's  Conic  Sections,  in  which 
geometrical  demonstrations  are  substituted  for  the  algebraical  of  the  original, 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      541 

their  disciples,  a  love  of  the  most  refined  methods  of  solution 
and  a  contempt  for  those  easier  but  less  elegant  ones  which  we 
owe  to  algebra.1  Here  we  clearly  see  the  isolating  and  esoteric 
character  of  a  scheme  which  despises  what  ordinary  understand- 
ings can  quickly  master,  and  which  had  rather  proceed  from  the 
ideal  to  the  tangible  than  mount  from  the  tangible  to  the  ideal. 
Just  at  the  same  time  the  same  spirit  was  displayed  in  another 
branch  of  inquiry  by  Hutcheson,  who,  though  an  Irishman  by 
birth,  was  educated  in  the  University  of  Glasgow,  and  was  pro- 
fessor there.  In  his  celebrated  moral  and  aesthetic  researches  he, 
in  the  place  of  inductive  reasoning  from  palpable  facts,  substituted 
deductive  reasoning  from  impalpable  principles,  ignoring  the  im- 
mediate and  practical  suggestions  of  the  senses,  and  believing 
that  by  a  hypothetical  assumption  of  certain  laws  he  could 
descend  upon  the  facts  instead  of  rising  from  the  facts  in  order 
to  learn  the  laws.2  His  philosophy  exercised  immense  influence 


according  to  Mr.  Simson's  early  taste  on  this  subject "  (Trail's  Life  and  Writings 
of  Robert  Simson,  410,  1812,  p.  4).  This  was  probably  the  rudiment  of  his  work 
on  Conic  Sections,  published  in  1735  (Montucla,  Histoire  des  Mathematiques, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  12).  On  the  difference  between  the  ancient  and  modern  schemes, 
there  are  some  ingenious,  though  perhaps  scarcely  tenable,  remarks  in  Dugald 
Stewart's  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  Vol.  II,  pp.  354  seq.  and  p.  380.  See  also 
Comte,  Philosophic  Positive,  Vol.  I,  pp.  383-395.  Matthew  Stewart,  the  mathe- 
matical professor  at  Edinburgh,  was  the  father  of  Dugald.  See,  respecting  him 
and  his  crusade  against  the  modern  analysis,  Bower's  History  of  the  University 
of  Edinburgh,  Vol.  II,  pp.  357-360;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  249;  and  a  strange  passage  in 
First  Report  of  the  British  Association,  p.  59. 

1  One  of  Simson's  great  reasons  for  recommending  the  old  analysis  was  that 
it  was  "  more  elegant "  than  the  comparatively  modem  practice  of  introducing 
algibraic  calculations  into  geometry.    See  Trail's  Simson,  4to,  1812,  pp.  27,  67; 
a  valuable  work,  which  Lord  Brougham,  in  his  hasty  life  of  Simson,  calls  "a  very 
learned  and  exceedingly  ill-written,  indeed  hardly  readable,"  book  (Brougham's 
Men  of  Letters  and  Science,  Vol.  I,  8vo,  1845,  p.  482).    Dr.  Trail's  style  is  clearer 
and  his  sentences  are  less  involved  than  Lord  Brougham's ;  and  he  had  moreover 
the  great  advantage  of  understanding  the  subject  upon  which  he  wrote. 

2  Sir  James    Mackintosh  (Dissertation   on   Ethical   Philosophy,  p.  208)  says 
of  Hutcheson,  "  To  him  may  also  be  ascribed  that  proneness  to  multiply  ultimate 
and  original  principles  in  human  nature,  which  characterized  the  Scottish  school 
till  the  second  extinction  of  passion  for  metaphysical  speculation  in  Scotland." 
There  is  an  able  view  of  Hutch eson's  philosophy  in  Cousin,  Histoire  de  la  Phi- 
losophic, I.  serie,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  31  seq.,  written  with  clearness  and  eloquence,  but 
perhaps  overpraising  Hutcheson. 


542  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

among  metaphysicians  ; l  and  his  method  of  working  downwards 
from  the  abstract  to  the  concrete  was  adopted  by  another  and  a 
still  greater  Scotchman,  the  illustrious  Adam  Smith.  How  Smith 
favored  the  deductive  form  of  investigation  is  apparent  in  his 
Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  likewise  in  his  Essay  on  Lan- 
guage,2 and  even  in  his  fragment  on  the  History  of  Astronomy, 
in  which  he,  from  general  considerations,  undertook  to  prove 
what  the  march  of  astronomical  discovery  must  have  been  in- 
stead of  first  ascertaining  what  it  had  been.3  The  Wealth  of 
Nations,  again,  is  entirely  deductive,  since  in  it  Smith  generalizes 
the  laws  of  wealth,  not  from  the  phenomena  of  wealth,  nor  from 
statistical  statements,  but  from  the  phenomena  of  selfishness ; 
thus  making  a  deductive  application  of  one  set  of  mental  prin- 
ciples to  the  whole  set  of  economical  facts.4  The  illustrations 

1  On  its  influence,  see  a  letter  from  Mackintosh  to  Parr,  in  Memoirs  of  Mack- 
intosh, by  his  son,  Vol.  I,  p.  334.    Compare  Letters  from  Warburton  to  Kurd, 
pp.  37,  82. 

2  Which  is  added  to  his  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  edit.  1822,  2  volumes. 
Compare  a  letter  which   Smith  wrote  in    1763  on  the  origin  of  language  (in 
Nichols'  Literary  Illustrations  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  515,  516), 
which  exhibits,  on  a  small  scale,  the  same  treatment,  as  distinguished  from  a  gen- 
eralization of  the  facts  which  are  supplied  by  a  comprehensive  comparison  of  differ- 
ent languages.    Dr.  Arnold  speaks  slightingly  of  such  investigations.    He  says, 
"  Attempts  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  language  a  priori  seem  to  me  unwise " 
(Arnold's  Miscellaneous  Works,  p.  385).    This  would  lead  into  a  discussion  too 
long  for  a  note ;  but  it  appears  to  me  that  these  a  priori  inferences  are  to  the 
philologist  what  hypotheses  are  to  the  inductive  natural  philosopher;  and  if  this 
be  the  case,  they  are  extremely  important,  because  no  really  fruitful  experiment 
ever  can  be  made  unless  it  is  preceded  by  a  judicious  hypothesis.    In  the  absence 
of  such  an  hypothesis,  men  may  grope  in  the  dark  for  centuries,  accumulating 
facts  without  obtaining  knowledge. 

8  See,  for  instance,  his  attempt  to  prove,  from  general  reasonings  concerning 
the  human  mind,  that  there  was  a  necessary  relation  in  regard  to  the  order  in 
which  men  promulgated  the  system  of  concentric  spheres  and  that  of  eccentric 
spheres  and  epicycles.  See  History  of  Astronomy,  in  Smith's  Philosophical  Essays, 
4to,  1795,  PP-  31'  3^»  which  it  may  be  convenient  to  compare  with  Wheweli's 
Philosophy  of  the  Inductive  Sciences,  1847,  Vol.  II,  pp.  53,  60,  61.  This  striking 
fragment  of  Adam  Smith's  is  probably  little  read  now,  but  it  is  warmly  praised 
by  one  of  the  greatest  living  philosophers,  M.  A.  Comte,  in  his  Philosophic 
Positive,  Vol.  VI,  p.  319. 

4  The  two  writers  who  have  inquired  most  carefully  into  the  method  which 
political  economists  ought  to  follow  are  Mr.  John  Mill  (Essays  on  Unsettled 
Questions  of  Political  Economy,  1844,  pp.  120-164)  and  Mr.  Rae  (New  Principles 
of  Political  Economy,  1834,  pp.  328-351).  Mr.  Rae,  in  his  ingenious  work,  objects 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      543 

with  which  his  great  book  abounds  are  no  part  of  the  real  argu- 
ment :  they  are  subsequent  to  the  conception ;  and  if  they  were 
all  omitted,  the  work,  though  less  interesting,  and  perhaps  less 
influential,  would  in  a  scientific  point  of  view  be  equally  valuable. 
To  give  another  instance,  the  works  of  Hume,  his  metaphysical 
essays  alone  excepted,  are  all  deductive  ;  his  profound  economical 
inquiries  are  essentially  a  priori,  and  might  have  been  written 
without  any  acquaintance  with  those  details  of  trade  and  finance 
from  which,  according  to  the  inductive  scheme,  they  should  have 
been  generalized.1  Thus,  too,  in  his  Natural  History  of  Religion, 
he  endeavored  simply  by  reflection  and  independently  of  evidence 
to  institute  a  purely  speculative  investigation  into  the  origin  of 
religious  opinions.2  In  the  same  way,  in  his  History  of  England, 

to  Adam  Smith  that  he  transgressed  the  rules  of  the  Baconian  philosophy,  and 
thus  prevented  his  inferences  from  being  as  valuable  as  they  would  have  been  if 
he  had  treated  his  subject  inductively.  But  Mr.  Mill,  with  great  force  of  reason- 
ing, has  proved  that  the  deductive  plan  is  the  only  one  by  which  political  economy 
can  be  raised  to  a  science.  He  says  (p.  143)  that  political  economy  is  "  essentially 
an  abstract  science,  and  its  method  is  the  method  a  priori  "  ;  and  at  p.  146,  that  the 
a  posteriori  method  is  "  altogether  inefficacious."  To  this  I  may  add,  that  the 
modern  theory  of  rent,  which  is  now  the  corner  stone  of  political  economy,  was 
got  at,  not  by  generalizing  economical  facts  but  by  reasoning  downwards  after 
the  manner  of  geometricians.  Indeed,  those  who  oppose  the  theory  of  rent 
always  do  so  on  the  ground  that  it  is  contradicted  by  facts ;  and  then,  with  com- 
plete ignorance  of  the  philosophy  of  method,  they  infer  that  therefore  the  theory 
is  wrong.  See,  for  instance,  Jones  on  the  Distribution  of  Wealth,  8vo,  1831 :  a 
book  containing  some  interesting  facts,  but  vitiated  by  this  capital  defect  of 
method.  See  also  Journal  of  Statistical  Society,  Vol.  I,  p.  317;  Vol.  VI,  p.  322, 
where  it  is  said  that  economical  theories  should  be  generalized  from  statistical 
facts.  Compare  Vol.  XVII,  p.  116;  Vol.  XVIII,  p.  101. 

1  A  striking  instance  has  lately  come  to  light  of  the  sagacity  with  which  Hume 
employed  this  method.    See  Burton's  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Hume,  Vol.  II, 
p.  486,  where  we  find  that  immediately  after  Hume  had  read  the  Wealth  of  Nations, 
he  detected  Smith's  error  concerning  rent  being  an  element  of  price ;  so  that  it 
now  appears  that  Hume  was  the  first  to  make  this  great  discovery  as  far  as  the 
idea  is  concerned,  though  Ricardo  has  the  merit  of  proving  it. 

2  The  historical  facts  he  introduces  are  merely  illustrations,  as  any  one  will 
see  who  will  read  The  Natural  History  of  Religion,  in  Hume's  Philos.  Works, 
Vol.  IV,  pp.  435-513,  Edinburgh,  1826.   I  may  mention  that  there  is  a  considerable 
similarity  between  the  views  advocated  in  this  remarkable  essay  and  the  religious 
stages  of  Comte's  Philosophic  Positive  ;  for  Hume's  early  form  of  polytheism  is 
evidently  the  same  as  M.  Comte's  fetichism,  from  which  both  these  writers  believe 
that  monotheism  subsequently  arose  as  a  later  and  more  refined  abstraction. 
That  this  was  the  course  adopted  by  the  human  mind  is  highly  probable  and  is 


544  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

instead  of  first  collecting  the  evidence  and  then  drawing  infer- 
ences from  it,  he  began  by  assuming  that  the  relations  between 
the  people  and  the  government  must  have  followed  a  certain 
order,  and  he  either  neglected  or  distorted  the  facts  by  which 
this  supposition  was  contradicted.1  These  different  writers, 
though  varying  in  their  principles  and  in  the  subjects  they  stud- 
ied, were  all  agreed  as  to  their  method ;  that  is  to  say,  they 
were  all  agreed  to  investigate  truth  rather  by  descent  than  by 
ascent.  The  immense  social  importance  of  this  peculiarity  I 
shall  examine  in  the  next  volume,  where  I  shall  endeavor  to 
ascertain  how  it  affected  the  national  civilization  and  caused 
some  curious  contrasts  with  the  opposite  and  more  empirical 
character  of  English  literature.  In  the  meantime,  and  merely 
to  state  what  will  be  hereafter  proved,  I  may  add  that  the  de- 
ductive method  was  not  only  employed  by  those  eminent  Scotch- 
men I  have  mentioned  but  was  carried  into  the  speculative 
History  of  Civil  Society  by  Ferguson ;  into  the  study  of  legis- 
lation by  Mill;  into  the  study  of  jurisprudence  by  Mackintosh; 
into  geology  by  Hutton  ;  into  thermotics  by  Black  and  Leslie ; 
into  physiology  by  Hunter,  by  Alexander  Walker,  and  by  Charles 
Bell ;  into  pathology  by  Cullen  ;  into  therapeutics  by  Brown  and 
Currie. 

confirmed  by  the  learned  researches  of  Mr.  Grote.  See  his  History  of  Greece, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  462,  497 ;  Vol.  V,  p.  22.  The  opposite  and  more  popular  opinion,  of 
monotheism  preceding  idolatry,  was  held  by  most  of  the  great  earlier  writers,  and 
is  defended  by  many  moderns,  and  among  others  by  Dr.  Whewell  (Bridgewater 
Treatise,  p.  256),  who  expresses  himself  with  considerable  confidence  :  see  also 
Letters  from  Warburton  to  Hurd,  p.  239.  Compare  Thirlwall's  History  of 
Greece,  Vol.  I,  p.  183,  London,  1835,  with  the  "  einige  Funken  des  Monotheis- 
mus"  of  Kant,  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,  in  Kant's  Werke,  Vol.  II,  p.  455. 

1  That  is  to  say,  he  treated  historical  facts  as  merely  illustrative  of  certain 
general  principles,  which  he  believed  could  be  proved  without  the  facts  ;  so  that, 
as  M.  Schlosser  (History  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Vol.  II,  p.  76)  well  says, 
"  History  with  Hume  was  only  a  subordinate  pursuit,  only  a  means  by  which  he 
might  introduce  his  philosophy,"  etc.  Considering  how  little  is  known  of  the 
principles  which  govern  social  and  political  changes,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
Hume  was  premature  in  the  application  of  this  method ;  but  it  is  absurd  to  call 
the  method  dishonest,  since  the  object  of  his  history  was  not  to  prove  conclu- 
sions but  to  illustrate  them;  and  he  therefore  thought  himself  justified  in  select- 
ing the  illustrations.  I  am  simply  stating  his  views,  without  at  all  defending 
them ;  indeed,  I  believe  that  in  this  respect  he  was  seriously  in  the  wrong. 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     545 

This  is  an  outline  of  the  plan  I  purpose  to  follow  in  the  pres- 
ent introduction,  and  by  means  of  which  I  hope  to  arrive  at  some 
results  of  permanent  value.  For  by  studying  different  principles 
in  those  countries  where  they  have  been  most  developed,  the 
laws  of  the  principles  will  be  more  easily  unfolded  than  if  we 
had  studied  them  in  countries  where  they  are  very  obscure. 
And  inasmuch  as  in  England  civilization  has  followed  a  course 
more  orderly  and  less  disturbed  than  in  any  other  country,  it 
becomes  the  more  necessary,  in  writing  its  history,  to  use  some 
resources  like  those  which  I  have  suggested.  What  makes  the 
history  of  England  so  eminently  valuable  is,  that  nowhere  else 
has  the  national  progress  been  so  little  interfered  with,  either 
for  good  or  for  evil.  But  the  mere  fact  that  our  civilization  has 
by  this  means  been  preserved  in  a  more  natural  and  healthy 
state  renders  it  incumbent  on  us  to  study  the  diseases  to  which 
it  is  liable,  by  observing  those  other  countries  where  social  dis- 
ease is  more  rife.  The  security  and  the  durability  of  civilization 
must  depend  on  the  regularity  with  which  its  elements  are  com- 
bined, and  on  the  harmony  with  which  they  work.  If  any  one 
element  is  too  active,  the  whole  composition  will  be  in  danger. 
Hence  it  is,  that  although  the  laws  of  the  composition  of  the 
elements  will  be  best  ascertained  wherever  we  can  find  the  com- 
position most  complete,  we  must,  nevertheless,  search  for  the 
laws  of  each  separate  element  wherever  we  can  find  the  element 
itself  most  active.  While,  therefore,  I  have  selected  the  history 
of  England  as  that  in  which  the  harmony  of  the  different  prin- 
ciples has  been  longest  maintained,  I  have  precisely  on  that 
account  thought  it  advisable  to  study  each  principle  separately 
in  the  country  where  it  has  been  most  powerful,  and  where  by 
its  inordinate  development  the  equilibrium  of  the  entire  structure 
has  been  disturbed. 

By  adopting  these  precautions  we  shall  be  able  to  remove 
many  of  the  difficulties  which  still  beset  the  study  of  history. 
Before,  however,  entering  that  wide  field  which  now  lies  in  our 
way,  it  will  be  well  to  clear  up  some  preliminary  points  which  I 
have  not  yet  noticed,  and  the  discussion  of  which  may  obviate 
certain  objections  that  might  otherwise  be  raised.  The  subjects 


546  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  which  I  allude  are  Religion,  Literature,  and  Government : 
three  topics  of  vast  importance,  and  which,  in  the  opinion  of 
many  persons,  are  the  prime  movers  of  human  affairs.  That 
this  opinion  is  altogether  erroneous  will  be  amply  proved  in  the 
present  work ;  but  as  the  opinion  is  widely  spread  and  is  very 
plausible,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  at  once  come  to  some 
understanding  respecting  it,  and  inquire  into  the  real  nature  of 
that  influence  which  these  three  great  powers  do  actually  exercise 
over  the  progress  of  civilization. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  evident  that  if  a  people  were  left 
entirely  to  themselves,  their  religion,  their  literature,  and  their 
government  would  be  not  the  causes  of  their  civilization  but 
the  effects  of  it.  Out  of  a  certain  condition  of  society  certain 
results  naturally  follow.  Those  results  may,  no  doubt,  be  tam- 
pered with  by  some  external  agency;  but  if  that  is  not  done,  it 
is  impossible  that  a  highly  civilized  people,  accustomed  to  reason 
and  to  doubt,  should  ever  embrace  a  religion  of  which  the  glaring 
absurdities  set  reason  and  doubt  at  defiance.  There  are  many 
instances  of  nations  changing  their  religion,  but  there  is  no  in- 
stance of  a  progressive  country  voluntarily  adopting  a  retrogres- 
sive religion  ;  neither  is  there  any  example  of  a  declining  country 
ameliorating  its  religion.  It  is  of  course  true  that  a  good  religion 
is  favorable  to  civilization,  and  a  bad  one  unfavorable  to  it.  Un- 
less, however,  there  is  some  interference  from  without,  no  people 
will  ever  discover  that  their  religion  is  bad  until  their  reason  tells 
them  so ;  but  if  their  reason  is  inactive,  and  their  knowledge 
stationary,  the  discovery  will  never  be  made.  A  country  that 
continues  in  its  old  ignorance  will  always  remain  in  its  old  reli- 
gion. Surely  nothing  can  be  plainer  than  this.  A  very  ignorant 
people  will,  by  virtue  of  their  ignorance,  incline  towards  a  reli- 
gion full  of  marvels  ;  a  religion  which  boasts  of  innumerable  gods, 
and  which  ascribes  every  occurrence  to  the  immediate  authority 
of  those  gods.  On  the  other  hand,  a  people  whose  knowledge 
makes  them  better  judges  of  evidence,  and  who  are  accustomed 
to  that  most  difficult  task,  the  practice  of  doubting,  will  require 
a  religion  less  marvelous,  less  obtrusive  ;  one  that  taxes  their 
credulity  less  heavily.  But  will  you  therefore  say  that  the 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     547 

badness  of  the  first  religion  causes  the  ignorance,  and  that  the 
goodness  of  the  second  religion  causes  the  knowledge  ?  Will 
you  say  that  when  one  event  precedes  another  the  one  which 
comes  first  is  the  effect,  and  the  one  which  follows  afterwards  is 
the  cause  ?  This  is  not  the  way  in  which  men  reason  on  the 
ordinary  affairs  of  life ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  see  why  they  should 
reason  thus  respecting  the  history  of  past  events. 

The  truth  is  that  the  religious  opinions  which  prevail  in  any 
period  are  among  the  symptoms  by  which  that  period  is  marked. 
When  the  opinions  are  deeply  rooted  they  do,  no  doubt,  in- 
fluence the  conduct  of  men ;  but  before  they  can  be  deeply 
rooted,  some  intellectual  change  must  first  have  taken  place. 
We  may  as  well  expect  that  the  seed  should  quicken  in  the 
barren  rock  as  that  a  mild  and  philosophic  religion  should  be 
established  among  ignorant  and  ferocious  savages.  Of  this  in- 
numerable experiments  have  been  made,  and  always  with  the 
same  result.  Men  of  excellent  intentions  and  full  of  a  fervent 
though  mistaken  zeal  have  been,  and  still  are,  attempting  to 
propagate  their  own  religion  among  the  inhabitants  of  barbarous 
countries.  By  strenuous  and  unremitting  activity,  and  frequently 
by  promises,  and  even  by  actual  gifts,  they  have  in  many  cases 
persuaded  savage  communities  to  make  a  profession  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  But  whoever  will  compare  the  triumphant  reports 
of  the  missionaries  with  the  long  chain  of  evidence  supplied  by 
competent  travelers  will  soon  find  that  such  profession  is  only 
nominal,  and  that  these  ignorant  tribes  have  adopted,  indeed, 
the  ceremonies  of  the  new  religion,  but  have  by  no  means 
adopted  the  religion  itself.  They  receive  the  externals,  but  there 
they  stop.  They  may  baptize  their  children  ;  they  may  take  the 
sacrament ;  they  may  flock  to  the  church.  All  this  they  may  do, 
and  yet  be  as  far  removed  from  the  spirit  of  Christianity  as  when 
they  bowed  the  knee  before  their  former  idols.  The  rites  and 
forms  of  a  religion  lie  on  the  surface  ;  they  are  at  once  seen, 
they  are  quickly  learned,  easily  copied  by  those  who  are  unable 
to  penetrate  to  that  which  lies  beneath.  It  is  this  deeper  and 
inward  change  which  alone  is  durable ;  and  this  the  savage  can 
never  experience  while  he  is  sunk  in  an  ignorance  that  levels 


548  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

him  with  the  brutes  by  which  he  is  surrounded.  "Remove  the 
ignorance,  and  then  the  religion  may  enter.  This  is  the  only 
course  by  which  ultimate  benefit  can  be  effected.  After  a  care- 
ful study  of  the  history  and  condition  of  barbarous  nations,  I 
do  most  confidently  assert  that  there  is  no  well-attested  case  of 
any  people  being  permanently  converted  to  Christianity,  except 
in  those  very  few  instances  where  missionaries,  being  men  of 
knowledge  as  well  as  men  of  piety,  have  familiarized  the  savage 
with  habits  of  thought,  and  by  thus  stimulating  his  intellect  have 
prepared  him  for  the  reception  of  those  religious  principles  which, 
without  such  stimulus,  he  could  never  have  understood.1 

It  is  in  this  way  that,  looking  at  things  upon  a  large  scale,  the 
religion  of  mankind  is  the  effect  of  their  improvement,  not  the 
cause  of  it.  But  looking  at  things  upon  a  small  scale,  or  taking 
what  is  called  a  practical  view  of  some  short  and  special  period, 
circumstances  will  occasionally  occur  which  disturb  this  general 
order,  and  apparently  reverse  the  natural  process.  And  this,  as 
in  all  such  cases,  can  only  arise  from  the  peculiarities  of  individ- 
ual men,  who,  moved  by  the  minor  laws  which  regulate  individual 
actions,  are  able,  by  their  genius  or  their  energy,  to  interfere 
with  the  operation  of  those  greater  laws  which  regulate  large 
societies.  Owing  to  circumstances  still  unknown,  there  appear 
from  time  to  time  great  thinkers,  who,  devoting  their  lives  to  a 

1  A  writer  of  great  authority  has  made  some  remarks  on  this  which  are  worth 
attending  to :  "  Ce  fut  alors  que  les  Jesuites  penetrerent  dans  la  Chine  pour  y 
precher  1'evangile.  Us  ne  tarderent  pas  i  s'apercevoir  qu'un  des  moyens  les  plus 
efficaces  pour  s'y  maintenir,  en  attendant  le  moment  que  le  ciel  avoit  marque 
pour  eclairer  ce  vaste  empire,  etoit  d'etaler  des  connoissances  astronomiques  " 
(Montucla,  Histoire  des  Mathematiques,  Vol.  I,  p.  468 ;  and  see  Vol.  II,  pp.  586, 
587).  Cuvier  delicately  hints  at  the  same  conclusion.  He  says  of  Emery  :  "  II  se 
souvenait  que  1'epoque  oil  le  christianisme  a  fait  le  plus  de  conquetes,  et  ou  ses 
ministres  ont  obtenu  le  plus  de  respect,  est  celle,  ou  ils  portaient  chez  les  peuples 
convertis  les  lumieres  des  lettres,  en  meme  temps  que  les  verites  de  la  religion, 
et  ou  ils  formaient  &  la  fois  dans  les  nations  1'ordre  le  plus  eminent  et  le  plus 
eclaire"  (Cuvier,  filoges  Historiques,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  170).  Even  Southey  (History 
of  Brazil,  Vol.  II,  p.  378)  says :  "  Missionaries  have  always  complained  of  the 
fickleness  of  their  converts ;  and  they  must  always  complain  of  it,  till  they  dis- 
cover that  some  degree  of  civilization  must  precede  conversion,  or  at  least  accom- 
pany it."  And  see,  to  the  same  effect,  Halkett's  Notes  on  the  North  American 
Indians,  pp.  352,  353,  and  Combe's  North  America,  Vol.  I,  p.  250;  Vol.  II,  p.  353. 


549 

single  purpose,  are  able  to  anticipate  the  progress  of  mankind, 
and  to  produce  a  religion  or  a  philosophy  by  which  important 
effects  are  eventually  brought  about.  But  if  we  look  into  history 
we  shall  clearly  see  that  although  the  origin  of  a  new  opinion 
may  be  thus  due  to  a  single  man,  the  result  which  the  new  opin- 
ion produces  will  depend  on  the  condition  of  the  people  among 
whom  it  is  propagated.  If  either  a  religion  or  a  philosophy  is 
too  much  in  advance  of  a  nation,  it  can  do  no  present  service, 
but  must  bide  its  time,  until  the  minds  of  men  are  ripe  for  its 
reception.  Of  this  innumerable  instances  will  occur  to  most 
readers.  Every  science  and  every  creed  has  had  its  martyrs : 
men  exposed  to  obloquy,  or  even  to  death,  because  they  knew 
more  than  their  contemporaries,  and  because  society  was  not 
sufficiently  advanced  to  receive  the  truths  which  they  communi- 
cated. According  to  the  ordinary  course  of  affairs,  a  few  gener- 
ations pass  away,  and  then  there  .comes  a  period  when  these 
very  truths  are  looked  upon  as  commonplace  facts ;  and  a  little 
later  there  comes  another  period,  in  which  they  afe  declared  to 
be  necessary,  and  even  the  dullest  intellects  wonder  how  they 
could  ever  have  been  denied.  This  is  what  happens  when  the 
human  mind  is  allowed  to  have  fair  play,  and  to  exercise  itself 
with  tolerable  freedom  in  the  accumulation  and  diffusion  of 
knowledge.  If,  however,  by  violent,  and  therefore  by  artificial, 
means,  this  same  society  is  prevented  from  exercising  its  intel- 
lect, then  the  truths,  however  important  they  may  be,  can  never 
be  received.  For  why  should  certain  truths  be  rejected  in  one 
age  and  acknowledged  in  another  ?  The  truths  remain  the 
same  ;  their  ultimate  recognition  must  therefore  be  due  to  a 
change  in  the  society  which  now  accepts  what  it  had  before  de- 
spised. Indeed,  history  is  full  of  evidence  of  the  utter  ineffi- 
ciency even  of  the  noblest  principles,  when  they  are  promulgated 
among  a  very  ignorant  nation.  Thus  it  was  that  the  doctrine  of 
One  God,  taught  to  the  Hebrews  of  old,  remained  for  many 
centuries  altogether  inoperative.  The  people  to  whom  it  was 
addressed  had  not  yet  emerged  from  barbarism ;  they  were, 
therefore,  unable  to  raise  their  minds  to  so  elevated  a  concep- 
tion. Like  all  other  barbarians,  they  also  craved  a  religion 


550  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

which  would  feed  their  credulity  with  incessant  wonders  ;  and 
which,  instead  of  abstracting  the  Deity  to  a  single  essence, 
would  multiply  their  gods  until  they  covered  every  field,  and 
swarmed  in  every  forest.  This  is  the  idolatry  which  is  the 
natural  fruit  of  ignorance ;  and  this  it  is  to  which  the  Hebrews 
were  perpetually  recurring.  Notwithstanding  the  most  severe 
and  unremitting  punishments,  they  at  every  opportunity  aban- 
doned that  pure  theism  which  their  minds  were  too  backward 
to  receive,  and  relapsed  into  superstitions  which  they  could 
more  easily  understand,  —  into  the  worship  of  the  golden  calf, 
and  the  adoration  of  the  brazen  serpent.  Now,  and  in  this  age 
of  the  world,  they  have  long  ceased  to  do  these  things.  And 
why  ?  Not  because  their  religious  feelings  are  more  easily 
aroused,  or  their  religious  fears  more  often  excited.  So  far  from 
this,  they  are  dissevered  from  their  old  associations  ;  they  have 
lost  forever  those  scenes  by  which  men  might  well  have  been 
moved.  They  are  no  longer  influenced  by  those  causes  which 
inspired  emotions,  sometimes  of  terror,  sometimes  of  gratitude. 
They  no  longer  witness  the  pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  or  the  pillar 
of  fire  by  night  ;  they  no  longer  see  the  Law  being  given  from 
Sinai,  nor  do  they  hear  the  thunder  rolling  from  Horeb.  In  the 
presence  of  these  great  appeals,  they  remained  idolaters  in  their 
hearts,  and  whenever  an  opportunity  occurred  they  became  idol- 
aters in  their  practice ;  and  this  they  did  because  they  were  in 
that  state  of  barbarism  of  which  idolatry  is  -the  natural  product. 
To  what  possible  circumstance  can  their  subsequent  change  be 
ascribed,  except  to  the  simple  fact  that  the  Hebrews,  like  all 
other  people,  as  they  advanced  in  civilization,  began  to  abstract 
and  refine  their  religion,  and,  despising  the  old  worship  of  many 
gods,  thus  by  slow  degrees  elevated  their  minds  to  that  steady 
perception  of  One  Great  Cause,  which,  at  an  earlier  period,  it 
had  been  vainly  attempted  to  impress  upon  them  ? 

Thus  intimate  is  the  connection  between  the  opinions  of  a 
people  and  their  knowledge,  and  thus  necessary  is  it  that,  so  far 
as  nations  are  concerned,  intellectual  activity  should  precede  reli- 
gious improvement.  If  we  require  further  illustrations  of  this 
important  truth,  we  shall  find  them  in  the  events  which  occurred 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     551 

in  Europe  soon  after  the  promulgation  of  Christianity.  The 
Romans  were,  with  rare  exceptions,  an  ignorant  and  barbarous 
race,  —  ferocious,  dissolute,  and  cruel.  For  such  a  people,  poly- 
theism was  the  natural  creed  ;  and  we  read  accordingly  that  they 
practiced  an  idolatry  which  a  few  great  thinkers,  and  only  a  few, 
ventured  to  despise.  The  Christian  religion,  falling  among  these 
men,  found  them  unable  to  appreciate  its  sublime  and  admirable 
doctrines.  And  when,  a  little  later,  Europe  was  overrun  by  fresh 
immigrations,  the  invaders,  who  were  even  more  barbarous  than 
the  Romans,  brought  with  them  those  superstitions  which  were 
suited  to  their  actual  condition.  It  was  upon  the  materials  aris- 
ing from  these  two  sources  that  Christianity  was  now  called  to 
do  her  work.  The  result  is  most  remarkable.  For  after  the  new 
religion  seemed  to  have  carried  all  before  it,  and  had  received 
the  homage  of  the  best  part  of  Europe,  it  was  soon  found  that 
nothing  had  been  really  effected.  It  was  soon  found  that  society 
was  in  that  early  stage  in  which  superstition  is  inevitable,  and  in 
which  men  if  they  do  not  have  it  in  one  form  will  have  it  in 
another.  It  was  in  vain  that  Christianity  taught  a  simple  doc- 
trine, and  enjoined  a  simple  worship.  The  minds  of  men  were 
too  backward  for  so  great  a  step,  and  required  more  complicated 
forms  and  a  more  complicated  belief.  What  followed  is  well 
known  to  the  students  of  ecclesiastical  history.  The  supersti- 
tion of  Europe,  instead  of  being  diminished,  was  only  turned  into 
a  fresh  channel.  The  new  religion  was  corrupted  by  the  old 
follies.  The  adoration  of  idols  was  succeeded  by  the  adoration  of 
saints  ;  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  was  substituted  for  the  worship 
of  Cybele  ; l  pagan  ceremonies  were  established  in  Christian 
churches;  not  only  the  mummeries  of  idolatry  but  likewise  its 
doctrines  were  quickly  added,  and  were  incorporated  and  worked 
into  the  spirit  of  the  new  religion,  until  after  the  lapse  of  a  few 
generations,  Christianity  exhibited  so  grotesque  and  hideous  a 

1  This  is  curiously  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  the  25th  of  March,  which  is  now 
called  Lady-day,  in  honor  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  was  in  pagan  times  called  Hilaria, 
and  was  dedicated  to  Cybele,  the  mother  of  the  gods.  Compare  Blunt's  Vestiges 
of  Ancient  Manners,  8vo,  1823,  pp.  51-55,  with  Hampson's  Medii  fiLvi  Kalen- 
darium,  8vo,  1841,  Vol.  I,  pp.  56,  177. 


552  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

form  that  its  best  features  were  lost,  and  the  lineaments  of  its 
earlier  loveliness  altogether  destroyed.1 

After  some  centuries  were  passed,  Christianity  slowly  emerged 
from  these  corruptions,  many  of  which,  however,  even  the  most 
civilized  countries  have  not  yet  been  able  to  throw  off.2  Indeed, 
it  was  found  impossible  to  effect  even  the  beginning  of  a  reform 
until  the  European  intellect  was  in  some  degree  roused  from  its 
lethargy.  The  knowledge  of  men,  gradually  advancing,  made 
them  indignant  at  superstitions  which  they  had  formerly  admired. 
The  way  in  which  their  indignation  increased,  until  in  the  six- 
teenth century  it  broke  out  into  that  great  event  which  is  well 
called  the  Reformation,  forms  one  of  the  most  interesting  subjects 
in  modern  history.  But  for  our  present  purpose  it  is  enough  to 
keep  in  mind  the  memorable  and  important  fact  that  for  cen- 
turies after  Christianity  was  the  established  religion  of  Europe, 
it  failed  to  bear  its  natural  fruit,  because  its  lot  was  cast  among 
a  people  whose  ignorance  compelled  them  to  be  superstitious, 
and  who,  on  account  of  their  superstition,  defaced  a  system  which 
in  its  original  purity  they  were  unable  to  receive.3 

Indeed,  in  every  page  of  history  we  meet  with  fresh  evidence 
of  the  little  effect  religious  doctrines  can  produce  upon  a  people 

1  On  this  interesting  subject,  the  two  best  English  books  are  Middleton's 
Letter  from  Rome,  and  Priestley's  History  of  the  Corruptions  of  Christianity ; 
the  former  work  being  chiefly  valuable  for  ritual  corruptions,  the  latter  work  for 
doctrinal  ones.    Blunt's  Vestiges  of  Ancient  Manners  is  also  worth  reading,  but 
is  very  inferior  to  the  two  treatises  just  named,  and  is  conceived  in  a  much  nar- 
rower spirit. 

2  The  large  amount  of  paganism  which  still  exists  in  every  Christian  sect 
forms  an  argument  against  an  ingenious  distinction  which  M.  Bunsen  has  made 
between  the  change  of  a  religion  and  that  of  a  language,  alterations  in  a  religion 
being,  as  he  supposes,  always  more  abrupt  than  those  in  a  language  (Bunsen's 
Egypt,  Vol.  I,  pp.  358,  359). 

8  It  was  necessary,  says  M.  Maury,  that  the  church  "  se  rapprochat  davantage 
de  1'esprit  grossier,  inculte,  ignorant  du  barbare  "  (Maury,  Legendes  Pieuses  du 
Moyen  Age,  p.  101).  An  exactly  similar  process  has  taken  place  in  India,  where 
the  Puranas  are  to  the  Vedas  what  the  works  of  the  fathers  are  to  the  New 
Testament.  Compare  Elphinstone's  History  of  India,  pp.  87,  88,  98 ;  Wilson's 
Preface  to  the  Vishnu  Purana,  p.  vii ;  and  Transactions  of  Bombay  Society,  Vol.  I, 
p.  205.  So  that,  as  M.  Max  Miiller  well  expresses  it,  the  Puranas  are  "  a  sec- 
ondary formation  of  Indian  mythology  "  (Miiller  on  the  Languages  of  India,  in 
Reports  of  the  British  Association  for  1847,  P-  324)- 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     553 

unless  preceded  by  intellectual  culture.  The  influence  exercised 
by  Protestantism,  as  compared  with  Catholicism,  affords  an  inter- 
esting example  of  this.  The  Catholic  religion  bears  to  the  Prot- 
estant religion  exactly  the  same  relation  that  the  Dark  Ages 
bear  to  the  sixteenth  century.  In  the  Dark  Ages  men  were 
credulous  and  ignorant  ;  they  therefore  produced  a  religion  which 
required  great  belief  and  little  knowledge.  In  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury their  credulity  and  ignorance,  though  still  considerable,  were 
rapidly  diminishing,  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  organize  a 
religion  suited  to  their  altered  circumstances ;  a  religion  more 
favorable  to  free  inquiry ;  a  religion  less  full  of  miracles,  saints, 
legends,  and  idols ;  a  religion  of  which  the  ceremonies  were  less 
frequent  and  less  burdensome;  a  religion  which  should  discourage 
penance,  fasting,  confession,  celibacy,  and  those  other  mortifica- 
tions which  had  long  been  universal.  All  this  was  done  by  the 
establishment  of  Protestantism  :  a  mode  of  worship  which,  being 
thus  suited  to  the  age,  made,  as  is  well  known,  speedy  progress. 
If  this  great  movement  had  been  allowed  to  proceed  without 
interruption,  it  would  in  the  course  of  a  few  generations  have 
overthrown  the  old  superstition  and  established  in  its  place  a 
simpler  and  less  troublesome  creed,  the  rapidity  with  which  this 
was  done  being  of  course  proportioned  to  the  intellectual  activity 
of  the  different  countries.  But  unfortunately  the  European  gov- 
ernments, who  are  always  meddling  in  matters  with  which  they 
have  no  concern,  thought  it  their  duty  to  protect  the  religious 
interests  of  the  people  ;  and  making  common  cause  with  the 
Catholic  clergy,  they,  in  many  instances,  forcibly  stopped  the 
heresy  and  thus  arrested  the  natural  development  of  the  age. 
This  interference  was,  in  nearly  all  cases,  well  intended,  and  is 
solely  to  be  ascribed  to  the  ignorance  of  rulers  respecting  the 
proper  limits  of  their  functions;  but  the  evils  caused  by  this 
ignorance  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate.  During  almost  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  Europe  was  afflicted  by  religious  wars, 
religious  massacres,  and  religious  persecutions  ;  not  one  of  which 
would  have  arisen  if  the  great  truth  had  been  recognized  that  the 
state  has  no  concern  with  the  opinions  of  men,  and  no  right  to 
interfere,  even  in  the  slightest  degree,  with  the  form  of  worship 


554  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

which  they  may  choose  to  adopt.  This  principle  was,  however, 
formerly  unknown,  or  at  all  events  unheeded,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  that  the  great  reli- 
gious contests  were  brought  to  a  final  close,  and  the  different 
countries  settled  down  into  their  public  creeds,  which  in  the 
essential  points  have  never  since  been  permanently  altered;  no 
nation  having  for  more  than  two  hundred  years  made  war  upon 
another  on  account  of  its  religion,  and  all  the  great  Catholic 
countries  having,  during  the  same  period,  remained  Catholic,  all 
the  great  Protestant  ones  remained  Protestant. 

From  this  it  has  arisen  that  in  several  of  the  European  coun- 
tries the  religious  development  has  not  followed  its  natural  order, 
but  has  been  artificially  forced  into  an  unnatural  one.  Accord- 
ing to  the  natural  order,  the  most  civilized  countries  should 
all  be  Protestants,  and  the  most  uncivilized  ones  Catholics.  In 
the  average  of  instances  this  is  actually  the  case,  so  that  many 
persons  have  been  led  into  the  singular  error  of  ascribing  all 
modern  enlightenment  to  the  influence  of  Protestantism,  over- 
looking the  important  fact  that  until  the  enlightenment  had  begun 
Protestantism  was  never  required.  But  although  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  affairs  the  advance  of  the  Reformation  would  have  been 
the  measure  and  the  symptom  of  that  advance  of  knowledge  by 
which  it  was  preceded,  still  in  many  cases  the  authority  of  the 
government  and  of 'the  church  acted  as  disturbing  causes,  and 
frustrated  the  natural  progress  of  religious  improvement.  And 
after  the  treaty  of  Westphalia  had  fixed  the  political  relations  of 
Europe,  the  love  of  theological  strife  so  greatly  subsided  that 
men  no  longer  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  raise  a  religious 
revolution,  and  to  risk  their  lives  in  an  attempt  to  overturn  the 
creed  of  the  state.  At  the  same  time,  governments,  not  bejng 
themselves  particularly  fond  of  revolutions,  have  encouraged  this 
stationary  condition  •  and  very  naturally  and,  as  it  appears  to  me, 
very  wisely  have  made  no  alteration,  but  have  left  the  national 
establishments  as  they  found  them  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  Protestant 
ones  Protestant,  the  Catholic  ones  Catholic.  Hence  it  is  that  the 
national  religion  professed  by  any  country  at  the  present  moment 
is  no  decisive  criterion  of  the  present  civilization  of  the  country, 
because  the*  circumstances  which  fixed  thu  religion  occurred  long 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      555 

since,  and  the  religion  remains  endowed  and  established  by  the 
mere  continuance  of  an  impetus  which  was  formerly  given. 

Thus  far  as  to  the  origin  of  the  ecclesiastical  establishments 
of  Europe.  But  in  their  practical  consequences  we  see  some 
results  which  are  highly  instructive.  For  many  countries  owing 
their  national  creed  not  to  their  own  proper  antecedents  but  to 
the  authority  of  powerful  individuals,  it  will  be  invariably  found 
that  in  such  countries  the  creed  does  not  produce  the  effects 
which  might  have  been  expected  from  it,  and  which,  according  to 
its  terms,  it  ought  to  produce.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  Catholic 
religion  is  more  superstitious  and  more  intolerant  than  the  Prot- 
estant, but  it  by  no  means  follows  that  those  countries  which 
profess  the  former  creed  must  be  more  superstitious  and  more 
intolerant  than  those  which  profess  the  latter.  So  far  from  this, 
the  French  are  not  only  quite  as  free  from  those  odious  qualities 
as  are  the  most  civilized  Protestants  but  they  are  more  free  from 
them  than  some  Protestant  nations,  as  the  Scotch  and  the  Swedes. 
Of  the  highly  educated  class  I  am  not  here  speaking,  but  of  the 
clergy  and  of  the  people  generally,  it  must  be  admitted  that  in 
Scotland  there  is  more  bigotry,  more  superstition,  and  a  more 
thorough  contempt  for  the  religion. of  others  than  there  is  in 
France.  And  in  Sweden,  which  is  one  of  the  oldest  Protestant 
countries  in  Europe,1  there  is  not  occasionally  but  habitually  an 
intolerance  and  a  spirit  of  persecution  which  would  be  discredit- 
able to  a  Catholic  country,  but  which  is  doubly  disgraceful  when 
proceeding  from  a  people  who  profess  to  base  their  religion  on 
the  right  of  private  judgment.2 

1  The  doctrines  of  Luther  were  first  preached  in  Sweden  in  1519;   and  in 
1527  the  principles  of  the  Reformation  were  formally  adopted  in  an  assembly  of 
the  States  at  Westeraas,  which  enabled  Gustavus  Vasa  to  seize  the  property  of  the 
church.    See  Geijer's  History  of  the  Swedes,  Part  I,  pp.  no,  118, 119;  Mosheim's 
Ecclesiastical  History,  Vol.  II,  p.  22  ;  Crichton  and  Wheaton's  History  of  Scan- 
dinavia, Vol.  I,  pp.  399,  400.    The  apostasy  proceeded  so  favorably  that  De  Thou 
(Histoire  Univ.,  Vol.  XIII,  p.  312)  says,  in  1598,  "II  y  avoit  dej&  si  long-terns  que 
ce  culte  etoit  etabli  en  Suede,  qu'il  etoit  comme  impossible  de  trouver,  soit  parmi 
le  peuple,  soit  parmi  les  seigneurs,  quelqu'un  qui  se  souvint  d'avoir  vu  dans  ce 
roi'aume  1'exercice  public  de  la  religion  catholique." 

2  On  the  state  of  things  in  1838,  see  some  curious,  and  indeed  shameful,  details 
in  Laing's  Sweden,  8vo,  London,  1839.    Mr.  Laing,  though  himself  a  Protestant, 
truly  says,  that  in  Protestant  Sweden  there  "is  inquisition  law,  working  in  the 
hands  of  a  Lutheran  state-church,  as  strongly  as  in  Spain  or  Portugal  in  the  hands 


556  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

These  things  show,  what  it  would  be  easy  to  prove  by  a  wider 
induction,  that  when  from  special  or,  as  they  are  called,  accidental 
causes,  any  people  profess  a  religion  more  advanced  than  them- 
selves, it  will  not  produce  its  legitimate  effect.1  The  superiority 
of  Protestantism  over  Catholicism  consists  in  its  diminution  of 
superstition  and  intolerance,  and  in  the  check  which  it  gives  to 
ecclesiastical  power.  But  the  experience  of  Europe  teaches  us 
that  when  the  superior  religion  is  fixed  among  an  inferior  people, 
its  superiority  is  no  longer  seen.  The  Scotch  and  the  Swedes  — 
and  to  them  might  be  added  some  of  the  Swiss  cantons  —  are 
less  civilized  than  the  French,  and  are  therefore  more  supersti- 
tious. This  being  the  case,  it  avails  them  little  that  they  have  a 
religion  better  than  the  French.  It  avails  them  little  that,  owing 
to  circumstances  which  have  long  since  passed  away,  they,  three 
centuries  ago,  adopted  a  creed  to  which  the  force  of  habit  and 
the  influence  of  tradition  now  oblige  them  to  cling.  Whoever 
has  traveled  in  Scotland  with  sufficient  attention  to  observe 
the  ideas  and  opinions  of  the  people,  and  whoever  will  look  into 

of  a  Roman  Catholic  church  "  (Laing's  Sweden,  p.  324).  In  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury it  was  ordered  by  the  Swedish  church,  and  the  order  was  confirmed  by  gov- 
ernment, that  "if  any  Swedish  subject  change  his  religion,  he  shall  be  banished 
the  kingdom,  and  lose  all  right  of  inheritance,  both  for  himself  and  his  descend- 
ants. ...  If  any  bring  into  the  country  teachers  of  another  religion,  he  shall  be 
fined  and  banished"  (Burton's  Diary,  8vo,  1828,  Vol.  II,  p.  387).  To  this  may  be 
added,  that  it  was  not  till  1781  that  Roman  Catholics  were  allowed  to  exercise 
their  religion  in  Sweden.  See  Crichton's  History  of  Scandinavia,  Vol.  II,  p.  320, 
Edinburgh,  1838,  See  also,  on  this  intolerant  spirit,  Whitelocke's  Journal  of  the 
Swedish  Embassy,  Vol.  I,  pp.  164,  412  ;  Vol.  II,  p.  212. 

1  We  see  a  good  instance  of  this  in  the  case  of  the  Abyssinians,  who  have  pro- 
fessed Christianity  for  centuries ;  but  as  no  pains  were  taken  to  cultivate  their 
intellect,  they  found  the  religion  too  pure  for  them  ;  they  therefore  corrupted  it, 
and  down  to  the  present  moment  they  have  not  made  the  slightest  progress. 
The  accounts  given  by  Bruce  of  them  are  well  known  ;  and  a  traveler,  who  visited 
them  in  1839,  says :  "  Nothing  can  be  more  corrupt  than  the  nominal  Christianity 
of  this  unhappy  nation.  It  is  mixed  up  with  Judaism,  Mohammedanism,  and 
idolatry,  and  is  a  mass  of  rites  and  superstitions  which  cannot  mend  the  heart " 
(Kraff's  "  Journal  at  Ankobar,"  in  Journal  of  Geographical  Society,  Vol.  X,  p.  488) ; 
see  also  Vol.  XIV,  p.  13;  and  for  a  similar  state  of  things  in  America,  see  the 
account  of  the  Quiche  Indians,  in  Stephens'  Central  America,  Vol.  II,  pp.  191, 
192.  Compare  Squier's  Central  America,  Vol.  I,  pp.  322,  323,  with  Halkett's 
North  American  Indians,  pp.  29,  212,  268.  For  further  confirmation  of  this  view, 
in  another  part  of  the  world,  see  Tuckey's  Expedition  to  the  Zaire,  pp.  79,  80,  165. 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      557 

Scotch  theology,  and  read  the  history  of  the  Scotch  Kirk  and 
the  proceedings  of  the  Scotch  Assemblies  and  Consistories,  will 
see  how  little  the  country  has  benefited  by  its  religion,  and  how 
wide  an  interval  there  is  between  its  intolerant  spirit  and  the 
natural  tendencies  of  the  Protestant  Reformation.  On  the  other 
hand,  whoever  will  subject  France  to  a  similar  examination  will 
see  an  illiberal  religion  accompanied  by  liberal  views,  and  a  creed 
full  of  superstitions  professed  by  a  people  among  whom  super- 
stition is  comparatively  rare. 

The  simple  fact  is,  that  the  French  have  a  religion  worse  than 
themselves,  the  Scotch  have  a  religion  better  than  themselves. 
The  liberality  of  France  is  as  ill  suited  to  Catholicism  as  the 
bigotry  of  Scotland  is  ill  suited  to  Protestantism.  In  these,  as  in 
all  similar  cases,  the  characteristics  of  the  creed  are  overpowered 
by  the  characteristics  of  the  people,  and  the  national  faith  is  in 
the  most  important  points  altogether  inoperative,  because  it  does 
not  harmonize  with  the  civilization  of  the  country  in  which  it  is 
established.  How  idle,  then,  it  is  to  ascribe  the  civilization  to 
the  creed,  and  how  worse  than  foolish  are  the  attempts  of  gov- 
ernment to  protect  a  religion  which,  if  suited  to  the  people, 
will  need  no  protection,  and,  if  unsuited  to  them,  will  work  no 
good  ! 

If  the  reader  has  seized  the  spirit  of  the  preceding  arguments, 
he  will  hardly  require  that  I  should  analyze  with  equal  minuteness 
the  second  disturbing  cause,  namely,  Literature.  It  is  evident 
that  what  has  already  been  said  respecting  the  religion  of  a  people 
is  in  a  great  measure  applicable  to  their  literature.  Literature,1 
when  it  is  in  a  healthy  and  unforced  state,  is  simply  the  form 
in  which  the  knowledge  of  a  country  is  registered,  the  mold  in 
which  it  is  cast.  In  this,  as  in  the  other  cases  we  have  considered, 
individual  men  may  of  course  take  great  steps,  and  rise  to  a  great 
height  above  the  level  of  their  age.  But  if  they  rise  beyond  a 
certain  point,  their  present  usefulness  is  impaired  ;  if  they  rise 

1  I  use  the  word  "  literature  "  not  as  opposed  to  science  but  in  its  larger  sense, 
including  everything  which  is  written,  —  "  taking  the  term  '  literature,'  in  its  pri- 
mary sense  of  an  application  of  letters  to  the  records  of  facts  or  opinions"  (Mure's 
History  of  the  Literature  of  Greece,  Vol.  IV,  p.  50). 


558  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

still  higher,  it  is  destroyed.1  When  the  interval  between  the 
intellectual  classes  and  the  practical  classes  is  too  great  the  former 
will  possess  no  influence,  the  latter  will  reap  no  benefit.  This  is 
what  occurred  in  the  ancient  world  when  the  distance  between 
the  ignorant  idolatry  of  the  people  and  the  refined  systems  of 
philosophers  was  altogether  impassable  ; 2  and  this  is  the  principal 
reason  why  the  Greeks  and  Romans  were  unable  to  retain  the 
civilization  which  they  for  a  short  time  possessed.  Precisely  the 
same  process  is  at  the  present  moment  going  on  in  Germany, 
where  the  most  valuable  part  of  literature  forms  an  esoteric 
system,  which,  having  nothing  in  common  with  the  nation  itself, 
produces  no  effect  on  the  national  civilization.  'The  truth  is,  that 
although  Europe  has  received  great  benefit  from  its  literature,  this 
is  owing  not  to  what  the  literature  has  originated  but  to  what  it 
has  preserved.  Knowledge  must  be  acquired  before  it  can  be 
written,  and  the  only  use  of  books  is  to  serve  as  a  storehouse  in 
which  the  treasures  of  the  intellect  are  safely  kept  and  where  they 
maybe  conveniently  found.  Literature  in  itself  is  but  a  trifling 
matter,  and  is  merely  valuable  as  being  the  armory  in  which  the 

1  Compare  Tocqueville,  Democratic  en  Amerique,  Vol.  II,  p.  130,  with  some 
admirable   remarks  on   the   Sophists   in  Grote's   History  of   Greece,  Vol.  VIII, 
p.  481.    Sir  W.  Hamilton,  whose  learning  respecting  the  history  of  opinions  is  well 
known,  says,  "  Precisely  in  proportion  as  an  author  is  in  advance  of  his  age,  is  it 
likely  that  his  works  will  be  neglected  "  (Hamilton's  Discussions  on  Philosophy, 
p.  186).    Thus  too,  in  regard  to  the  fine  arts,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  (Fourth  Dis- 
course, in  Works,  Vol.  I,  p.  363)  says,  "  Present  time  and  future  may  be  considered 
as  rivals ;  and  he  who  solicits  the  one  must  expect  to  be  discountenanced  by  the 
other." 

2  Hence  the  intellectually  exclusive  and,  as  M.  Neander  well  terms  it,  "aristo- 
cratic spirit  of  antiquity"  (Neander's  History  of  the  Church,  Vol.  I,  pp.  40,  97; 
Vol.  II,  p.  31).    This  is  constantly  overlooked  by  writers  who  use  the  word  "  democ- 
racy "  loosely,  forgetting  that,  in  the  same  age,  democracies  of  politics  may  be 
very  common,  while  democracies  of  thought  are  very  rare.    For  proof  of  the 
universal  prevalence  formerly  of  this  esoteric  and  aristocratic  spirit,  see  the  fol- 
lowing passages  :  Ritter's  History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,  Vol.  I,  p.  338  ;  Vol.  Ill, 
pp.  9,  17;  Tennemann,  Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  Vol.  II,  pp.  200,  205,  220; 
Beausobre,   Histoire  Critique  de  Manichee,  Vol.  II,  p.  41  ;  Matter,  Histoire  du 
Gnosticisme,  Vol.  I,  p.  13;  Vol.  II,  pp.  83,  370;  Sprengel,  Histoire  de  la  Mede- 
cine,  Vol.  I,  p.  250;  Grote's  History  of  Greece,  Vol.  I,  p.  561;  Vol.  IV,  p.  544; 
Thirlwall's   History  of   Greece,   Vol.    II,   p.    150;  Vol.   VI,  p.  95;  Warburton's 
Works,  Vol.  VII,  410,  1788,  pp.  962,  972;   Sharpe's  History  of  Egypt,  Vol.  II, 
p.  174;  Cudworth's  Intellect.  System,  Vol.  II,  pp.  114,  365,  443;  Vol.  Ill,  p.  20. 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      559 

weapons  of  the  human  mind  are  laid  up,  and  from  which,  when 
required,  they  can  be  quickly  drawn.  But  he  would  be  a  sorry 
reasoner,  who,  on  that  account,  should  propose  to  sacrifice  the  end 
that  he  might  obtain  the  means,  who  should  hope  to  defend  the 
armory  by  giving  up  the  weapons,  and  who  should  destroy  the  treas- 
ure in  order  to  improve  the  magazine  in  which  the  treasure  is  kept. 
Yet  this  is  what  .many  persons  are  apt  to  do.  From  literary 
men,  in  particular,  we  hear  too  much  of  the  necessity  of  protect- 
ing and  rewarding  literature,  and  we  hear  too  little  of  the  neces- 
sity of  that  freedom  and  boldness,  in  the  absence  of  which  the 
most  splendid  literature  is  altogether  worthless.  Indeed,  there  is 
a  general  tendency  not  to  exaggerate  the  advantages  of  knowledge 
—  for  that  is  impossible  —  but  to  misunderstand  what  that  is  in 
which  knowledge  really  consists.  Real  knowledge,  the  knowledge 
on  which  all  civilization  is  based,  solely  consists  in  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  relations  which  things  and  ideas  bear  to  each  other 
and  to  themselves ;  in  other  words,  in  an  acquaintance  with  phys- 
ical and  mental  laws.  If  the  time  should  ever  come  when  all  these 
laws  are  known,  the  circle  of  human  knowledge  will  then  be  com- 
plete, and,  in  the  interim,  the  value  of  literature  depends  upon 
the  extent  to  which  it  communicates  either  a  knowledge  of  the 
laws  or  the  materials  by  which  the  laws  may  be  discovered.  The 
business  of  education  is  to  accelerate  this  great  movement  and 
thus  increase  the  fitness  and  aptitude  of  men  by  increasing  the 
resources  which  they  possess.  Towards  this  purpose  literature, 
so  far  as  it  is  auxiliary,  is  highly  useful.  But  to  look  upon  an 
acquaintance  with  literature  as  one  of  the  objects  of  education  is 
to  mistake  the  order  of  events  and  to  make  the  end  subservient 
to  the  means.  It  is  because  this  is  done  that  we  often  find  what 
are  called  highly  educated  men,  the  progress  of  whose  knowledge 
has  been  actually  retarded  by  the  activity  of  their  education. 
We  often  find  them  burdened  by  prejudices  which  their  read- 
ing, instead  of  dissipating,  has  rendered  more  inveterate.1  For 

1  Locke  has  noticed  this  "  learned  ignorance,"  for  which  many  men  are  remark- 
able. See  a  fine  passage  in  the  Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  Book  III, 
chap,  x,  in  Locke's  Works,  Vol.  II,  p.  27,  and  similar  remarks  in  his  Conduct  of 
the  Understanding,  Vol.  II,  pp.  350,  364,  365,  and  in  his  Thoughts  on  Educa- 
tion, Vol.  VIII,  pp.  84-87.  If  this  profound  writer  were  now  alive,  what  a  war  he 


560  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

literature,  being  the  depository  of  the  thoughts  of  mankind,  is  full 
not  only  of  wisdom  but  also  of  absurdities.  The  benefit,  therefore, 
which  is  derived  from  literature  will  depend  not  so  much  upon 
the  literature  itself  as  upon  the  skill  with  which  it  is  studied  and 
the  judgment  with  which  it  is  selected.  These  are  the  preliminary 
conditions  of  success,  and  if  they  are  not  obeyed,  the  number 
and  the  value  of  the  books  in  a  country  become  a  matter  quite 
unimportant.  Even  in  an  advanced  stage  of  civilization  there  is 
always  a  tendency  to  prefer  those  parts  of  literature  which  favor 
ancient  prejudices  rather  than  those  which  oppose  them,  and  in 
cases  where  this  tendency  is  very  strong,  the  only  effect  of  great 
learning  will  be  to  supply  the  materials  which  may  corroborate  old 
errors  and  confirm  old  superstitions.  In  our  time  such  instances 
are  not  uncommon,  and  we  frequently  meet  with  men  whose 
erudition  ministers  to  their  ignorance,  and  who  the  more  they 
read  the  less  they  know.  There  have  been  states  of  society  in 
which  this  disposition  was  so  general  that  literature  has  done  far 
more  harm  than  good.  Thus,  for  example,  in  the  whole  period, 
from  the  sixth  to  the  tenth  centuries,  there  were  not  in  all  Europe 
more  than  three  or  four  men  who  dared  to  think  for  themselves, 
and  even  they  were  obliged  to  veil  their  meaning  in  obscure  and 
mystical  language.  The  remaining  part  of  society  was  during 
these  four  centuries  sunk  in  the  most  degrading  ignorance. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  few  who  were  able  to  read  con- 
fined their  studies  to  works  which  encouraged  and  strengthened 
their  superstition,  such  as  the  legends  of  the  saints  and  the 
homilies  of  the  fathers.  From  these  sources  they  drew  those 
lying  and  impudent  fables  of  which  the  theology  of  that  time  is 
principally  composed.1  These  miserable  stories  were  widely  cir- 
culated, and  were  valued  .as  solid  and  important  truths.  The 
more  the  literature  was  read  the  more  the  stories  were  believed  ; 

would  wage  against  our  great  universities  and  public  schools,  where  innumerable 
things  are  still  taught  which  no  one  is  concerned  to  understand,  and  which  few 
will  take  the  trouble  to  remember!  Compare  Condorcet,  Vie  de  Turgot,  pp.  255, 
256,  note. 

1  The  statistics  of  this  sort  of  literature  would  prove  a  curious  subject  for 
inquiry.  No  one,  I  believe,  has  thought  it  worth  while  to  sum  them  up;  but 
M.  Guizot  has  made  an  estimate  that  the  Bollandist  collection  contains  more  than 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND   GOVERNMENT      561 

in  other  words,  the  greater  the  learning  the  greater  the  igno- 
rance.1 And  I  entertain  no  doubt  that  if,  in  the  seventh  and 
eighth  centuries,  which  were  the  worst  part  of  that  period,2  all 
knowledge  of  the  alphabet  had  for  a  while  been  lost,  so  that  men 
could  no  longer  read  the  books  in  which  they  delighted,  the  sub- 
sequent progress  of  Europe  would  have  been  more  rapid  than  it 
really  was.  For  when  the  progress  began,  its  principal  antagonist 
was  that  credulity  which  the  literature  had  fostered.  It  was  not 
that  better  books  were  wanting,  but  it  was  that  the  relish  for 
such  books  was  extinct.  There  was  the  literature  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  which  the  monks  not  only  preserved  but  even  occasionally 
looked  into  and  copied.  But  what  could  that  avail  such  readers 
as  they  ?  So  far  from  recognizing  the  merit  of  the  ancient  writ- 
ers, they  were  unable  to  feel  even  the  beauties  of  their  style,  and 
they  trembled  at  the  boldness  of  their  inquiries.  At  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  light  their  eyes  were  blinded.  They  never  turned 
the  leaves  of  a  pagan  author  without  standing  aghast  at  the  risk 
they  were  running,  and  they  were  in  constant  fear  lest  by  imbib- 
ing any  of  his  opinions  they  should  involve  themselves  in  a  deadly 
sin.  The  result  was,  that  they  willingly  laid  aside  the  great  mas- 
terpieces of  antiquity,  and  in  their  place  they  substituted  those 
wretched  compilations  which  corrupted  their  taste,  increased 
their  credulity,  strengthened  their  errors,  and  prolonged  the 
ignorance  of  Europe  by  embodying  each  separate  superstition  in 
a  written  and  accessible  form,  thus  perpetuating  its  influence 
and  enabling  it  to  enfeeble  the  understanding  even  of  a  distant 
posterity. 

twenty-five  thousand  lives  of  saints :  "  a  en  juger  par  approximation,  ils  con- 
tiennent  plus  de  25,000  vies  de  saints  "  (Guizot,  Histoire  de  la  Civilisation  en 
France,  Vol.  II,  p.  32).  It  is  said  (Ledwich's  Antiquities  of  Ireland,  p.  62)  that  of 
Saint  Patrick  alone  there  were  sixty-six  biographers  before  Joceline. 

1  For,  as  Laplace  observes,  in  his  remarks  on  the  sources  of  error  in  connec- 
tion with  the  doctrine  of  probabilities,  "  C'est  a  1'influence  de  1'opinion  de  ceux 
que  la  multitude  juge  les  plus  instruits,  et  a  qui  elle  a  coutume  de  donner  sa  con- 
fiance  sur  les  plus  importants  objets  de  la  vie,  qu'est  due  la  propagation  de  ces 
erreurs  qui,  dans  les  temps  d'ignorance,  ont  couvert  la  face  du  monde"  (Bouillaud, 
Philosophic  Medicale,  p.  218). 

2  M.  Guizot  (Civilisation  en  France,  Vol.  II,  pp.  171,  172)  thinks  that,  on  the 
whole,  the  seventh  was  even  worse  than  the  eighth,  but  it  is  difficult  to  choose 
between  them. 


562  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

It  is  in  this  way  that  the  nature  of  the. literature  possessed  by 
a  people  is  of  very  inferior  importance  in  comparison  with  the 
disposition  of  the  people  by  whom  the  literature  is  to  be  read. 
In  what  are  rightly  termed  the  Dark  Ages  there  was  a  literature 
in  which  valuable  materials  were  to  be  found,  but  there  was  no 
one  who  knew  how  to  use  them.  During  a  considerable  period 
the  Latin  language  was  a  vernacular  dialect,1  and  if  men  had 
chosen  they  might  have  studied  the  great  Latin  authors.  But  to 
do  this  they  must  have  been  in  a  state  of  society  very  different 
from  that  in  which  they  actually  lived.  They,  like  every  other 
people,  measured  merit  by  the  standard  commonly  received  in 
their  own  age,  and  according  to  their  standard  the  dross  was 
better  than  the  gold.  They  therefore  rejected  the  gold  and 
hoarded  up  the  dross.  What  took  place  then  is,  on  a  smaller 
scale,  taking  place  now.  Every  literature  contains  something 
that  is  true  and  much  that  is  false,  and  the  effect  it  produces 
will  chiefly  depend  upon  the  skill  with  which  the  truth  is  dis- 
criminated from  the  falsehood.  New  ideas  and  new  discoveries 
possess  prospectively  an  importance  difficult  to  exaggerate,  but 
until  the  ideas  are  received  and  the  discoveries  adopted,  they 
exercise  no  influence  and  therefore  work  no  good.  No  literature 
can  ever  benefit  a  people  unless  it  finds  them  in  a  state  of  pre- 
liminary preparation.  In  this  respect  the  analogy  with  religious 
opinions  is  complete.  If  the  religion  and  the  literature  of  a  coun- 
try are  unsuited  to  its  wants,  they  will  be  useless,  because  the 
literature  will  be  neglected  and  the  religion  disobeyed.  In  such 
cases  even  the  ablest  books  are  unread  and  the  purest  doctrines 
despised.  The  works  fall  into  oblivion  ;  the  faith  is  corrupted 
by  heresy. 

The  other  opinion  to  which  I  have  referred  is  that  the  civiliza- 
tion of  Europe  is  chiefly  owing  to  the  ability  which  has  been 
displayed  by  the  different  governments,  and  to  the  sagacity  with 
which  the  evils  of  society  have  been  palliated  by  legislative 

1  Some  of  the  results  of  Latin  being  colloquially  employed  by  the  monks  are 
judiciously  stated  in  Herder's  Ideen  zur  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,  Vol.  IV, 
pp.  202,  203.  The  remarks  on  this  custom  by  Dugald  Stewart  refer  to  a  later 
period  (Stewart's  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  no,  in). 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      563 

remedies.  To  any  one  who  has  studied  history  in  its  original 
sources  this  notion  must  appear  so  extravagant  as  to  make  it 
difficult  to  refute  it  with  becoming  gravity.  Indeed,  of  all  the 
social  theories  which  have  ever  been  broached  there  is  none  so 
utterly  untenable  and  so  unsound  in  all  its  parts  as  this.  In  the 
first  place  we  have  the  obvious  consideration  that  the  rulers  of 
a  country  have,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  always  been  the 
inhabitants  of  that  country,  nurtured  by  its  literature,  bred  to  its 
traditions,  and  imbibing  its  prejudices.  Such  men  are  at  best 
only  the  creatures  of  the  age,  never  its  creators.  Their  measures 
are  the  result  of  social  progress,  not  the  cause  of  it.  This  may 
be  proved  not  only  by  speculative  arguments  but  also  by  a  prac- 
tical consideration  which  any  reader  of  history  can  verify  for 
himself.  No  great  political  improvement,  no  great  reform,  either 
legislative  or  executive,  has  ever  been  originated  in  any  country 
by  its  rulers.  The  first  suggesters  of  such  steps  have  invariably 
been  bold  and  able  thinkers,  who  discern  the  abuse,  denounce  it, 
and  point  out  how  it  is  to  be  remedied.  But  long  after  this  is 
done,  even  the  most  enlightened  governments  continue  to  uphold 
the  abuse  and  reject  the  remedy.  At  length,  if  circumstances  are 
favorable,  the  pressure  from  without  becomes  so  strong  that  the 
government  is  obliged  to  give  way,  and,  'the  reform  being  accom- 
plished, the  people  are  expected  to  admire  the  wisdom  of  their 
rulers  by  whom  all  this  has  been  done.  That  this  is  the  course 
of  political  improvement  must  be  well  known  to  whoever  has 
studied  the  law  books  of  different  countries  in  connection  with 
the  previous  progress  of  their  knowledge.  Full  and  decisive  evi- 
dence of  this  will  be  brought  forward  in  the  present  work ;  but  by 
way  of  illustration  I  may  refer  to  the  abolition  of  the  corn  laws, 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  remarkable  facts  in  the  history  of 
England  during  the  nineteenth  century.  The  propriety  and,  indeed, 
the  necessity  of  their  abolition  is  now  admitted  by  every  one  of 
tolerable  information  ;  and  the  question  arises  as  to  how  it  was 
brought  about.  Those  Englishmen  who  are  little  versed  in  the 
history  of  their  country  will  say  that  the  real  cause  was  the 
wisdom  of  Parliament,  while  others,  attempting  to  look  a  little 
further,  will  ascribe  it  to  the  activity  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League 


564  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  the  consequent  pressure  put  upon  government.  But  whoever 
will  minutely  trace  the  different  stages  through  which  this  great 
question  successively  passed  will  find  that  the  government,  the 
legislature,  and  the  league  were  the  unwitting  instruments  of 
a  power  far  greater  than  all  other  powers  put  together.  They 
were  simply  the  exponents  of  that  march  of  public  opinion,  which 
on  this  subject  had  begun  nearly  a  century  before  their  time. 
The  steps  of  this  vast  movement  I  shall  examine  on  another 
occasion ;  at  present  it  is  enough  to  say  that  soon  after  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century  the  absurdity  of  protective  restrictions 
on  trade  was  so  fully  demonstrated  by  the  political  economists 
as  to  be  admitted  by  every  man  who  understood  their  arguments 
and  had  mastered  the  evidence  connected  with  them.  From  this 
moment  the  repeal  of  the  corn  laws  became  a  matter  not  of  party, 
nor  of  expediency,  but  merely  of  knowledge.  Those  who  knew 
the  facts  opposed  the  laws  ;  those  who  were  ignorant  of  the  facts 
favored  the  laws.  It  was  therefore  clear  that  whenever  the  dif- 
fusion of  knowledge  reached  a  certain  point  the  laws  must  fall. 
The  merit  of  the  league  was  to  assist  this  diffusion ;  the  merit 
of  the  Parliament  was  to  yield  to  it.  It  is,  however,  certain  that 
the  members  both  of  league  and  legislature  could  at  best  only 
slightly  hasten  what  the  progress  of  knowledge  rendered  inevi- 
table. If  they  had  lived  a  century  earlier,  they  would  have  been 
altogether  powerless,  because  the  age  would  not  have  been  ripe 
for  their  labors.  They  were 'the  creatures  of  a  movement  which 
began  long  before  any  of  them  were  born,  and  the  utmost  they 
could  do  was  to  put  into  operation  what  others  had  taught,  and 
repeat  in  louder  tones  the  lessons  they  had  learned  from  their 
masters.  For,  it  was  not  pretended,  they  did  not  even  pretend 
themselves,  that  there  was  anything  new  in  the  doctrines  which 
they  preached  from  the  hustings  and  disseminated  in  every  part 
of  the  kingdom.  The  discoveries  had  long  since  been  made  and 
were  gradually  doing  their  work,  encroaching  upon  old  errors, 
and  making  proselytes  in  all  directions.  The  reformers  of  our 
time  swam  with  the  stream ;  they  aided  what  it  would  have  been 
impossible  long  to  resist.  Nor  is  this  to  be  deemed  a  slight  or 
grudging  praise  of  the  services  they  undoubtedly  rendered.  The 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      565 

opposition  they  had  to  encounter  was  still  immense,  and  it  should 
always  be  remembered  as  a  proof  of  the  backwardness  of  political 
knowledge  and  of  the  incompetence  of  political  legislators  that 
although  the  principles  of  free  trade  had  been  established  for 
nearly  a  century  by  a  chain  of  arguments  as  solid  as  those  on 
which  the  truths  of  mathematics  are  based,  they  were  to  the  last 
moment  strenuously  resisted,  and  it  was  only  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  Parliament  was  induced  to  grant  what  the  people 
were  determined  to  have,  and  the  necessity  of  which  had  been 
proved  by  the  ablest  men  during  three  successive  generations. 

I  have  selected  this  instance  as  an  illustration,  because  the 
facts  connected  with  it  are  undisputed,  and  indeed  are  fresh  in 
the  memory  of  us  all.  For  it  was  not  concealed  at  the  time,  and 
posterity  ought  to  know,  that  this  great  measure  which,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Reform  Bill,  is  by  far  the  most  important  ever 
passed  by  a  British  Parliament  was  like  the  Reform  Bill  extorted 
from  the  legislature  by  a  pressure  from  without,  that  it-  was 
conceded  not  cheerfully  but  with  fear,  and  that  it  was  carried  by 
statesmen  who  had  spent  their  lives  in  opposing  what  they  now 
suddenly  advocated.  Such  was  the  history  of  these  events,  and 
such  likewise  has  been  the  history  of  all  those  improvements 
which  are  important  enough  to  rank  as  epochs  in  the  history  of 
modern  legislation. 

Besides  this,  there  is  another  circumstance  worthy  the  attention 
of  those  writers  who  ascribe  a  large  part  of  European  civilization 
to  measures  originated  by  European  governments.  This  is,  that 
every  great  reform  which  has  been  effected  has  consisted  not 
in  doing  something  new  but  in  undoing  something  old.  The 
most  valuable  additions  made  to  legislation  have  been  enactments 
destructive  of  preceding  legislation,  and  the  best  laws  which  have 
been  passed  have  been  those  by  which  some  former  laws  were 
repealed.  In  the  case  just  mentioned,  of  the  corn  laws,  all  that 
was  done  was  to  repeal  the  old  laws  and  leave  trade  to  its  natu- 
ral freedom.  When  this  great  reform  was  accomplished  the  only 
result  was  to  place  things  on  the  same  footing  as  if  legislators 
had  never  interfered  at  all.  Precisely  the  same  remark  is  ap- 
plicable to  another  leading  improvement  in  modern  legislation, 


566  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

namely,  the  decrease  of  religious  persecution.  This  is  unquestion- 
ably an  immense  boon,  though  unfortunately  it  is  still  imperfect, 
even  in  the  most  civilized  countries.  But  it  is  evident  that  the 
concession  merely  consists  in  this,  that  legislators  have  retraced 
their  own  steps  and  undone  their  own  work.  If  we  examine  the 
policy  of  the  most  humane  and  enlightened  governments,  we 
shall  find  this  to  be  the  course  they  have  pursued.  The  whole 
scope  and  tendency  of  modern  -legislation  is  to  restore  things  to 
that  natural  channel  from  which  the  ignorance  of  preceding  legis- 
lation has  driven  them.  This  is  one  of  the  great  works  of  the 
present  age  ;  and  if  legislators  do  it  well,  they  will  deserve  the 
gratitude  of  mankind.  But  though  we  may -thus  be  grateful  to 
individual  lawgivers,  we  owe  no  thanks  to  lawgivers  considered 
as  a  class.  For  since  the  most  valuable  improvements  in  legisla- 
tion are  those  which  subvert  preceding  legislation,  it  is  clear 
that  the  balance  of  good  cannot  be  on  their  side.  It  is  clear  that 
the  progress  of  civilization  cannot  be  due  to  those  who,  on  the 
most  important  subjects,  have  done  so  much  harm  that  their  suc- 
cessors are  considered  benefactors  simply  because  they  reverse 
their  policy,  and  thus  restore  affairs  to  the  state  in  which  they 
would  have  remained  if  politicians  had  allowed  them  to  run  on  in 
the  course  which  the  wants  of  society  required. 

Indeed,  the  extent  to  which  the  governing  classes  have  inter- 
fered, and  the  mischiefs  which  that  interference  has  produced, 
are  so  remarkable  as  to  make  thoughtful  men  wonder  how  civi- 
lization could  advance  in  the  face  of  such  repeated  obstacles.  In 
some  of  the  European  countries  the  obstacles  have  in  fact  proved 
insuperable,  and  the  national  progress  is  thereby  stopped.  Even 
in  England,  where,  from  causes  which  I  shall  presently  relate, 
the  higher  ranks  have  for  some  centuries  been  less  powerful 
than  elsewhere,  there  has  been  inflicted  an  amount  of  evil  which, 
though  much  smaller  than  that  incurred  in  other  countries,  is 
sufficiently  serious  to  form  a  melancholy  chapter  in  the  history 
of  the  human  mind.  To  sum  up  these  evils  would  be  to  write  a 
history  of  English  legislation  ;  for  it  may  be  broadly  stated  that, 
with  the  exception  of  certain  necessary  enactments  respecting 
the  preservation  of  order,  and  the  punishment  of  crime,  nearly 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      567 

everything  which  has  been  done,  has  been  done  amiss.  Thus, 
to  take  only  such  conspicuous  facts  as  do  not  admit  of  contro- 
versy, it  is  certain  that  all  the  most  important  interests  have  been 
grievously  damaged  by  the  attempts  of  legislators  to  aid  them. 
Among  the  accessories  of  modern  civilization  there  is  none  of 
greater  moment  than  trade,  the  spread  of  which  has  probably 
done  more  than  any  other  single  agent  to  increase  the  comfort 
and  happiness  of  man.  Bat  every  European  government  which 
has  legislated  much  respecting  trade  has  acted  as  if  its  main 
object  were  to  suppress  the  trade  and  ruin  the  traders.  Instead 
of  leaving  the  national  industry  to  take  its  own  course,  it  has 
been  troubled  by  an  interminable  series  of  regulations,  all  intended 
for  its  good,  and  all  inflicting  serious  harm.  To  such  a  height 
has  this  been  carried  that  the  commercial  reforms  which  have 
distinguished  England  during  the  last  twenty  years  have  solely 
consisted  in  undoing  this  mischievous  and  intrusive  legislation. 
The  laws  formerly  enacted  on  this  subject,  and  too  many  of 
which  are  still  in  force,  are  marvelous  .to  contemplate.  It  is  no 
exaggeration  to  say  that  the  history  of  the  commercial  legislation 
of  Europe  presents  every  possible  contrivance  for  hampering  the 
energies  of  commerce.  Indeed,  a  very  high  authority,  who  has 
maturely  studied  this  subject,  has  recently  declared  that  if  it 
had  not  been  for  smuggling,  trade  could  not  have  been  con- 
ducted, but  must  have  perished,  in  consequence  of  this  incessant 
interference.1  However  paradoxical  this  assertion  may  appear,  it 
will  be  denied  by  no  one  who  knows  how  feeble  trade  once  was, 
and  how  strong  the  obstacles  were  which  opposed  it.  In  every 
quarter,  and  at  every  moment,  the  hand  of  government  was  felt. 
Duties  on  importation,  and  duties  on  exportation ;  bounties  to 
raise  up  a  losing  trade,  and  taxes  to  pull  down  a  remunerative 
one  ;  this  branch  of  industry  forbidden,  and  that  branch  of  indus- 
try encouraged  ;  one  article  of  commerce  must  not  be  grown 


1  "  C'est  i  la  contrebande  que  le  commerce  doit  de  n'avoir  pas  peri  sous  1'influ- 
ence  du  regime  prohibitif ;  tandis  que  ce  regime  condamnait  les  peuples  a  s'appro- 
visionner  aux  sources  les  plus  eloignees,  la  contrebande  rapprochait  les  distances, 
abaissait  les  prix,  et  neutralisait  1'action  funeste  des  monopoles  "  (Blanqui,  His- 
toire  de  1'ficonomie  Politique  en  Europe,  Paris,  1845,  Vol.  II,  pp.  25,  26). 


568  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

because  it  was  grown  in  the  colonies,  another  article  might  be 
grown  and  bought  but  not  sold  again,  while  a  third  article  might 
be  bought  and  sold  but  not  leave  the  country.  Then,  too,  we 
find  laws  to  regulate  wages ;  laws  to  regulate  prices ;  laws  to 
regulate  profits  ;  laws  to  regulate  the  interest  of  money ;  cus- 
tomhouse arrangements  of  the  most  vexatious  kind,  aided  by  a 
complicated  scheme,  which  was  well  called  the  sliding  scale,— 
a  scheme  of  such  perverse  ingenuity  that  the  duties  constantly 
varied  on  the  same  article,  and  no  man  could  calculate  before- 
hand what  he  would  have  to  pay.  To  this  uncertainty,  itself  the 
bane  of  all  commerce,  there  was  added  a  severity  of  exaction,  felt 
by  every  class  of  consumers  and  producers.  The  tolls  were  so 
onerous  as  to  double  and  often  quadruple  the  cost  of  production. 
A  system  was  organized,  and  strictly  enforced,  of  interference 
with  markets,  interference  with  manufactories,  interference  with 
machinery,  interference  even  with  shops.  The  towns  were 
guarded  by  excisemen,  and  the  ports  swarmed  with  tidewaiters, 
whose  sole  business  was  to  inspect  nearly  every  process  of  domes- 
tic industry,  peer  into  every  package,  and  tax  every  article ; 
while,  that  absurdity  might  be  carried  to  its  extreme  height,  a 
large  part  of  all  this  was  by  way  of  protection  ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  money  was  avowedly  raised,  and  the  inconvenience  suffered, 
not  for  the  use  of  the  government,  but  for  the  benefit  of  the 
people ;  in  other  words,  the  industrious  classes  were  robbed  in 
order  that  industry  might  thrive. 

Such  are  some  of  the  benefits  which  European  trade  owes  to 
the  paternal  care  of  European  legislators.  But  worse  still  remains 
behind.  For  the  economical  evils,  great  as  they  were,  have  been 
far  surpassed  by  the  moral  evils  which  this  system  produced. 
The  first  inevitable  consequence  was  that  in  every  part  of  Europe 
there  arose  numerous  and  powerful  gangs  of  armed  smugglers, 
who  lived  by  disobeying  the  laws  which  their  ignorant  rulers  had 
imposed.  These  men,  desperate  from  the  fear  of  punishment,1 

1  The  19  George  II,  c.  34,  made  "all  forcible  acts  of  smuggling,  carried  on  in 
defiance  of  the  laws,  or  e^>en  in  disguise  to  evade  them,  felony  without  benefit  of 
clergy"  (Blackstone's  Commentaries,  Vol.  IV,  p.  155).  Townsend,  who  traveled 
through  France  in  1786,  says  that  when  any  of  the  numerous  smugglers  were  taten, 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      569 

and  accustomed  to  the  commission  of  every  crime,  contaminated 
the  surrounding  population  ;  introduced  into  peaceful  villages  vices 
formerly  unknown ;  caused  the  ruin  of  entire  families ;  spread, 
wherever  they  came,  drunkenness,  theft,  and  dissoluteness ; 
and  familiarized  their  associates  with  those  coarse  and  swinish 
debaucheries  which  were  the  natural  habits  of  so  vagrant  and 
lawless  a  life.1  The  innumerable  crimes  arising  from  this2  are 
directly  chargeable  upon  the  European  governments  by  whom 
they  were  provoked.  The  offenses  were  caused  by  the  laws ; 
and  now  that  the  laws  are  repealed,  the  offenses  have  disappeared. 
But  it  will  hardly  be  pretended  that  the  interests  of  civilization 
have  been  advanced  by  such  a  policy  as  this.  It  will  hardly  be 
pretended  that  we  owe  much  to  a  system  which,  having  called 
into  existence  a  new  class  of  criminals,  at  length  retraces  its 
steps  and,  though  it  thus  puts  an  end  to  the  crime,  only  destroys 
what  its  own  acts  had  created. 

"some  of  them  are  hanged,  some  are  broken  upon  the  wheel,  and  some  are 
burnt  alive"  (Townsend's  Spain,  Vol.  I,  p.  85,  edit.  1792).  On  the  general  opera- 
tion of  the  French  laws  against  smugglers  in  the  eighteenth  century,  compare 
Tucker's  Life  of  Jefferson,  Vol.  I,  pp.  213,  214,  with  Parliamentary  History,  Vol.  IX, 
p.  1240. 

1  In  a  work  of  considerable  ability,  the  following  account  is  given  of  the  state 
of  things  in  England  and  France  so  late  as  the  year  1 824  :  "  While  this  was  going 
forward  on  the  English  coast,  the  smugglers  on  the  opposite  shore  were  engaged, 
with  much  more  labor,  risk,  and  expense,  in  introducing  English  woolens,  by  a 
vast  system  of  fraud  and  lying,  into  the  towns,  past  a  series  of  customhouses. 
In  both  countries  there  was  an  utter  dissoluteness  of  morals  connected  with  these 
transactions.    Cheating  and  lying  were  essential  to  the  wrhole  system ;  drunken- 
ness accompanied  it ;  contempt  for  all  law  grew  up  under  it ;  honest  industry 
perished  beneath  it ;  and  it  was  crowned  with  murder  "  (Martineau's  History  of 
England  during  Thirty  Years'  Peace,  8vo,  1849,  VoL  I,  p.  341). 

2  For  evidence  of  the  extraordinary  extent  to  which  smuggling  was  formerly 
carried,  and  that  not  secretly,  but  by  powerful  bodies  of  armed  men,  see  Parlia- 
mentary History,  1290,  1345,   Vol.  IX,  pp.  243,  247;  Vol.  X,  pp.  394,  405,  530, 
532;  Vol.  XI,  p.   935.    And  on  the  number  of  persons  engaged  in  it,  compare 
Tomline's  Life  of  Pitt,  Vol.  I,  p.  359 ;  see  also  Sinclair's  History  of  the  Public 
Revenue,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  232;  Otter's  Life  of  Clarke,  Vol.  I,  p.  391.    In  France  the 
evil  was  equally  great.    M.  Lemontey  says,  that  early  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
"  la  contrebande  devenait  une  profession  ouverte,  et  des  compagnies  de  cavalerie 
deserterent  tout  entieres  leurs  etendards  pour  suivre  centre  le  fisc  cette  guerre 
populaire "  (Lemontey,  Essai  sur  1'fitablissement  Monarchique  de   Louis   XIV, 
p.  430).    According  to  Townsend,  there  were  in  1786  "  more  than  1500  smugglers 
in  the  Pyrenees  "  (Townsend's  Journey  through  Spain,  Vol.  I,  p.  84). 


570  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  these  remarks  do  not  affect  the 
real  services  rendered  to  society  by  every  tolerably  organized 
government.  In  all  countries  a  power  of  punishing  crime  and 
of  framing  laws  must  reside  somewhere,  otherwise  the  nation  is 
in  a  state  of  anarchy.  But  the  accusation  which  the  historian 
is  bound  to  bring  against  every  government  which  has  hitherto 
existed  is,  that  it  has  overstepped  its  proper  functions,  and  at 
each  step  has  done  incalculable  harm.  The  love  of  exercising 
power  has  been  found  to  be  so  universal  that  no  class  of  men 
who  have  possessed  authority  have  been  able  to  avoid  abusing  it. 
To  maintain  order,  to  prevent  the  strong  from  oppressing  the 
weak,  and  to  adopt  certain  precautions  respecting  the  public 
health  are  the  only  services  which  any  government  can  render  to 
the  interests  of  civilization.  That  these  are  services  of  immense 
value  no  one  will  deny ;  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  by  them 
civilization  is  advanced,  or  the  progress  of  man  accelerated.  All 
that  is  done  is  to  afford  the  opportunity  of  progress ;  the  progress 
itself  must  depend  upon  other  matters.  And  that  this  is  the 
sound  view  of  legislation  is  moreover  evident  from  the  fact  that 
as  knowledge  is  becoming  more  diffused,  and  as  an  increasing 
experience  is  enabling  each  successive  generation  better  to  under- 
stand the  complicated  relations  of  life,  just  in  the  same  propor- 
tion are  men  insisting  upon  the  repeal  of  those  protective  laws, 
the  enactment  of  which  was  deemed  by  politicians  to  be  the 
greatest  triumph  of  political  foresight. 

Seeing,  therefore,  that  the  efforts  of  government  in  favor  of 
civilization  are,  when  most  successful,  altogether  negative ;  and 
seeing,  too,  that  when  those  efforts  are  more  than  negative  they 
become  injurious, — it  clearly  follows  that  all  speculations  must 
be  erroneous  which  ascribe  the  progress  of  Europe  to  the  wisdom 
of  its  rulers.  This  is  an  inference  which  rests  not  only  on  the 
arguments  already  adduced,  but  on  facts  which  might  be  multi- 
plied from  every  page  of  history.  For,  no  government  having 
recognized  its  proper  limits,  the  result  is  that  every  govern- 
ment has  inflicted  on  its  subjects  great  injuries ;  and  has  done 
this  nearly  always  with  the  best  intentions.  The  effects  of  its 
protective  policy  in  injuring  trade,  and,  what  is  far  worse,  in 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     571 

increasing  crime,  have  just  been  noticed  ;  and  to  these  instances 
innumerable  others  might  be  added.  Thus,  during  many  cen- 
turies, every  government  thought  it  was  its  bounden  duty  to 
encourage  religious  truth,  and  discourage  religious  error.  The 
mischief  this  has  produced  is  incalculable.  Putting  aside  all 
other  considerations,  it  is  enough  to  mention  its  two  leading 
consequences,  which  are  the  increase  of  hypocrisy,  and  the  in- 
crease of  perjury.  The  increase  of  hypocrisy  is  the  inevitable 
result  of  connecting  any  description  of  penalty  with  the  pro- 
fession of  particular  opinions.  Whatever  may  be  the  case  with 
individuals,  it  is  certain  that  the  majority  of  men  find  an  ex- 
treme difficulty  in  long  resisting  constant  temptation.  And 
when  the  temptation  comes  to  them  in  the  shape  of  honor  and 
emolument,  they  are  too  often  ready  to  profess  the  dominant 
opinions,  and  abandon  not  indeed  their  belief  but  the  external 
marks  by  which  that  belief  is  made  public.  Every  man  who 
takes  this  step  is  a  hypocrite  ;  and  every  government  which 
encourages  this  step  to  be  taken  is  an  abetter  of  hypocrisy  and 
a  creator  of  hypocrites.  Well,  therefore,  may  we  say,  that  when 
a  government  holds  out  as  a  bait  that  those  who  profess  certain 
opinions  shall  enjoy  certain  privileges,  it  plays  the  part  of  the 
tempter  of  old,  and,  like  the  Evil  One,  basely  offers  the  good 
things  of  this  world  to  him  who  will  change  his  worship  and 
deny  his  faith.  At  the  same  time,  and  as  a  part  of  this  system, 
the  increase  of  perjury  has  accompanied  the  increase  of  hypoc- 
risy. For  legislators,  plainly  seeing  that  proselytes  thus  obtained 
could  not  be  relied  upon,  have  met  the  danger  by  the  most  extraor- 
dinary precautions ;  and  compelling  men  to  confirm  their  belief 
by  repeated  oaths,  have  thus  sought  to  protect  the  old  creed 
against  the  new  converts.  It  is  this  suspicion  as  to  the  motives 
of  others  which  has  given  rise  to  oaths  of  every  kind  and  in 
every  direction.  In  England,  even  the  boy  at  college  is  forced 
to  swear  about  matters  which  he  cannot  understand,  and  which 
far  riper  minds  are  unable  to  master.  If  he  afterwards  goes 
into  Parliament,  he  must  again  swear  about  his  religion  ;  and  at 
nearly  every  stage  of  political  life  he  must  take  fresh  oaths,  the 
solemnity  of  which  is  often  strangely  contrasted  with  the  trivial 


572  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

functions  to  which  they  are  the  prelude.  A  solemn  adjuration  of 
the  Deity  being  thus  made  at  every  turn,  it  has  happened,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  that  oaths,  enjoined  as  a  matter  of  course, 
have  at  length  degenerated  into  a  matter  of  form.  What  is 
lightly  taken  is  easily  broken.  And  the  best  observers  of  Eng- 
lish society —  observers,  too,  whose  characters  are  very  differ- 
ent, and  who  hold  the  most  opposite  opinions  —  are  all  agreed 
on  this,  that  the  perjury  habitually  practiced  in  England,  and  of 
which  government  is  the  immediate  creator,  is  so  general  that 
it  has  become  a  source  of  national  corruption,  has  diminished  the 
value  of  human  testimony,  and  has  shaken  the  confidence  which 
men  naturally  place  in  the  word  of  their  fellow-creatures.1 

The  open  vices,  and,  what  is  much  more  dangerous,  the  hidden 
corruption,  thus  generated  in  the  midst  of  society  by  the  igno- 
rant interference  of  Christian  rulers,  is  indeed  a  painful  subject ; 
but  it  is  one  which  I  could  not  omit  in  an  analysis  of  the  causes 
of  civilization.  It  would  be  easy  to  push  the  inquiry  still  further, 
and  to  show  how  legislators,  in  every  attempt  they  have  made 
to  protect  some  particular  interests,  and  uphold  some  particular 
principles,  have  not  only  failed  but  have  brought  about  results 
diametrically  opposite  to  those  which  they  proposed.  We  have 
seen  that  their  laws  in  favor  of  industry  have  injured  industry, 
that  their  laws  in  favor  of  religion  have  increased  hypocrisy,  and 
that  their  laws  to  secure  truth  have  encouraged  perjury.  Exactly 
in  the  same  way,  nearly  every  country  has  taken  steps  to  pre- 
vent usury,  and  keep  down  the  interest  of  money ;  and  the  in- 
variable effect  has  been  to  increase  usury,  and  raise  the  interest 

1  Archbishop  Whately  says,  what  hardly  any  thinking  man  will  now  deny,  "  If 
oaths  were  abolished,  —  leaving  the  penalties  for  false  witness  (no  unimportant 
part  of  our  security)  unaltered,  —  I  am  convinced  that,  on  the  whole,  testimony 
would  be  more  trustworthy  than  it  is "  (Whately's  Elements  of  Rhetoric,  8vo, 
1850,  p.  47).  See  also,  on  the  amount  of  perjury  caused  by  English  legislation, 
Jeremy  Bentham's  Works,  edit.  Bowring,  Vol.  II,  p.  210;  Vol.  V,  pp.  191-229, 
454-466;  Vol.  VI,  pp.  314,  315;  Orme's  Life  of  Owen,  p.  195;  Locke's  Works, 
Vol.  IV,  p.  6;  Berkeley's  Works,  Vol.  II,  p.  196;  Whiston's  Memoirs,  pp.  33, 
411-413;  Hamilton's  Discussions  on  Philosophy  and  Literature,  pp.  454,  522,  527, 
528.  Sir  W.  Hamilton  sums  up:  "But  if  the  perjury  of  England  stands  pre- 
eminent in  the  world,  the  perjury  of  the  English  universities,  and  of  Oxford  in 
particular,  stands  preeminent  in  England  "  (p.  528).  Compare  Priestley's  Memoirs, 
Vol.  I,  p.  374;  and  Baker's  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Bernard,  1819,  pp.  188,  189. 


RELIGION,  LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT      573 

of  money.  For  since  no  prohibition,  however  stringent,  can  de- 
stroy the  natural  relation  between  demand  and  supply,  it  has 
followed  that  when  some  men  want  to  borrow,  and  other  men 
want  to  lend,  both  parties  are  sure  to  find  means  of  evading  a 
law  which  interferes  with  their  mutual  rights.1  If  the  two  parties 
were  left  to  adjust  their  own  bargain  undisturbed,  the  usury 
would  depend  on  the  circumstances  of  the  loan,  such  as  the 
amount  of  security,  and  the  chance  of  repayment.  But  this 
natural  arrangement  has  been  complicated  by  the  interference 
of  government.2  A  certain  risk  being  always  incurred  by  those 
who  disobey  the  law,  the  usurer,  very  properly,  refuses  to  lend 
his  money  unless  he  is  also  compensated  for  the  danger  he  is  in 
from  the  penalty  hanging  over  him.  This  compensation  can  only 
be  made  by  the  borrower,  who  is  thus  obliged  to  pay  what  in 
reality  is  a  double  interest :  one  interest  for  the  natural  risk  on 
the  loan,  and  another  interest  for  the  extra  risk  from  the  law. 
Such,  then,  is  the  position  in  which  every  European  legislature 
has  placed  itself.  By  enactments  against  usury,  it  has  increased 
what  it  wished  to  destroy  ;  it  has  passed  laws  which  the  impera- 
tive necessities  of  men  compel  them  to  violate ;  while,  to  wind 
up  the  whole,  the  penalty  for  such  violation  falls  on  the  bor- 
rowers, that  is,  on  the  very  class  in  whose  favor  the  legislators 
interfered.3 

1  "  L'observation  rigoureuse  de  ces  loix  seroit  destructive  de  tout  commerce ; 
aussi  ne  sont-elles  pas  observees  rigoureusement "  (Memoire  sur  les  Prets  d'Argent, 
sec.  xiv,  in  CEuvres  de  Turgot,  Vol.  V,  pp.  278,  279).    Compare  Ricardo's  Works, 
pp.  178,  179,  with  Condorcet,  Vie  de  Turgot,  pp.  53,  54,  228. 

2  Aided  by  the  church.    Ecclesiastical  councils  contain  numerous  regulations 
against  usury;  and  in  1179  Pope  Alexander  ordered  that  usurers  were  not  to  be 
buried:  "  Quia  in  omnibus  fere  locis  crimen  usurarum  invaluit ;  ut  multi  negotiis 
praetermissis  quasi  licite  usuras  exerceant ;  et  qualiterutriusque  testamenti  pagina 
condemnetur,  non    attendunt :    ideo   constituimus,  ut  usurarii  manifest!  nee  ad 
communionem  recipiantur  altaris,  nee  Christianam,  si  in  hoc  peccato  decesserint, 
accipiant  sepulturam,  sed  nee  oblationem  eorum  quisquam  accipiat "  (Rog.  de 
Hoved.  Annal.  in  Rerum  Anglicarum  Scriptores  post  Bedam,  p.  335,  London, 
1596,  folio).    In  Spain  the  Inquisition  took  cognizance  of  usury.    See  Llorente, 
Histoire  de    1'Inquisition,    Vol.    I,  p.    339.    Compare    Ledwich's   Antiquities  of 
Ireland,  p.  133. 

8  The  whole  subject  of  the  usury  laws  has  been  treated  by  Bentham  in  so  com- 
plete and  exhaustive  a  manner  that  I  cannot  do  better  than  refer  the  reader  to 
his  admirable  Letters.  A  part  only  of  the  question  is  discussed,  and  that  very 


574  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

In  the  same  meddling  spirit,  and  with  the  same  mistaken 
notions  of  protection,  the  great  Christian  governments  have  done 
other  things  still  more  injurious.  They  have  made  strenuous  and 
repeated  efforts  to  destroy  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and  prevent 
men  from  expressing  their  sentiments  on  the  most  important 
questions  in  politics  and  religion.  In  nearly  every  country  they, 
with  the  aid  of  the  church,  have  organized  a  vast  system  of  literary 
police,  the  sole  object  of  which  is  to  abrogate  the  undoubted  right 
of  every  citizen  to  lay  his  opinions  before  his  fellow-citizens.  In 
the  very  few  countries  where  they  have  stopped  short  of  these 
extreme  steps,  they  have  had  recourse  to  others  less  violent,  but 
equally  unwarrantable.  For  even  where  they  have  not  openly  for- 
bidden the  free  dissemination  of  knowledge,  they  have  done  all 
that  they  could  to  check  it.  On  all  the  implements  of  knowl- 
edge, and  on  all  the  means  by  which  it  is  diffused,  such  as  paper, 
books,  political  journals,  and  the  like,  they  have  imposed  duties 
so  heavy  that  they  could  hardly  have  done  worse  if  they  had 
been  the  sworn  advocates  of  popular  ignorance.  Indeed,  looking 
at  what  they  have  actually  accomplished,  it  may  be  emphatically 
said  that  they  have  taxed  the  human  mind.  They  have  made 
the  very  thoughts  of  men  pay  toll.  Whoever  wishes  to  communi- 
cate his  ideas  to  others,  and  thus  do  what  he  can  to  increase  the 
stock  of  our  acquirements,  must  first  pour  his  contributions  into 
the  imperial  exchequer.  That  is  the  penalty  inflicted  on  him  for 
instructing  his  fellow-creatures.  That  is  the  blackmail  which 
government  extorts  from  literature,  and  on  receipt  of  which  it 
accords  its  favor,  and  agrees  to  abstain  from  further  demands. 
And  what  causes  all  this  to  be  the  more  insufferable  is  the  use 
which  is  made  of  these  and  similar  exactions,  wrung  from  every 
kind  of  industry,  both  bodily  and  mental.  It  is  truly  a  frightful 
consideration,  that  knowledge  is  to  be  hindered,  and  that  the 
proceeds  of  honest  labor,  of  patient  thought,  and  sometimes  of 
profound  genius  are  to  be  diminished,  in  order  that  a  large  part 
of  their  scanty  earnings  may  go  to  swell  the  pomp  of  an  idle  and 

imperfectly,  in  Key's  Science  Sociale,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  64,  65.  On  the  necessity  of 
usury  to  mitigate  the  effects  of  a  commercial  panic,  see  Mill's  Principles  of  Polit- 
ical Economy,  Vol.  II,  p.  185. 


RELIGION,   LITERATURE,  AND  GOVERNMENT     575 

ignorant  court,  minister  to  the  caprice  of  a  few  powerful  individ- 
uals, and  too  often  supply  them  with  the  means  of  turning  against 
the  people  resources  which  the  people  called  into  existence. 

These  and  the  foregoing  statements  respecting  the  effects 
produced  on  European  society  by  political  legislation  are  not 
doubtful  or  hypothetical  inferences,  but  are  such  as  every  reader 
of  history  may  verify  for  himself.  Indeed,  some  of  them  are  still 
acting  in  England ;  and  in  one  country  or  another  the  whole  of 
them  may  be  seen  in  full  force.  When  put  together,  they  com- 
pose an  aggregate  so  formidable  that  we  may  well  wonder 
how,  in  the  face  of  them,  civilization  has  been  able  to  advance. 
That  under  such  circumstances  it  has  advanced  is  a  decisive 
proof  of  the  extraordinary  energy  of  man,  and  justifies  a  confi- 
dent belief  that,  as  the  pressure  of  legislation  is  diminished,  and 
the  human  mind  less  hampered,  the  progress  will  continue  with 
accelerated  speed.  But  it  is  absurd,  it  would  be  a  mockery  of 
all  sound  reasoning,  to  ascribe  to  legislation  any  share  in  the 
progress,  or  to  expect  any  benefit  from  future  legislators,  except 
that  sort  of  benefit  which  consists  in  undoing  the  work  of  their 
predecessors.  This  is  what  the  present  generation  claims  at  their 
hands ;  and  it  should  be  remembered  that  what  one  generation 
solicits  as  a  boon,  the  next  generation  demands  as  a  right.  And 
when  the  right  is  pertinaciously  refused,  one  of  two  things  has 
always  happened  :  either  the  nation  has  retrograded,  or  else  the 
people  have  risen.  Should  the  government  remain  firm,  this  is 
the  cruel  dilemma  in  which  men  are  placed.  If  they  submit,  they 
injure  their  country  ;  if  they  rebel,  they  may  injure  it  still  more. 
In  the  ancient  monarchies  of  the  East  their  usual  plan  was  to 
yield  ;  in  the  monarchies  of  Europe  it  has  been  to  resist.  Hence 
those  insurrections  and  rebellions  which  occupy  so  large  a  space 
in  modern  history,  and  which  are  but  repetitions  of  the  old  story, 
the  undying  struggle  between  oppressors  and  oppressed.  It 
would,  however,  be  unjust  to  deny  that  in  one  country  the  fatal 
crisis  has  now  for  several  generations  been  successfully  averted. 
In  one  European  country,  and  in  one  alone,  the  people  have  been 
so  strong,  and  the  government  so  weak,  that  the  history  of  legis- 
lation, taken  as  a  whole,  is,  notwithstanding  a  few  aberrations, 


576  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  history  of  slow  but  constant  concession :  reforms  which 
would  have  been  refused  to  argument  have  been  yielded  from 
fear ;  while,  from  the  steady  increase  of  democratic  opinions, 
protection  after  protection  and  privilege  after  privilege  have 
even  in  our  own  time  been  torn  away,  until  the  old  institutions, 
though  they  retain  their  former  name,  have  lost  their  former 
vigor,  and  there  no  longer  remains  a  doubt  as  to  what  their  fate 
must  ultimately  be.  Nor  need  we  add  that  in  this  same  country, 
where,  more  than  in  any  other  of  Europe,  legislators  are  the 
exponents  and  the  servants  of  the  popular  will,  the  progress  has, 
on  this  account,  been  more  undeviating  than  elsewhere  ;  there 
has  been  neither  anarchy  nor  revolution  ;  and  the  world  has  been 
made  familiar  with  the  great  truth,  that  one  main  condition  of 
the  prosperity  of  a  people  is  that  its  rulers  shall  have  very  little 
power,  that  they  shall  exercise  that  power  very  sparingly,  and 
that  they  shall  by  no  means  presume  to  raise  themselves  into 
supreme  judges  of  the  national  interests,  or  deem  themselves 
authorized  to  defeat  the  wishes  of  those  for  whose  benefit  alone 
they  occupy  the  post  intrusted  to  them. 


XXIJI 
THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW   OF   MORALS1 

Not  for  the  human  race  only  but  for  every  race  there  are 
laws  of  right  living.  Given  its  environment  and  its  structure, 
and  there  is  for  each  kind  of  creature  a  set  of  actions  adapted 
in  their  kinds,  amounts,  and  combinations  to  secure  the  high- 
est conservation  its  nature  permits.  The  animal,  like  the  man, 
has  needs  for  food,  warmth,  activity,  rest,  and  so  forth,  which 
must  be  fulfilled  in  certain  relative  degrees  to  make  its  life 
whole.  Maintenance  of  its  race  implies  satisfaction  of  special 
desires,  sexual  and  philoprogenitive,  in  due  proportions.  Hence 
there  is  a  supposable  formula  for  the  activities  of  each  species, 
which,  could  it  be  drawn  out,  would  constitute  a  system  of 
morality  for  that  species.  But  such  a  system  of  morality  would 
have  little  or  no  reference  to  the  welfare  of  others  than  self  and 
offspring.  Indifferent  to  individuals  of  its  own  kind,  as  an 
inferior  creature  is,  and  habitually  hostile  to  individuals  of  other 
kinds,  the  formula  for  its  life  could  take  no  cognizance  of  the 
lives  of  those  with  which  it  came  in  contact ;  or  rather,  such 
formula  would  imply  that  maintenance  of  its  life  was  at  variance 
with  maintenance  of  their  lives. 

But  on  ascending  from  beings  of  lower  kinds  to  the  highest 
kind  of  being,  man ;  or,  more  strictly,  on  ascending  from  man 
in  his  presocial  stage  to  man  in  his  social  stage,  the  formula  has 
to  include  an  additional  factor.  Though  not  peculiar  to  human 
life  under  its  developed  form,  the  presence  of  this  factor  is  still, 
in  the  highest  degree,  characteristic  of  it.  Though  there  are 
inferior  species  displaying  considerable  degrees  of  sociality,  and 
though  the  formulas  for  their  complete  lives  would  have  to  take 
account  of  the  relations  arising  from  union,  yet  our  own  species 

1  From  the  Data  of  Ethics,  by  Herbert  Spencer,  chap,  viii,  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
New  York. 

577 


578  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

is,  on  the  whole,  to  be  distinguished  as  having  a  formula  for 
complete  life  which  specially  recognizes  the  relations  of  each 
individual  to  others,  in  presence  of  whom,  and  in  cooperation 
with  whom,  he  has  to  live. 

This  additional  factor  in  the  problem  of  complete  living  is, 
indeed,  so  important  that  the  necessitated  modifications  of  con- 
duct have  come  to  form  a  chief  part  of  the  code  of  conduct. 
Because  the  inherited  desires  which  directly  refer  to  the  main- 
tenance of  individual  life  are  fairly  adjusted  to  the  requirements, 
there  has  been  no  need  to  insist  on  that  conformity  to  them 
which  furthers  self-conservation.  Conversely,  because  these  de- 
sires prompt  activities  that  often  conflict  with  the  activities  of 
others,  and  because  the  sentiments  responding  to  others'  claims 
are  relatively  weak,  moral  codes  emphasize  those  restraints  on 
conduct  which  the  presence  of  fellow-men  entails. 

From  the  sociological  point  of  view,  then,  ethics  becomes  noth- 
ing else  than  a  definite  account  of  the  forms  of  conduct  that  are 
fitted  to  the  associated  state,  in  such  wise  that  the  lives  of  each 
and  all  may  be  the  greatest  possible,  alike  in  length  and  breadth. 

But  here  we  are  met  by  a  fact  which  forbids  us  thus  to  put 
in  the  foreground  the  welfares  of  citizens,  individually  consid- 
ered, and  requires  us  to  put  in  the  foreground  the  welfare  of 
the  society  as  a  whole.  The  life  of  the  social  organism  must, 
as  an  end,  rank  above  the  lives  of  its  units.  These  two  ends 
are  not  harmonious  at  the  outset ;  and  though  the  tendency  is 
toward  harmonization  of  them,  they  are  still  partially  conflicting. 

As  fast  as  the  social  state  establishes  itself,  the  preservation 
of  the  society  becomes  a  means  of  preserving  its  units.  Living 
together  arose  because,  on  the  average,  it  proved  more  advan- 
tageous to  each  than  living  apart ;  and  this  implies  that  main- 
tenance of  combination  is  maintenance  of  the  conditions  to 
more  satisfactory  living  than  the  combined  persons  would  other- 
wise have.  Hence,  social  self-preservation  becomes  a  proxi- 
mate aim,  taking  precedence  of  the  ultimate  aim,  —  individual 
self-preservation. 

This  subordination  of  personal  to  social  welfare  is,  however, 
contingent :  it  depends  on  the  presence  of  antagonistic  societies. 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS  S79 

So  long  as  the  existence  of  a  community  is  endangered  by  the 
actions  of  communities  around,  it  must  remain  true  that  the 
interests  of  individuals  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  interests  of 
the  community,  as  far  as  is  needful  for  the  community's  salva- 
tion. But  if  this  is  manifest,  it  is,  by  implication,  manifest  that 
when  social  antagonisms  cease  this  need  for  sacrifice  of  private 
claims  to  public  claims  ceases  also ;  or  rather,  there  cease  to  be 
any  public  claims  at  variance  with  private  claims.  All  along, 
furtherance  of  individual  lives  has  been  the  ultimate  end ;  and 
if  this  ultimate  end  has  been  postponed  to  the  proximate  end  of 
preserving  the  community's  life,  it  has  been  so  only  because 
this  proximate  end  was  instrumental  to  the  ultimate  end.  When 
the  aggregate  is  no  longer  in  danger  the  final  object  of  pursuit, 
the  welfare  of  the  units,  no  longer  needing  to  be  postponed, 
becomes  the  immediate  object  of  pursuit. 

Consequently  unlike  sets  of  conclusions  respecting  human 
conduct  emerge,  according  as  we  are  concerned  with  a  state  of 
habitual  or  occasional  war,  or  are  concerned  with  a  state  of  per- 
manent and  general  peace.  Let  us  glance  at  these  alternative 
states  and  the  alternative  implications. 

At  present  the  individual  man  has  to  carry  on  his  life  with 
due  regard  to  the  lives  of  others  belonging  to  the  same  society; 
while  he  is  sometimes  called  on  to  be  regardless  of  the  lives  of 
those  belonging  to  other  societies.  The  same  mental  consti- 
tution having  to  fulfill  both  these  requirements  is  necessarily 
incongruous  ;  and  the  correlative  conduct,  adjusted  first  to  the 
one  need  and  then  to  the  other,  cannot  be  brought  within  any 
consistent  ethical  system. 

Hate  and  destroy  your  fellow-man,  is  now  the  command  ;  and 
then  the  command  is,  Love  and  aid  your  fellow-man.  Use  every 
means  to  deceive,  says  the  one  code  of  conduct ;  while  the  other 
code  says,  Be  truthful  in  word  and  deed.  Seize  what  property 
you  can  and  burn  all  you  cannot  take  away,  are  injunctions 
which  the  'religion  of  enmity  countenances  ;  while  by  the  religion 
of  amity,  theft  and  arson  are  condemned  as  crimes.  And  as 
conduct  has  to  be  made  up  of  parts  thus  at  variance  with  one 
another,  the  theory  of  conduct  remains  confused. 


580  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

There  coexists  a  kindred  irreconcilability  between  the  senti- 
ments answering  to  the  forms  of  cooperation  required  for  mili- 
tancy and  industrialism  respectively.  While  social  antagonisms 
are  habitual,  and  while,  for  efficient  action  against  other  societies, 
there  needs  great  subordination  to  men  who  command,  the  virtue 
of  loyalty  and  the  duty  of  implicit  obedience  have  to  be  insisted 
on ;  disregard  of  the  ruler's  will  is  punished  with  death.  But 
when  war  ceases  to  be  chronic,  and  growing  industrialism  habit- 
uates men  to  maintaining  their  own  claims  while  respecting  the 
claims  of  others,  loyalty  becomes  less  profound,  the  authority 
of  the  ruler  is  questioned  or  denied  in  respect  of  various  private 
actions  and  beliefs.  State  dictation  is  in  many  directions  suc- 
cessfully defied,  and  the  political  independence  of  the  citizen 
comes  to  be  regarded  as  a  claim  which  it  is  virtuous  to  maintain 
and  vicious  to  yield  up.  Necessarily  during  the  transition  these 
opposite  sentiments  are  incongruously  mingled. 

So  is  it,  too,  with  domestic  institutions  under  the  two  regimes. 
While  the  first  is  dominant,  ownership  of  a  slave  is  honorable, 
and  in  the  slave  submission  is  praiseworthy ;  but  as  the  last 
grows  dominant,  slave  owning  becomes  a  crime  and  servile 
obedience  excites  contempt.  Nor  is  it  otherwise  in  the  family. 
The  subjection  of  women  to  men,  complete  while  war  is  habit- 
ual but  qualified  as  fast  as  peaceful  occupations  replace  it,  comes 
eventually  to  be  thought  wrong,  and  equality  before  the  law 
is  asserted.  At  the  same  time  the  opinion  concerning  paternal 
power  changes.  The  once  unquestioned  right  of  the  father  to 
take  his  children's  lives  is  denied,  and  the  duty  of  absolute  sub- 
mission to  him,  long  insisted  on,  is  changed  into  the  duty  of 
obedience  within  reasonable  limits. 

Were  the  ratio  between  the  life  of  antagonism  with  alien 
societies  and  the  life  of  peaceful  cooperation  within  each  soci- 
ety a  constant  ratio,  some  permanent  compromise  between  the 
conflicting  rules  of  conduct  appropriate  to  the  two  lives  might 
be  reached.  But  since  this  ratio  is  a  variable  one,  the  compro- 
mise can  never  be  more  than  temporary.  Ever  the  tendency  is 
toward  congruity  between  beliefs  and  requirements.  Either  the 
social  arrangements  are  gradually  changed  until  they  come  into 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS  581 

harmony  with  prevailing  ideas  and  sentiments,  or,  if  surround- 
ing conditions  prevent  change  in  the  social  arrangements,  the 
necessitated  habits  of  life  modify  the  prevailing  ideas  and  senti- 
ments to  the  requisite  extent.  Hence,  for  each  kind  and  degree 
of  social  evolution  determined  by  external  conflict  and  internal 
friendship,  there  is  an  appropriate  compromise  between  the  moral 
code  of  enmity  and  the  moral  code  of  amity :  not,  indeed,  a 
definable,  consistent  compromise,  but  a  compromise  fairly  well 
understood. 

This  compromise,  vague,  ambiguous,  illogical,  though  it  may 
be,  is  nevertheless  for  the  time  being  authoritative.  For  if, 
as  above  shown,  the  welfare  of  the  society  must  take  precedence 
of  the  welfares  of  its  component  individuals,  during  those  stages 
in  which  the  individuals  have  to  preserve  themselves  by  pre- 
serving their  society,  then  such  temporary  compromise  between 
the  two  codes  of  conduct  as  duly  regards  external  defense, 
while  favoring  internal  cooperation  to  the  greatest  extent  prac- 
ticable, subserves  the  maintenance  of  life  in  the  highest  degree, 
and  thus  gains  the  ultimate  sanction.  So  that  the  perplexed 
and  inconsistent  moralities  of  which  each  society  and  each  age 
shows  us  a  more  or  less  different  one  are  severally  justified  as 
being  approximately  the  best  under  the  circumstances. 

But  such  moralities  are,  by  their  definitions,  shown  to  belong 
to  incomplete  conduct ;  not  to  conduct  that  is  fully  evolved. 
We  saw  that  the  adjustments  of  acts  to  ends  which,  while  con- 
stituting the  external  manifestations  of  life,  conduce  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  life,  have  been  rising  to  a  certain  ideal  form  now 
approached  by  the  civilized  man.  But  this  form  is  not  reached 
so  long  as  there  continue  aggressions  of  one  society  upon  an- 
other. Whether  the  hindrances  to  complete  living  result  from 
the  trespasses  of  fellow-citizens,  or  from  the  trespasses  of  aliens, 
matters  not ;  if  they  occur  there  does  not  yet  exist  the  state 
defined.  The  limit  to  the  evolution  of  conduct  is  arrived  at 
by  members  of  each  society  only  when,  being  arrived  at  by 
members  of  other  societies  also,  the  causes  of  international 
antagonism  end  simultaneously  with  the  causes  of  antagonism 
between  individuals. 


582  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

And  now  having  from  the  sociological  point  of  view  recog- 
nized the  need  for,  and  authority  of,  these  changing  systems 
of  ethics,  proper  to  changing  ratios  between  warlike  activities 
and  peaceful  activities,  we  have,  from  the  same  point  of  view, 
to  consider  the  system  of  ethics  proper  to  the  state  in  which 
peaceful  activities  are  undisturbed. 

If,  excluding  all  thought  of  danger  or  hindrances  from  causes 
external  to  a  society,  we  set  ourselves  to  specify  those  conditions 
under  which  the  life  of  each  person,  and  therefore  of  the  aggre- 
gate, may  be  the  greatest  possible,  we  come  upon  certain  simple 
ones  which,  as  here  stated,  assume  the  form  of  truisms. 

For,  as  we  have  seen,  the  definition  of  that  highest  life  accom- 
panying completely  evolved  conduct  itself  excludes  all  acts  of 
aggression,  —  not  only  murder,  assault,  robbery,  and  the  major 
offenses  generally,  but  minor  offenses,  such  as  libel,  injury  to 
property,  and  so  forth.  While  directly  deducting  from  individ- 
ual life,  these  indirectly  cause  perturbations  of  social  life.  Tres- 
passes against  others  rouse  antagonisms  in  them ;  and  if  these 
are  numerous  the  group  loses  coherence.  Hence,  whether  the 
integrity  of  the  group  itself  is  considered  as  the  end,  or  whether 
the  end  considered  is  the  benefit  ultimately  secured  to  its  units 
by  maintaining  its  integrity,  or  whether  the  immediate  benefit 
of  its  units  taken  separately  is  considered  the  end,  the  implica- 
tion is  the  same  :  such  acts  are  at  variance  with  achievement  of 
the  end.  That  these  inferences  are  self-evident  and  trite  (as 
indeed  the  first  inferences  drawn  from  the  data  of  every  science 
that  reaches  the  deductive  stage  naturally  are)  must  not  make 
us  pass  lightly  over  the  all-important  fact  that,  from  the  socio- 
logical point  of  view,  the  leading  moral  laws  are  seen  to  fol- 
low as  corollaries  from  the  definition  of  complete  life  carried  on 
under  social  conditions. 

Respect  for  these  primary  moral  laws  is  not  enough,  however. 
Associated  men  pursuing  their  several  lives  without  injuring 
one  another,  but  without  helping  one  another,  reap  no  advan- 
tages from  association  beyond  those  of  companionship.  If,  while 
there  is  no  cooperation  for  defensive  purposes  (which  is  here 
excluded  by  the  hypothesis)  there  is  also  no  cooperation  for 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS  583 

satisfying  wants,  the  social  state  loses  its  raison  d'etre  —  almost, 
if  not  entirely.  There  are,  indeed,  people  who  live  in  a  con- 
dition little  removed  from  this,  as  the  Eskimo.  But  though 
these,  exhibiting  none  of  the  cooperation  necessitated  by  war, 
which  is  unknown  to  them,  lead  lives  such  that  each  family 
is  substantially  independent  of  others,  occasional  cooperation 
occurs.  And,  indeed,  that  families  should  live  in  company  with- 
out ever  yielding  mutual  aid  is  scarcely  conceivable. 

Nevertheless,  whether  actually  existing  or  only  approached, 
we  must  here  recognize  as  hypothetically  possible  a  state  in 
which  these  primary  moral  laws  are  conformed  to,  for  the 
purpose  of  observing,  in  their  uncomplicated  forms,  what  are 
the  negative  conditions  to  harmonious  social  life.  Whether  the 
members  of  a  social  group  do  or  do  not  cooperate,  certain 
limitations  to  their  individual  activities  are  necessitated  by 
their  association ;  and  after  recognizing  these  as  arising  in  the 
absence  of  cooperation,  we  shall  be  the  better  prepared  to 
understand  how  conformity  to  them  is  effected  when  coopera- 
tion begins. 

For  whether  men  live  together  in  quite  independent  ways, 
careful  only  to  avoid  aggressing;  or  whether  advancing  from 
passive  association  to  active  association  they  cooperate,  —  their 
conduct  must  be  such  that  the  achievement  of  ends  by  each 
shall  at  least  not  be  hindered.  And  it  becomes  obvious  that 
when  they  cooperate  there  must  not  only  be  no  resulting  hin- 
.drance  but  there  must  be  facilitation,  since  in  the  absence  of 
facilitation  there  can  be  no  motive  to  cooperate.  What  shape, 
then,  must  the  mutual  restraints  take  when  cooperation  begins  ? 
Or  rather,  what,  in  addition  to  the  primary  mutual  restraints 
already  specified,  are  those  secondary  mutual  restraints  required 
to  make  cooperation  possible  ? 

One  who,  living  in  an  isolated  way,  expends  effort  in  pursuit 
of  an  end  gets  compensation  for  the  effort  by  securing  the  end, 
and  so  achieves  satisfaction.  If  he  expends  the  effort  without 
achieving  the  end,  there  results  dissatisfaction.  The  satisfaction 
and  the  dissatisfaction  are  measures  of  success  and  failure  in 
life-sustaining  acts,  since  that  which  is  achieved  by  effort  is 


584  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

something  which  directly  or  indirectly  furthers  life,  and  so  pays 
for  the  cost  of  the  effort ;  while  if  the  effort  fails  there  is  noth- 
ing to  pay  for  the  cost  of  it,  and  so  much  life  is  wasted.  What 
must  result  from  this  when  men's  efforts  are  joined  ?  The  reply 
will  be  made  clearer  if  we  take  the  successive  forms  of  coopera- 
tion in  the  order  of  ascending  complexity.  We  may  distinguish 
as  homogeneous  cooperation  (i)  that  in  which  like  efforts  are 
joined  for  like  ends  that  are  simultaneously  enjoyed.  As  coop- 
eration that  is  not  completely  homogeneous  we  may  distinguish 
(2)  that  in  which  like  efforts  are  joined  for  like  ends  that  are 
not  simultaneously  enjoyed.  A  cooperation  of  which  the  hetero- 
geneity is  more  distinct  is  (3)  that  in  which  unlike  efforts  are 
joined  for  like  ends.  And  lastly  comes  the  decidedly  heteroge- 
neous cooperation,  (4)  that  in  which  unlike  efforts  are  joined  for 
unlike  ends. 

The  simplest  and  earliest  of  these  in  which  men's  powers, 
similar  in  kind  and  degree,  are  united  in  pursuit  of  a  benefit 
which,  when  obtained,  they  all  participate  in,  is  most  familiarly 
exemplified  in  the  catching  of  game  by  primitive  men,  —  this 
simplest  and  earliest  form  of  industrial  cooperation  being  also 
that  which  is  least  differentiated  from  militant  cooperation ;  for 
the  cooperators  are  the  same,  and  the  processes,  both  destruc- 
tive of  life,  are  carried  on  in  analogous  ways.  The  condition 
under  which  such  cooperation  may  be  successfully  carried  on  is 
that  the  cooperators  shall  share  alike  in  the  produce.  Each  thus 
being  enabled  to  repay  himself  in  food  for  the  expended  effort, 
and  being  further  enabled  to  achieve  other  such  desired  ends  as 
maintenance  of  family,  obtains  satisfaction ;  there  is  no  aggres- 
sion of  one  on  another,  and  the  cooperation  is  harmonious.  Of 
course  the  divided  produce  can  be  but  roughly  proportioned  to 
the  several  efforts  joined  in  obtaining  it,  but  there  is  actually 
among  savages,  as  we  see  that  for  harmonious  cooperation  there 
must  be,  a  recognition  of  the  principle  that  efforts  when  com- 
bined shall  severally  bring  equivalent  benefits,  as  they  would  do 
if  they  were  separate.  Moreover,  beyond  the  taking  equal  shares 
in  return  for  labors  that  are  approximately  equal,  there  is  gen- 
erally an  attempt  at  proportioning  benefit  to  achievement,  by 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS  585 

assigning  something  extra,  in  the  shape  of  the  best  part  or  the 
trophy,  to  the  actual  slayer  of  the  game.  And  obviously,  if  there 
is  a  wide  departure  from  this  system  of  sharing  benefits  when 
there  has  been  a  sharing  of  efforts,  the  cooperation  will  cease. 
Individual  hunters  will  prefer  to  do  the  best  they  can  for  them- 
selves separately. 

Passing  from  this  simplest  case  of  cooperation  to  a  case  not 
quite  so  simple,  —  a  case  in  which  the  homogeneity  is  incom- 
plete, —  let  us  ask  how  a  member  of  the  group  may  be  led  with- 
out dissatisfaction  to  expend  effort  in  achieving  a  benefit  which, 
when  achieved,  is  enjoyed  exclusively  by  another  ?  Clearly  he 
may  do  this  on  condition  that  the  other  shall  afterward  expend 
a  like  effort,  the  beneficial  result  of  which  shall  be  similarly  ren- 
dered up  by  him  in  return.  This  exchange  of  equivalents  of  effort 
is  the  form  which  social  cooperation  takes  while  yet  there  is 
little  or  no  division  of  labor,  save  that  between  the  sexes.  For 
example,  the  Bodo  and  Dhimals  "  mutually  assist  each  other  for 
the  nonce,  as  well  in  constructing  their  houses  as  in  clearing 
their  plots  for  cultivation."  And  this  principle,  —  I  will  help 
you  if  you  will  help  me,  —  common  in  simple  communities 
where  the  occupations  are  alike  in  kind,  and  occasionally  acted 
upon  in  more  advanced  communities,  is  one  under  which  the 
relation  between  effort  and  benefit,  no  longer  directly  maintained, 
is  maintained  indirectly.  For  whereas  when  men's  activities  are 
carried  on  separately,  or  are  joined  in  the  way  exemplified  above, 
effort  is  immediately  paid  for  by  benefit,  in  this  form  of  cooper- 
ation the  benefit  achieved  by  effort  is  exchanged  for  a  like 
benefit  to  be  afterward  received  when  asked  for.  And  in  this 
case  as  in  the  preceding  case,  cooperation  can  be  maintained 
only  by  fulfillment  of  the  tacit  agreements.  For  if  they  are 
habitually  not  fulfilled,  there  will  commonly  be  refusal  to  give 
aid  when  asked  ;  and  each  man  will  be  left  to  do  the  best  he 
can  by  himself.  All  those  advantages  to  be  gained  by  union  of 
efforts  in  doing  things  that  are  beyond  the  powers  of  the  single 
individual  will  be  unachievable.  At  the  outset,  then,  fulfillment 
of  contracts  that  are  implied,  if  not  expressed,  becomes  a  condi- 
tion to  social  cooperation,  and  therefore  to  social  development. 


586  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

From  these  simple  forms  of  cooperation  in  which  the  labors 
men  carry  on  are  of  like  kinds,  let  us  turn  to  the  more  complex 
forms  in  which  they  carry  on  labors  of  unlike  kinds.  Where 
men  mutually  aid  in  building  huts  or  felling  trees,  the  number 
of  days'  work  now  given  by  one  to  another  is  readily  balanced 
by  an  equal  number  of  days'  work  afterward  given  by  the  other 
to  him.  And  no  estimation  of  the  relative  values  of  the  labors 
being  required,  a  definite  understanding  is  little  needed.  But 
when  division  of  labor  arises,  —  when  there  come  transactions 
between  one  who  makes  weapons  and  another  who  dresses  skins 
for  clothing,  or  between  a  grower  of  roots  and  a  catcher  of  fish, 
—  neither  the  relative  amounts  nor  the  relative  qualities  of  their 
labors  -admit  of  easy  measure ;  and  with  the  multiplication  of 
businesses,  implying  numerous  kinds  of  skill  and  power,  there 
ceases  to  be  anything  like  manifest  equivalence  between  either 
the  bodily  and  mental  efforts  set  against  one  another,  or  between 
their  products.  Hence  the  arrangement  cannot  now  be  taken  for 
granted,  as  while  the  things  exchanged  are  like  in  kind  :  it  has  to 
be  stated.  If  A  allows  B  to  appropriate  a  product  of  his  special 
skill,  on  condition  that  he  is  allowed  to  appropriate  a  different 
product  of  B's  special  skill,  it  results  that  as  equivalence  of  the 
two  products  cannot  be  determined  by  direct  comparison  of 
their  quantities  and  qualities,  there  must  be  a  distinct  under- 
standing as  to  how  much  of  the  one  may  be  taken  in  consideration 
of  so  much  of  the  other. 

Only  under  voluntary  agreement,  then,  no  longer  tacit  and 
vague,  but  overt  and  definite,  can  cooperation  be  harmoniously 
carried  on  when  division  of  labor  becomes  established.  And  as 
in  the  simplest  cooperation,  where  like  efforts  are  joined  to  secure 
a  common  good,  the  dissatisfaction  caused  in  those  who,  having 
expended  their  labors,  do  not  get  their  share  of  the  good  prompts 
them  to  cease  cooperating ;  as  in  the  more  advanced  coopera- 
tion, achieved  by  exchanging  equal  labors  of  like  kind  expended 
at  different  times,  aversion  to  cooperate  is  generated  if  the 
expected  equivalent  of  labor  is  not  rendered,  so  in  this  developed 
cooperation,  the  failure  of  either  to  surrender  to  the  other  that 
which  was  avowedly  recognized  as  of  like  value  with  the  labor 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS  587 

or  product  given  tends  to  prevent  cooperation  by  exciting  dis- 
content with  its  results.  And  evidently,  while  antagonisms  thus 
caused  impede  the  lives  of  the  units,  the  life  of  the  aggregate 
is  endangered  by  diminished  cohesion. 

Beyond  these  comparatively  direct  mischiefs,  special  and  gen- 
eral, there  have  to  be  noted  indirect  mischiefs.  As  already 
implied  by  the  reasoning  in  the  last  paragraph,  not  only  social 
integration  but  also  social  differentiation  is  hindered  by  breach 
of  contract. 

In  Part  II  of  the  Principles  of  Sociology,  it  was  shown  that 
the  fundamental  principles  of  organization  are  the  same  for  an 
individual  organism  and  for  a  social  organism,  because  both 
consist  of  mutually  dependent  parts.  In  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other,  the  assumption  of  unlike  activities  by  the  component  mem- 
bers is  possible  only  on  condition  that  they  severally  benefit 
in  due  degrees  by  one  another's  activities.  That  we  may  the 
better  see  what  are  the  implications  in  respect  of  social  struc- 
tures, let  us  first  note  the  implications  in  respect  of  individual 
structures. 

The  welfare  of  a  living  body  implies  an  approximate  equilib- 
rium between  waste  and  repair.  If  the  activities  involve  an 
expenditure  not  made  good  by  nutrition,  dwindling  follows.  If 
the  tissues  are  enabled  to  take  up  from  the  blood  enriched  by 
food  fit  substances  enough  to  replace  those  used  up  in  efforts 
made,  the  weight  may  be  maintained.  And  if  the  gain  exceeds 
the  loss,  growth  results. 

That  which  is  true  of  the  whole  in  its  relations  to  the  exter- 
nal world  is  no  less  true  of  the  parts  in  their  relations  to  one 
another.  Each  organ,  like  the  entire  organism,  is  wasted  by 
performing  its  function,  and  has  to  restore  itself  from  the 
materials  brought  to  it.  If  the  quantity  of  materials  furnished 
by  the  joint  agency  of  the  other  organs  is  deficient,  the  partic- 
ular organ  dwindles.  If  they  are  sufficient,  it  can  maintain  its 
integrity.  If  they  are  in  excess,  it  is  enabled  to  increase.  To 
say  that  this  arrangement  constitutes  the  physiological  contract 
is  to  use  a  metaphor  which,  though  not  true  in  aspect,  is  true  in 
essence.  For  the  relations  of  structures  are  actually  such  that, 


588  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

by  the  help  of  a  central  regulative  system,  each  organ  is  sup- 
plied with  blood  in  proportion  to  the  work  it  does.  As  was 
pointed  out  (Principles  of  Sociology,  sec.  254),  well-developed  ani- 
mals are  so  constituted  that  each  muscle  or  viscus,  when  called 
into  action,  sends  to  the  vasomotor  centers  through  certain 
nerve  fibers  an  impulse  caused  by  its  action;  whereupon, 
through  other  nerve  fibers,  there  comes  an  impulse  causing  dila- 
tation of  its  blood  vessels.  That  is  to  say,  all  other  parts  of  the 
organism,  when  they  jointly  require  it  to  labor,  forthwith  begin 
to  pay  it  in  blood.  During  the  ordinary  state  of  physiological 
equilibrium,  the  loss  and  the  gain  balance,  and  the  organ  does 
not  sensibly  change.  If  the  amount  of  its  function  is  increased 
within  such  moderate  limits  that  the  local  blood  vessels  can 
bring  adequately  increased  supplies,  the  organ  grows ;  beyond 
replacing  its  losses  by  its  gains,  it  makes  a  profit  on  its  extra 
transactions,  so  being  enabled  by  extra  structures  to  meet  extra 
demands.  But  if  the  demands  made  on  it  become  so  great  that 
the  supply  of  materials  cannot  keep  pace  with  the  expenditure, 
either  because  the  local  blood  vessels  are  not  large  enough,  or 
for  any  other  reason,  then  the  organ  begins  to  decrease  from 
excess  of  waste  over  repair :  there  sets  in  what  is  known  as 
atrophy.  Now  since  each  of  the  organs  has  thus  to  be  paid  in 
nutriment  for  its  services  by  the  rest,  it  follows  that  the  due 
balancing  of  their  respective  claims  and  payments  is  requisite, 
directly  for  the  welfare  of  each  organ,  and  indirectly  for  the 
welfare  of  the  organism.  For  in  a  whole  formed  of  mutually 
dependent  parts,  anything  which  prevents  due  performance  of 
its  duty  by  one  part  reacts  injuriously  on  all  the  parts. 

With  change  of  terms  these  statements  and  inferences  hold 
of  a  society.  That  social  division  of  labor  which  parallels  in  so 
many  other  respects  the  physiological  division  of  labor  parallels 
it  in  this  respect  also.  As  was  shown  at  large  in  the  Principles 
of  Sociology,  Part  II,  each  order  of  functionaries  and  each  group 
of  producers,  severally  performing  some  action  or  making  some 
article  not  for  direct  satisfaction  of  their  own  needs  but  for  satis- 
faction of  the  needs  of  fellow-citizens  in  general,  othenvise  occu- 
pied, can  continue  to  do  this  only  so  long  as  the  expenditures 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS  589 

of  effort  and  returns  of  profit  are  approximately  equivalent. 
Social  organs,  like  individual  organs,  remain  stationary  if  there 
come  to  them  normal  proportions  of  the  commodities  produced 
by  the  society  as  a  whole.  If  because  the  demands  made  on  an 
industry  or  profession  are  unusually  great,  those  engaged  in  it 
make  excessive  profits,  more  citizens  flock  to  it,  and  the  social 
structure  constituted  by  its  members  grows  ;  while  decrease 
of  the  demands,  and  therefore  of  the  profits,  either  leads  its 
members  to  choose  other  careers,  or  stops  the  accessions  needful 
to  replace  those  who  die,  and  the  structure  dwindles.  Thus  is 
maintained  that  proportion  among  the  powers  of  the  component 
parts  which  is  most  conducive  to  the  welfare  of  the  whole. 

And  now  mark  that  the  primary  condition  to  achievement 
of  this  result  is  fulfillment  of  contract.  If  from  the  members  of 
any  part  payment  is  frequently  withheld,  or  falls  short  of  the 
promised  amount,  then,  through  ruin  of  some  and  abandonment 
of  the  occupation  by  others,  the  part  diminishes ;  and  if  it  was 
before  not  more  than  competent  to  do  its  duty,  it  now  becomes 
incompetent,  and  the  society  suffers.  Or  if  social  needs  throw 
on  some  part  great  increase  of  function,  and  the  members  of  it 
are  enabled  to  get  for  their  services  unusually  high  prices,  ful- 
fillment of  the  agreements  to  give  them  these  high  prices  is 
the  only  way  of  drawing  to  the  part  such  additional  number  of 
members  as  will  make  it  equal  to  the  augmented  demands.  For 
citizens  will  not  come  to  it  if  they  find  the  high  prices  agreed 
upon  are  not  paid. 

Briefly,  then,  the  universal  basis  of  cooperation  is  the  pro- 
portioning of  benefits  received  to  services  rendered.  Without 
this  there  can  be  no  physiological  division  of  labor  ;  without  this 
there  can  be  no  sociological  division  of  labor.  And  since  divi- 
sion of  labor,  physiological  or  sociological,  profits  the  whole  and 
each  part,  it  results  that  on  maintenance  of  the  arrangements 
necessary  to  it  depend  both  special  and  general  welfare.  In  a 
society  such  arrangements  are  maintained  only  if  bargains,  overt 
or  tacit,  are  carried  out.  So  that  beyond  the  primary  require- 
ment to  harmonious  coexistence  in  a  society,  that  its  units  shall 
not  directly  aggress  on  one  another,  there  comes  this  secondary 


590  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

requirement,  that  they  shall  not  indirectly  aggress  by  breaking 
agreements. 

But  now  we  have  to  recognize  the  fact  that  complete  fulfill- 
ment of  these  conditions,  original  and  derived,  is  not  enough. 
Social  cooperation  may  be  such  that  no  one  is  impeded  in  the 
obtainment  of  the  normal  return  for  effort,  but  contrariwise  is 
aided  by  equitable  exchange  of  services ;  and  yet  much  may 
remain  to  be  achieved.  There  is  a  theoretically  possible  form 
of  society,  purely  industrial  in  its  activities,  which,  though 
approaching  nearer  to  the  moral  ideal  in  its  code  of  conduct 
than  any  society  not  purely  industrial,  does  not  fully  reach  it. 

For  while  industrialism  requires  the  life  of  each  citizen  to  be 
such  that  it  may  be  carried  on  without  direct  or  indirect  aggres- 
sions on  other  citizens,  it  does  not  require  his  life  to  be  such 
that  it  shall  directly  further  the  lives  of  other  citizens.  It  is  not 
a  necessary  implication  of  industrialism,  as  thus  far  defined,  that 
each,  beyond  the  benefits  given  and  received  by  exchange  of 
services,  shall  give  and  receive  other  benefits.  A  society  is 
conceivable  formed  of  men  leading  perfectly  inoffensive  lives, 
scrupulously  fulfilling  their  contracts,  and  efficiently  rearing 
their  offspring,  who  yet,  yielding  to  one  another  no  advantages 
beyond  those  agreed  upon,  fall  short  of  that  highest  degree  of 
life  which  the  gratuitous  rendering  of  services  makes  possible. 
Daily  experiences  prove  that  every  one  would  suffer  many  evils 
and  lose  many  goods  did  none  give  him  unpaid  assistance.  The 
life  of  each  would  be  more  or  less  damaged  had  he  to  meet 
all  contingencies,  single-handed.  Further,  if  no  one  did  for  his 
fellows  anything  more  than  was  required  by  strict  performance 
of  contract,  private  interests  would  suffer  from  the  absence  of 
attention  to  public  interests.  The  limit  of  evolution  of  conduct 
is  consequently  not  reached  until,  beyond  avoidance  of  direct 
and  indirect  injuries  to  others,  there  are  spontaneous  efforts  to 
further  the  welfare  of  others. 

It  may  be  shown  that  the  form  of  nature  which  thus  to  justice 
adds  beneficence  is  one  which  adaptation  to  the  social  state  pro- 
duces. The  social  man  has  not  reached  that  harmonization  of 
constitution  with  conditions  forming  the  limit  of  evolution  so 


THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  VIEW  OF  MORALS 


591 


long  as  there  remains  space  for  the  growth  of  faculties  which, 
by  their  exercise,  bring  positive  benefit  to  others  and  satisfac- 
tion to  self.  If  the  presence  of  fellow-men,  while  putting  cer- 
tain limits  to  each  man's  sphere  of  activity,  opens  certain  other 
spheres  of  activity  in  which  feelings,  while  achieving  their  grati- 
fications, do  not  diminish  but  add  to  the  gratifications  of  others, 
then  such  spheres  will  inevitably  be  occupied.  Recognition  of 
this  truth  does  not,  however,  call  on  us  to  qualify  greatly  that 
conception  of  the  industrial  state  above  set  forth,  since  sym- 
pathy is  the  root  of  both  justice  and  beneficence. 

Thus  the  sociological  view  of  ethics  supplements  the  physi- 
cal, the  biological,  and  the  psychological  views,  by  disclosing 
those  conditions  under  which  only  associated  activities  can  be 
so  carried  on  that  the  complete  living  of  each  consists  with  and 
conduces  to  the  complete  living  of  all. 

At  first  the  welfare  of  social  groups,  habitually  in  antagonism 
with  other  such  groups,  takes  precedence  of  individual  welfare ; 
and  the  rules  of  conduct  which  are  authoritative  for  the  time 
being  involve  incompleteness  of  individual  life  that  the  general 
life  may  be  maintained.  At  the  same  time  the  rules  have  to 
enforce  the  claims  of  individual  life  as  far  as  may  be,  since  on 
the  welfare  of  the  units  the  welfare  of  the  aggregate  largely 
depends. 

In  proportion  as  societies  endanger  one  another  less,  the  need 
for  subordinating  individual  lives  to  the  general  life  decreases ; 
and  with  approach  to  a  peaceful  state,  the  general  life,  having 
from  the  beginning  had  furtherance  of  individual  lives  as  its 
ultimate  purpose,  comes  to  have  this  as  its  proximate  purpose. 

During  the  transitional  stages  there  are  necessitated  succes- 
sive compromises  between  the  moral  code  which  asserts  the 
claims  of  the  society  versus  those  of  the  individual,  and  the 
moral  code  which  asserts  the  claims  of  the  individual  versus 
those  of  the  society.  And  evidently  each  such  compromise, 
though  for  the  time  being  authoritative,  admits  of  no  consistent 
or  definite  expression. 

But  gradually  as  war  declines  —  gradually  as  the  compulsory 
cooperation  needful  in  dealing  with  external  enemies  becomes 


592  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

unnecessary,  and  leaves  behind  the  voluntary  cooperation  which 
effectually  achieves  internal  sustentation  —  there  grows  increas- 
ingly clear  the  code  of  conduct  which  voluntary  cooperation 
implies.  And  this  final  permanent  code  alone  admits  of  being 
definitely  formulated,  and  so  constituting  ethics  as  a  science  in 
contrast  with  empirical  ethics. 

The  leading  traits  of  a  code,  under  which  complete  living 
through  voluntary  cooperation  is  secured,  may  be  simply  stated. 
The  fundamental  requirement  is  that  the  life-sustaining  actions 
of  each  shall  severally  bring  him  the  amounts  and  kinds  of 
advantage  naturally  achieved  by  them,  and  this  implies,  firstly, 
that  he  shall  suffer  no  direct  aggressions  on  his  person  or  prop- 
erty, and  secondly,  that  he  shall  suffer  no  indirect  aggressions 
by  breach  of  contract.  Observance  of  these  negative  conditions 
to  voluntary  cooperation  having  facilitated  life  to  the  greatest 
extent  by  exchange  of  services  under  agreement,  life  is  to  be 
further  facilitated  by  exchange  of  services  beyond  agreement, 
the  highest  life  being  reached  only  when,  besides  helping  to 
complete  one  another's  lives  by  specified  reciprocities  of  aid, 
men  otherwise  help  to  complete  one  another's  lives. 


XXIV 

THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS1 

We  now  open  a  wholly  new,  and  by  far  the  most  important, 
chapter  in  the  evolution  of  man.  Up  to  this  time  we  have  found 
for  him  a  body  and  the  rudiments  of  mind.  But  man  is  not  a 
body  nor  a  mind.  The  temple  still  awaits  its  final  tenant,  — the 
higher  human  soul. 

With  a  body  alone,  man  is  an  animal :  the  highest  animal,  yet  a 
pure  animal ;  struggling  for  its  own  narrow  life,  living  for  its  small 
and  sordid  ends.  Add  a  mind  to  that  and  the  advance  is  infinite. 
The  struggle  for  life  assumes  the  august  form  of  a  struggle  for 
light :  he  who  was  once  a  savage,  pursuing  the  arts  of  the  chase, 
realizes  Aristotle's  ideal  man,  "a  hunter  after  truth."  Yet  this 
is  not  the  end.  Experience  tells  us  that  man's  true  life  is  neither 
lived  in  the  material  tracts  of  the  body,  nor  in  the  higher  alti- 
tudes of  the  intellect,  but  in  the  warm  world  of  the  affections. 
Till  he  is  equipped  with  these  man  is  not  human.  He  reaches  his 
full  height  only  when  love  becomes  to  him  the  breath  of  life, 
the  energy  of  will,  the  summit  of  desire.  There  at  last  lies  all 
happiness,  and  goodness,  and  truth,  and  divinity : 

For  the  loving  worm  within  its  clod 
Were  diviner  than  a  loveless  God. 

That  love  did  not  come  down  to  us  through  the  struggle  for 
life,  the  only  great  factor  in  evolution  which  up  to  this  time  has 
been  dwelt  upon,  is  self-evident.  It  has  a  lineage  all  its  own. 
Yet  inexplicable  though  the  circumstance  be,  the  history  of  this 
force,  the  most  stupendous  the  world  has  even  known,  has  scarcely 
even  begun  to  be  investigated.  Every  other  principle  in  nature 

1  From  The  Ascent  of  Man,  by  Henry  Drummond  (copyright,  1894,  by  James 
Pott  &  Co.,  New  York). 

593 


594  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

has  had  a  thousand  prophets,  but  this  supreme  dynamic  has  run 
its  course  through  the  ages  unobserved  ;  its  rise,  so  far  as  science 
is  concerned,  is  unknown  ;  its  story  has  never  been  told.  But  if 
any  phenomenon  or  principle  in  nature  is  capable  of  treatment 
under  the  category  of  evolution,  this  is.  Love  is  not  a  late 
arrival,  an  afterthought,  with  creation.  It  is  not  a  novelty  of  a 
romantic  civilization.  It  is  not  a  pious  word  of  religion.  Its 
roots  began  to  grow  with  the  first  cell  of  life  which  budded  on 
this  earth.  How  great  it  is,  the  history  of  humanity  bears  wit- 
ness ;  but  how  old  it  is  and  how  solid,  how  bound  up  with  the 
very  constitution  of  the  world,  how  from  the  first  of  time  an 
eternal  part  of  it,  we  are  only  now  beginning  to  perceive.  For 
the  evolution  of  love  is  a  piece  of  pure  science.  Love  did  not 
descend  out  of  the  clouds  like  rain  or  snow.  It  was  distilled  on 
earth.  And  few  of  the  romances  which  in  after  years  were  to 
cluster  round  this  immortal  word  are  more  wonderful  than  the 
story  of  its  birth  and  growth.  Partly  a  product  of  crushed  lives 
and  exterminated  species,  and  partly  of  the  choicest  blossoms 
and  sweetest  essences  that  ever  came  from  the  tree  of  life,  it 
reached  its  spiritual  perfection  after  a  history  the  most  strange 
and  checkered  that  the  pages  of  nature  have  to  record.  What 
love  was  at  first,  how  crude  and  sour  and  embryonic  a  thing,  it 
is  impossible  to  conceive.  But  from  age  to  age,  with  immeasur- 
able faith  and  patience,  by  cultivations  continuously  repeated,  by 
transplantings  endlessly  varied,  the  unrecognizable  germ  of  this 
new  fruit  was  husbanded  to  its  maturity,  and  became  the  tree  on 
which  humanity,  society,  and  civilization  were  ultimately  borne. 

As  the  story  of  evolution  is  usually  told,  love  —  the  evolved 
form,  as  we  shall  see,  of  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others  —  has 
not  even  a  place.  Almost  the  whole  emphasis  of  science  has 
fallen  upon  the  opposite,  —  the  animal  struggle  for  life.  Hunger 
was  early  seen  by  the  naturalists  to  be  the  first  and  most  imperi- 
ous appetite  of  all  living  things,  and  the  course  of  nature  came 
to  be  erroneously  interpreted  in  terms  of  a  never-ending  strife. 
Since  there  are  vastly  more  creatures  born  than  can  ever  sur- 
vive, since  for  every  morsel  of  food  provided  a  hundred  claimants 
appear,  life  to  an  animal  was  described  to  us  as  one  long  tragedy ; 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     595 

and  poetry,  borrowing  the  imperfect  creed,  pictured  nature  only 
as  a  blood-red  fang.  Before  we  can  go  on  to  trace  the  higher 
progress  of  love  itself,  it  is  necessary  to  correct  this  misconcep- 
tion. And  no  words  can  be  thrown  away  if  they  serve,  in  what- 
ever imperfect  measure,  to  restore  to  honor  what  is  in  reality  the 
supreme  factor  in  the  evolution  of  the  world.  To  interpret  the 
whole  course  of  nature  by  the  struggle  for  life  is  as  absurd  as 
if  one  were  to  define  the  character  of  St.  Francis  by  the  tem- 
pers of  his  childhood.  Worlds  grow  up  as  well  as  infants  ;  their 
tempers  change,  the  better  nature  opens  out,  new  objects  of 
desire  appear,  higher  activities  are  added  to  the  lower.  The  first 
chapter  or  two  of  the  story  of  evolution  may  be  headed  The 
Struggle  for  Life ;  but  take  the  book  as  a  whole,  it  is  not  a  tale 
of  battle  :  it  is  a  love  story. 

The  circumstances,  as  has  been  already  pointed  out  in  the 
introduction,1  under  which  the  world  at  large  received  its  main 
impression  of  evolution,  obscured  these  later  and  happier  features. 
The  modern  revival  of  the  evolution  theory  occurred  almost 
solely  in  connection  with  investigations  in  the  lower  planes  of 
nature,  and  was  due  to  the  stimulus  of  the  pure  naturalists, 
notably  of  Mr.  Darwin.  But  what  Mr.  Darwin  primarily  under- 
took to  explain  was  simply  the  origin  of  species.  His  work  was 
a  study  in  infancies,  in  rudiments  ;  he  emphasized  the  earliest 
forces  and  the  humblest  phases  of  the  world's  development.  The 
struggle  for  life  was  there  the  most  conspicuous  fact, — at  least, 
on  the  surface ;  it  formed  the  keynote  of  his  teaching ;  and  the 
tragic  side  of  nature  fixed  itself  in  the  popular  mind.  The  mis- 
take the  world  made  was  twofold  :  it  mistook  Darwinism  for 
evolution,  —  a  specific  theory  of  evolution  applicable  to  a  single 
department  for  a  universal  scheme ;  and  it  misunderstood  Mr. 
Darwin  himself.  That  the  foundations  of  Darwinism  —  or  what 
was  taken  for  Darwinism  —  were  the  foundations  of  all  nature 
was  assumed.  Dazzled  with  the  apparent  solidity  of  this  founda- 
tion, men  made  haste  to  run  up  a  structure  which  included  the 
whole  vast  range  of  life,  —  vegetal,  animal,  social,  —  based  on  a 
law  which  explained  but  half  the  facts,  and  was  only  relevant,  in 
1  This  refers  to  Drummond's  Ascent  of  Man. 


596  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  crude  form  in  which  it  was  universally  stated,  for  the  child- 
hood of  the  world.  It  was  impossible  for  such  an  edifice  to  stand. 
Natural  history  cannot  in  any  case  cover  the  whole  facts  of  human 
history,  and,  so  interpreted,  can  only  fatally  distort  them.  The 
mistake  had  been  largely  qualified  had  Mr.  Darwin's  followers 
even  accepted  his  foundation  in  its  first  integrity;  but,  perhaps 
because  the  author  of  the  theory  himself  but  dimly  apprehended 
the  complement  of  his  thesis,  few  seem  to  have  perceived  that 
anything  was  amiss.  Mr.  Darwin's  sagacity  led  him  distinctly  to 
foresee  that  narrow  interpretations  of  his  great  phrase  "  struggle 
for  existence  "  were  certain  to  be  made ;  and  in  the  opening 
chapters  of  the  Origin  of  Species,  he  warns  us  that  the  term 
must  be  applied  in  its  "  large  and metaphorical  sense,  including 
dependence  of  one  being  on  another,  and  including  (which  is  more 
important)  not  only  the  life  of  the  individual,  but  success  in  leav- 
ing progeny."  l  In  spite  of  this  warning,  his  overmastering  em- 
phasis on  the  individual  struggle  for  existence  seems  to  have 
obscured,  if  not  to  his  own  mind,  certainly  to  almost  all  his  fol- 
lowers, the  truth  that  any  other  great  factor  in  evolution  existed. 
The  truth  is,  there  are  two  struggles  for  life  in  every  living 
thing,  —  the  struggle  for  life,  and  the  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others.  The  web  of  life  is  woven  upon  a  double  set  of  threads, 
the  second  thread  distinct  in  color  from  the  first,  and  giving  a 
totally  different  pattern  to  the  finished  fabric.  As  the  whole 
aspect  of  the  after-world  depends  on  this  distinction  of  strands  in 
the  warp,  it  is  necessary  to  grasp  the  distinction  with  the  utmost 
clearness.  Already,  in  the  introductory  chapter,2  the  nature  of 
the  distinction  has  been  briefly  explained.  But  it  is  necessary  to 
be  explicit  here,  even  to  redundancy.  We  have  arrived  at  a  point 
from  which  the  ascent  of  man  takes  a  fresh  departure,  a  point 
from  which  the  course  of  evolution  begins  to  wear  an  entirely 
altered  aspect.  No  such  consummation  ever  before  occurred  in 
the  progress  of  the  world  as  the  rise  to  potency  in  human  life 
of  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others.  The  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others  is  the  physiological  name  for  the  greatest  word  of  ethics  — • 

1  Origin  of  Species,  6th  ed.,  p.  50. 

3  This  refers  to  Drummond's  Ascent  of  Man. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     597 

otherism,  altruism,  love.  From  selfism  to  otherism  is  the  supreme 
transition  of  history.  It  is  therefore  impossible  to  lodge  in  the 
mind  with  too  much  solidity  the  simple  biological  fact  on  which 
the  altruistic  struggle  rests.  Were  this  a  late  phase  of  evolution, 
or  a  factor  applicable  to  single  genera,  it  would  still  be  of  supreme 
importance ;  but  it  is  radical,  universal,  involved  in  the  very 
nature  of  life  itself.  As  matter  is  to  be  interpreted  by  science  in 
terms  of  its  properties,  life  is  to  be  interpreted  in  terms  of  its 
functions.  And  when  we  dissect  down  to  that  form  of  matter 
with  which  all  life  is  associated,  we  find  it  already  discharging  in 
the  humblest  organisms  visible  by  the  microscope  the  function  on 
which  the  stupendous  superstructure  of  altruism  indirectly  comes 
to  rest.  Take  the  tiniest  protoplasmic  cell,  immerse  it  in  a  suit- 
able medium,  and  presently  it  will  perform  two  great  acts,  —  the 
two  which  sum  up  life,  which  constitute  the  eternal  distinction 
between  the  living  and  the  dead,  —  nutrition  and  reproduction. 
At  one  moment,  in  pursuance  of  the  struggle  for  life,  it  will  call 
in  matter  from  without,  and  assimilate  it  to  itself ;  at  another 
moment,  in  pursuance  of  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others,  it 
will  set  a  portion  of  that  matter  apart,  add  to  it,  and  finally  give 
it  away  to  form  another  life.  Even  at  its  dawn  life  is  receiver 
and  giver ;  even  in  protoplasm  is  selfism  and  otherism.  These 
two  tendencies  are  not  fortuitous.  They  have  been  lived  into 
existence.  They  are  not  grafts  on  the  tree  of  life :  they  are  its^ 
nature,  its  essential  life.  They  are  not  painted  on  the  canvas 
but  woven  through  it. 

The  two  main  activities,  then,  of  all  living  things  are  nutri- 
tion and  reproduction.  The  discharge  of  these  functions  in 
plants,  and  largely  in  animals,  sums  up  the  work  of  life.  The 
object  of  nutrition  is  to  secure  the  life  of  the  individual ;  the 
object  of  reproduction  is  to  secure  the  life  of  the  species.  These 
two  objects  are  thus  wholly  different.  The  first  has  a  purely 
personal  end  ;  its  attention  is  turned  inwards  ;  it  exists  only  for 
the  present.  The  second,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  is  impersonal ; 
its  attention  is  turned  outwards;  it  lives  for  the  future.  One 
of  these  objects,  in  other  words,  is  self-regarding ;  the  other  is 
other-regarding.  Both,  of  course,  at  the  outset  are  wholly  selfish  ; 


598  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

both  are  parts  of  the  struggle  for  life.  Yet  see  already  in  this 
nonethical  region  a  parting  of  the  ways.  Selfishness  and  un- 
selfishness are  two  supreme  words  in  the  moral  life.  The  first, 
even  in  physical  nature,  is  accompanied  by  the  second.  In  the 
very  fact  that  one  of  the  two  mainsprings  of  life  is  other-regard- 
ing, there  lies  a  prophecy,  a  suggestion,  of  the  day  of  altruism. 
In  organizing  the  physiological  mechanism  of  reproduction  in 
plants  and  animals,  nature  was  already  laying  wires  on  which 
one  far-off  day  the  currents  of  all  higher  things  might  travel. 

In  itself,  this  second  struggle,  this  effort  to  maintain  the  life 
of  the  species,  is  not  less  real  than  the  first ;  the  provisions  for 
effecting  it  are  not  less  wonderful ;  the  whole  is  not  less  a  part 
of  the  system  of  things.  And  taken  prophetically,  the  function  of 
reproduction  is  as  much  greater  than  the  function  of  nutrition 
as  the  man  is  greater  than  the  animal,  as  the  soul  is  higher  than 
the  body,  as  cooperation  is  stronger  than  competition,  as  love  is 
stronger  than  hate.  If  it  were  ever  to  be  charged  against  nature 
that  she  was  wholly  selfish,  here  is  the  refutation  at  the  very 
start.  One  of  the  two  fundamental  activities  of  all  life,  whether 
plant  or  animal,  is  other-regarding.  It  is  not  said  that  the  func- 
tion of  reproduction,  say,  in  a  fern  or  in  an  oak,  is  an  unselfish 
act,  yet  in  a  sense,  even  though  begotten  of  self,  it  is  an  other- 
regarding  act.  In  the  physical  world,  to  speak  of  the  struggle 
for  food  as  selfish,  or  to  call  the  struggle  for  species  unselfish, 
are  alike  incongruous.  But  if  the  morality  of  nature  is  impugned 
on  the  ground  of  the  universal  struggle  for  life,  it  is  at  least 
as  relevant  to  refute  the  charge  by  putting  moral  content  into 
the  universal  struggle  for  species.  No  true  moral  content  can  be 
put  into  either,  yet  the  one  marks  the  beginning  of  egoism,  the 
other  of  altruism.  Almost  the  whole  self-seeking  side  of  things 
has  come  down  the  line  of  the  individual  struggle  for  life  ;  almost 
the  whole  unselfish  side  of  things  is  rooted  in  the  struggle  to 
preserve  the  life  of  others. 

That  an  other-regarding  principle  should  sooner  or  later  appear 
on  the  world's  stage  was  a  necessity  if  the  world  was  ever  to 
become  a  moral  world.  And  as  everything  in  the  moral  world 
has  what  may  be  called  a  physical  basis  to  begin  with,  it  is  not 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     599 

surprising  to  find  in  the  mere  physiological  process  of  reproduc- 
tion a  physical  forecast  of  the  higher  relations,  or,  more  accu- 
rately, to  find  the  higher  relations  manifesting  themselves  at 
first  through  physical  relations.  The  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others  formed  an  indispensable  stepping-stone  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  other-regarding  virtues.  Nature  always  works  with 
long  roots.  To  conduct  otherism  upward  into  the  higher  sphere 
without  miscarriage,  and  to  establish  it  there  forever,  nature  had 
to  imbed  it  in  the  most  ancient  past,  so  organizing  and  endowing 
protoplasm  that  life  could  not  go  on  without  it,  and  compelling 
its  continuous  activity  by  the  sternest  physiological  necessity. 

To  say  that  there  is  a  certain  protest  of  the  mind  against  asso- 
ciating the  highest  ethical  ends  with  forces  in  their  first  stage 
almost  physical  is  to  confess  a  truth  which  all  must  feel.  Even 
Haeckel,  in  contrasting  the  tiny  rootlet  of  sex  attraction  between 
two  microscopic  cells  with  the  mighty  after-efflorescence  of  love 
in  the  history  of  mankind,  is  staggered  at  the  audacity  of  the 
thought,  and  pauses  in  the  heart  of  a  profound  scientific  investi- 
gation to  reflect  upon  it.  After  a  panegyric  in  which  he  says, 
"We  glorify  love  as  the  source  of  the  most  splendid  creations 
of  art ;  of  the  noblest  productions  of  poetry,  of  plastic  art,  and 
of  music ;  we  reverence  in  it  the  most  powerful  factor  in  human 
civilization,  the  basis  of  family  life,  and  consequently,  of  the 
development  of  the  state,"  ...  he  adds,  "  So  wonderful  is  love, 
and  so  immeasurably  important  is  its  influence  on  mental  life, 
that  in  this  point,  more  than  in  any  other,  '  supernatural '  causa- 
tion seems  to  mock  every  natural  explanation."  It  is  the  mystery 
of  nature,  that  between  the  loftiest  spiritual  heights  and  the 
lowliest  physical  depths  there  should  seem  to  run  a  pathway 
which  the  intellect  of  man  may  climb.  Haeckel  has  spoken,  and 
rightly,  from  the  standpoint  of  humanity  ;  yet  he  continues,  and 
with  equal  right,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  naturalist.  "  Not- 
withstanding all  this,  the  comparative  history  of  evolution  leads 
us  back  very  clearly  and  indubitably  to  the  oldest  and  simplest 
source  of  love,  to  the  elective  affinity  of  two  differing  cells."  1 

1  Haeckel's  Evolution  of  Man,  Vol.  II,  p.  394. 


600  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

SELF-SACRIFICE  IN  NATURE 

It  is  not,  however,  in  Haeckel's  "  elective  affinity  of  differing 
cells  "  that  we  must  seek  the  physical  basis  of  altruism.  That 
may  be  the  physical  basis  of  a  passion  which  is  frequently  mis- 
called love  ;  but  love  itself,  in  its  true  sense  as  self-sacrifice,  love 
with  all  its  beautiful  elements  of  sympathy,  tenderness,  pity,  and 
compassion,  has  come  down  a  wholly  different  line.  It  is  well  to 
be  clear  about  this  at  once,  for  the  function  of  reproduction  sug- 
gests to  the  biological  mind  a  view  of  this  factor  which  would 
limit  its  action  to  a  sphere  which  in  reality  forms  but  the  merest 
segment  of  the  whole.  The  struggle  for  the  life  of  others  has 
certainly  connected  with  it  sex  relations,  as  we  shall  see  ;  but  we 
can  only  use  it  scientifically,  in  its  broad  physiological  sense,  as 
literally  a  struggling  for  others,  a  giving  up  self  for  others.  And 
these  others  are  not  other-sexes.  They  have  nothing  to  do  with 
sex.  They  are  the  fruits  of  reproduction,  —  the  egg,  the  seed, 
the  nestling,  the  little  child.  So  far  from  its  chief  manifestation 
being  within  the  sphere  of  sex,  it  is  in  the  care  and  nurture  of 
the  young,  in  the  provision  everywhere  throughout  nature  for 
the  seed  and  egg,  in  the  endless  and  infinite  self-sacrifices  of 
maternity,  that  altruism  finds  its  main  expression. 

That  this  is  the  true  reading  of  the  work  of  this  second  factor 
appears  even  in  the  opening  act  of  reproduction  in  the  lowest 
plant  or  animal.  Pledged  by  the  first  law  of  its  being  —  the  law  of 
self-preservation  —  to  sustain  itself,  the  organism  is  at  the  same 
moment  pledged  by  the  second  law  to  give  up  itself.  Watch 
one  of  the  humblest  unicellular  organisms  at  the  time  of  repro- 
duction. The  cell,  when  it  grows  to  be  a  certain  size,  divides 
itself  into  two,  and  each  part  sets  up  an  independent  life.  Why 
it  does  so  is  now  known.  The  protoplasm  inside  the  cell  — 
the  body,  as  it  were  —  needs  continually  to  draw  in  fresh  food. 
This  is  secured  by  a  process  of  imbibition  or  osmosis  through 
the  surrounding  wall.  But  as  the  cell  grows  large,  there  is  not 
wall  enough  to  pass  in  all  the  food  the  far  interior  needs,  for 
while  the  bulk  increases  as  the  cube  of  the  diameter,  the  sur- 
face increases  only  as  the  square.  The  bulk  of  the  cell,  in 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     6oi 

short,  has  outrun  the  absorbing  surface  ;  its  hunger  has  out- 
grown its  satisfactions  ;  and  unless  the  cell  can  devise  some  way 
of  gaining  more  surface  it  must  starve.  Hence  the  splitting  into 
two  smaller  cells.  There  is  now  more  absorbing  surface  than 
the  two  had  when  combined.  When  the  two  smaller  cells  have 
grown  as  large  as  the  original  parent,  income  and  expenditure 
will  once  more  balance.  As  growth  continues,  the  waste  begins 
to  exceed  the  power  of  repair,  and  the  life  of  the  cell  is  again 
threatened.  The  alternatives  are  obvious.  It  must  divide,  or  die. 
If  it  divides,  what  has  saved  its  life  ?  Self-sacrifice.  By  giving 
up  its  life  as  an  individual,  it  has  brought  forth  two  individuals, 
and  these  will  one  day  repeat  the  surrender.  Here,  with  differ- 
ences appropriate  to  their  distinctive  spheres,  is  the  first  great 
act  of  the  moral  life.  All  life,  in  the  beginning,  is  self-contained, 
self-centered,  imprisoned  in  a  single  cell.  The  first  step  to  a 
more  abundant  life  is  to^g_et_ridof  this  limitation.  And  the  first 
act  of  the  prisoner  is  simply  to  break  the  walls  of  its  cell.  The 
plant  does  this  by  a  mechanical  or  physiological  process  ;  the 
moral  being,  by  a  conscious  act  which  means  at  once  the  break- 
ing up  of  selfism  and  the  recovery  of  a  larger  self  in  altruism. 
Biologically,  reproduction  begins  as  rupture.  It  is  the  release 
of  the  cell,  full  fed  yet  unsatiated,  from  itself.  "  Except  a  corn 
of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone  :  but  if  it 
die,  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit." 

These  facts  are  not  colored  to  suit  a  purpose.  There  is  no 
other  language  in  which  science  itself  can  state  them.  "  Repro- 
duction begins  as  rupture.  Large  cells,  beginning  to  die,  save 
their  lives  by  sacrifice.  Reproduction  is  literally  a  life  saving 
against  the  approach  of  death.  Whether  it  be  the  almost  ran- 
dom rupture  of  one  of  the  more  primitive  forms,  such  as  Schizo- 
genes,  or  the  overflow  and  separation  of  multiple  buds,  as  in 
Arcella,  or  the  dissolution  of  a  few  of  the  infusorians,  an  organ- 
ism, which  is  becoming  exhausted,  saves  itself  and  multiplies  in 
reproducing."  There  is  no  reproduction  in  plant,  animal,  or 
man  which  does  not  involve  self-sacrifice.  All  that  is  moral,  and 
social,  aYid  other-regarding  has  come  along  the  line  of  this  func- 
tion. Sacrifice,  moreover,  as  these  physiological  facts  disclose, 


602  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

is  not  an  accident,  nor  an  accompaniment  of  reproduction,  but 
an  inevitable  part  of  it.  It  is  the  universal  law  and  the  universal 
condition  of  life.  The  act  of  fertilization  is  the  anabolic  restora- 
tion, renewal,  and  rejuvenescence  of  a  katabolic  cell :  it  is  a 
resurrection  of  the  dead  brought  about  by  a  sacrifice  of  the 
living,  a  dying  of  part  of  life  in  order  to  further  life. 

Pass  from  the  unicellular  plant  to  one  of  the  higher  phanero- 
gams, and  the  self-sacrificing  function  is  seen  at  work  with  still 
greater  definiteness,  for  there  we  have  a  clearer  contrast  with 
the  other  function.  To  the  physiologist  a  tree  is  not  simply  a 
tree  but  a  complicated  piece  of  apparatus  for  discharging,  in  the 
first  place,  the  function  of  nutrition.  Root,  trunk,  branch,  twig, 
leaf,  are  so  many  organs  —  mouths,  lungs,  circulatory  system, 
alimentary  canal  —  for  carrying  on  to  the  utmost  perfection  the 
struggle  for  life.  But  this  is  not  all.  There  is  another  piece  of 
apparatus  within  this  apparatus  of  a  wholly  different  order.  It 
has  nothing  to  do  with  nutrition.  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
struggle  for  life.  It  is  the  flower.  The  more  its  parts  are  studied, 
in  spite  of  all  homologies,  the  more  clear  it  becomes  that  this  is  a 
construction  of  a  unique  and  wonderful  character.  So  important 
has  this  extra  apparatus  seemed  to  science,  that  it  has  named 
the  great  division  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  to  which  this  and  all 
higher  plants  belong  the  phanerogams,  —  the  flowering  plants  ; 
and  it  recognizes  the  complexity  and  physiological  value  of  this 
reproductive  specialty  by  giving  them  the  place  of  honor  at  the 
top  of  the  vegetable  creation.  Watch  this  flower  at  work  for  a 
little,  and  behold  a  miracle  !  Instead  of  struggling  for  life  it  lays 
down  its  life.  After  clothing  itself  with  a  beauty  which  is  itself 
the  minister  of  unselfishness,  it  droops,  it  wastes,  it  lays  down 
its  life.  The  tree  still  lives  ;  the  other  leaves  are  fresh  and 
green;  but  this  life  within  a  life  is  dead.  And  why?  Because 
within  this  death  is  life.  Search  among  the  withered  petals,  and 
there,  in  a  cradle  of  cunning  workmanship,  are  a  hidden  progeny 
of  clustering  seeds,  —  the  gift  to  the  future,  which  this  dying 
mother  has  brought  into  the  world  at  the  cost  of  leaving  it. 
The  food  she  might  have  lived  upon  is  given  to  her  children, 
stored  round  each  tiny  embryo  with  lavish  care,  so  that  when 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     603 

they  waken  into  the  world  the  first  helplessness  of  their  hunger 
is  met.  All  the  arrangements  in  plant  life  which  concern  the 
flower,  the  fruit,  and  the  seed  are  the  creations  of  the  struggle 
for  the  life  of  others. 

No  one,  though  science  is  supposed  to  rob  all  the  poetry  from 
nature,  reverences  a  flower  like  the  biologist.  He  sees  in  its 
bloom  the  blush  of  the  young  mother ;  in  its  fading,  the  eternal 
sacrifice  of  maternity.  A  yellow  primrose  is  not  to  him  a  yellow 
primrose.  It  is  an  exquisite  and  complex  structure  added  on  to 
the  primrose  plant  for  the  purpose  of  producing  other  primrose 
plants.  At  the  base  of  the  flower,  packed  in  a  delicate  casket, 
lie  a  number  of  small  white  objects  no  larger  than  butterflies' 
eggs.  These  are  the  eggs  of  the  primrose.  Into  this  casket,  by 
a  secret  opening,  filmy  tubes  from  the  pollen  grains — now  enticed 
from  their  hiding  place  on  the  stamens  and  clustered  on  the 
stigma  —  enter  and  pour  their  fertilizing  f ovilla  through  a  micro- 
scopic gateway  which  opens  in  the  wall  of  the  egg  and  leads  to 
its  inmost  heart.  Mysterious  changes  then  proceed.  The  embryo 
of  a  future  primrose  is  born.  Covered  with  many  protective 
coats,  it  becomes  a  seed.  The  original  casket  swells,  hardens,  is 
transformed  into  a  rounded  capsule,  opening  by  valves  or  a  deftly 
constructed  hinge.  One  day  this  capsule,  crowded  with  seeds, 
breaks  open  and  completes  the  cycle  of  reproduction  by  dis- 
persing them  over  the  ground.  There,  by  and  by,  they  will 
burst  their  enveloping  coats,  protrude  their  tiny  radicles,  and 
repeat  the  cycle  of  their  parents'  sacrificial  life. 

With  endless  variations  in  detail,  these  are  the  closing  acts  in 
the  struggle  for  the  Life  of  others  in  the  vegetable  world.  We  have 
illustrated  the  point  from  plants,  because  this  is  the  lowest  region 
where  biological  processes  can  be  seen  in  action,  and  it  is  essen- 
tial to  establish  beyond  dispute  the  fundamental  nature  of  the 
reproductive  function.  From  this  level  onwards  it  might  be  pos- 
sible to  trace  its  influence,  and  growing  influence,  throughout 
the  whole  range  of  the  animal  kingdom,  until  it  culminates  in  its 
most  consummate  expression,  —  a  human  mother.  Some  of  the 
links  in  this  unbroken  ascent  will  be  filled  in  at  a  later  stage, 
for  the  evolution  of  maternity  is  so  wonderful  and  so  intricate  as 


604  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  deserve  a  treatment  of  its  own ;  but  meantime  we  must  pass 
on  to  notice  a  few  of  the  other  gifts  which  reproduction  has  be- 
stowed upon  the  world.  In  a  rigid  sense,  it  is  impossible  to 
separate  the  gains  to  humanity  from  the  reproductive  function 
as  distinguished  from  those  of  the  nutritive.  They  are  coopera- 
tors,  not  competitors,  and  their  apparently  rival  paths  continu- 
ously intertwine.  But  mark  a  few  of  the  things  that  have  mainly 
grown  up  around  this  second  function,  and  decide  whether  or 
not  it  be  a  worthy  ally  of  the  struggle  for  life  in  the  evolution 
of  man. 

To  begin  at  the  most  remote  circumferences,  consider  what 
the  world  owes  to-day  to  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others  in 
the  world  of  plants.  This  is  the  humblest  sphere  in  which  it  can 
offer  any  gifts  at  all,  yet  these  are  already  of  such  a  magnitude 
that  without  them  the  higher  world  would  not  only  be  inexpress- 
ibly the  poorer  but  could  not  continue  to  exist.  As  we  have 
just  seen,  all  the  arrangements  in  plant  life  which  concern  the 
flower  are  the  creations  of  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others. 
For  reproduction  alone  the  flower  is  created  ;  when  the  process 
is  over  it  returns  to  the  dust.  This  miracle  of  beauty  is  a  miracle 
of  love.  Its  splendor  of  color,  its  variegations,  its  form,  its  sym- 
metry, its  perfume,  its  honey,  its  very  texture,  are  all  notes  of 
love,  —  love  calls  or  love  lures  or  love  provisions  for  the  insect 
world,  whose  aid  is  needed  to  carry  the  pollen  from  anther  to 
stigma,  and  perfect  the  development  of  its  young.  Yet  this  is 
but  a  thing  thrown  in,  in  giving  something  else.  The  flower, 
botanically,  is  the  herald  of  the  fruit.  The  fruit,  botanically,  is 
the  cradle  of  the  seed.  Consider  how  great  these  further  achieve- 
ments are,  how  large  a  place  in  the  world's  history  is  filled  by 
these  two  humble  things,  —  the  fruits  and  seeds  of  plants.  With- 
out them  the  struggle  for  life  itself  would  almost  cease.  The 
animal  struggle  for  life  is  a  struggle  for  what  ?  For  fruits  and 
seeds.  All  animals  in  the  long  run  depend  for  food  upon  fruits 
and  seeds,  or  upon  lesser  creatures  which  have  utilized  fruits 
and  seeds.  Three  fourths  of  the  population  of  the  world  at  the 
present  moment  subsist  upon  rice.  What  is  rice  ?  It  is  a  seed; 
a  product  of  reproduction.  Of  the  other  fourth,  three  fourths 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     605 

live  upon  grains, — barley,  wheat,  oats,  millet.  What  are  these 
grains  ?  Seeds,  —  stores  of  starch  or  albumen  which,  in  the  per- 
fect forethought  of  reproduction,  plants  bequeath  to  their  off- 
spring. The  foods  of  the  world,  especially  the  children's  foods, 
are  the  foods  of  the  children  of  plants,  the  foods  which  unselfish 
activities  store  round  the  cradles  of  the  helpless,  so  that  when 
the  sun  wakens  them  to  their  new  world  they  may  not  want. 
Every  plant  in  the  world  lives  for  others.  It  sets  aside  some- 
thing, something  costly,  cared  for,  the  highest  expression  of  its 
nature.  The  seed  is  the  tithe  of  love,  the  tithe  which  nature 
renders  to  man.  When  man  lives  upon  seeds  he  lives  upon  love. 
Literally,  scientifically,  love  is  life.  If  the  struggle  for  life  has 
made  man,  braced  and  disciplined  him,  it  is  the  struggle  for  love 
that  sustains  him. 

Pass  from  the  foods  of  man  to  drinks,  and  the  gifts  of  repro- 
duction once  more  all  but  exhaust  the  list.  This  may  be  mere 
coincidence,  but  a  coincidence  which  involves  both  food  and  drink 
is  at  least  worth  noting.  The  first  and  universal  food  of  the 
world  is  milk,  —  a  product  of  reproduction.  All  distilled  spirits 
are  products  of  reproduction.  All  malted  liquors  are  made  from 
the  embryos  of  plants.  All  wines  are  juices  of  the  grape.  Even 
on  the  plane  of  the  animal  appetites,  in  mere  relation  to  man's 
hunger  and  his  thirst,  the  factor  of  reproduction  is  thus  seen  to 
be  fundamental.  To  interpret  the  course  of  evolution  without 
this  would  be  to  leave  the  richest  side  even  of  material  nature 
without  an  explanation.  Retrace  the  ground  even  thus  hastily 
traveled  over,  and  see  how  full  creation  is  of  meaning,  of  antici- 
pation, of  good  for  man,  how  far  back  begins  the  undertone  of 
love.  Remember  that  nearly  all  the  beauty  of  the  world  is  love- 
beauty,  —  the  corolla  of  the  flower  and  the  plume  of  the  grass, 
the  lamp  of  the  firefly,  the  plumage  of  the  bird,  the  horn  of 
the  stag,  the  face  of  a  woman  ;  that  nearly  all  the  music  of  the 
natural  world  is  love-music,  —  the  song  of  the  nightingale,  the 
call  of  the  mammal,  the  chorus  of  the  insect,  the  serenade  of 
the  lover  ;  that  nearly  all  the  foods  of  the  world  are  love  foods,  — 
the  date  and  the  raisin,  the  banana  and  the  breadfruit,  the  locust 
and  the  honey,  the  eggs,  the  grains,  the  seeds,  the  cereals,  and 


606  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  legumes  ;  that  all  the  drinks  of  the  world  are  love  drinks,  — 
the  juices  of  the  sprouting  grain  and  the  withered  hop,  the  milk 
from  the  udder  of  the  cow,  the  wine  from  the  love  cup  of  the 
vine.  Remember  that  the  family,  the  crown  of  all  higher  life, 
is  the  creation  of  love ;  that  cooperation,  which  means  power, 
which  means  wealth,  which  means  leisure,  which  therefore 
means  art  and  culture,  recreation  and  education,  is  the  gift  of 
love.  Remember  not  only  these  things,  but  the  diffusions  of 
feeling  which  accompany  them,  the  elevations,  the  ideals,  the 
happiness,  the  goodness,  and  the  faith  in  more  goodness,  and  ask 
if  it  is  not  a  world  of  love  in  which  we  live. 

COOPERATION  IN  NATURE 

Though  cooperation  is  not  exclusively  the  gift  of  reproduction, 
it  is  so  closely  related  to  it  that  we  may  next  observe  a  few  of 
the  fruits  of  this  most  definitely  altruistic  principle.  For  here 
is  a  principle,  not  merely  a  series  of  interesting  phenomena,  pro- 
foundly rooted  in  nature  and  having  for  its  immediate  purpose 
the  establishment  of  otherism.  In  innumerable  cases,  doubtless, 
cooperation  has  been  induced  rather  by  the  action  of  the  struggle 
for  life,  —  a  striking  circumstance  in  itself,  as  showing  how  the 
very  selfish  side  of  life  has  had  to  pay  its  debt  to  the  larger  law, 
—  but  in  multitudes  more  it  is  directly  allied  with  the  struggle 
for  the  life  of  others. 

For  illustrations  of  the  principle  in  general  we  may  begin  with 
the  very  dawn  of  life.  Every  life  at  first  was  a  single  cell.  Co- 
operation was  unknown.  Each  cell  was  self-contained  and  self- 
sufficient,  and  as  new  cells  budded  from  the  parent,  they  moved 
away  and  set  up  life  for  themselves.  This  self-sufficiency  leads 
to  nothing  in  evolution.  Unicellular  organisms  may  be  multi- 
plied to  infinity,  but  the  vegetable  kingdom  can  never  rise  in 
height,  or  symmetry,  or  productiveness  without  some  radical 
change.  But  soon  we  find  the  cooperative  principle  beginning  its 
mysterious  integrating  work.  Two,  three,  four,  eight,  ten  cells 
club  together  and  form  a  small  mat,  or  cylinder,  or  ribbon,  —  the 
humblest  forms  of  corporate  plant  life,  —  in  which  each  individual 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     607 

cell  divides  the  responsibilities  and  the  gains  of  living  with  the 
rest.  The  colony  succeeds  ;  grows  larger ;  its  cooperations  be- 
come more  close  and  varied.  Division  of  labor  in  new  directions 
arises  for  the  common  good  ;  leaves  are  organized  for  nutrition, 
and  special  cells  for  reproduction.  All  the  organs  increase  in 
specialization  ;  and  the  time  arrives  when  from  cryptogams  the 
plant  world  bursts  into  flowers.  A  flower  is  organized  for  cooper- 
ation. It  is  not  an  individual  entity  but  a  commune,  a  most 
complex  social  system.  Sepal,  petal,  stamen,  anther, — each  has 
its  separate  role  in  the  economy,  each  necessary  to  the  other 
and  to  the  life  of  the  species  as  a  whole.  Mutual  aid,  having 
reached  this  stage,  can  never  be  arrested  short  of  the  extinction 
of  plant  life  itself. 

Even  after  this  stage,  so  triumphant  is  the  success  of  the 
cooperative  principle  that  having  exhausted  the  possibilities  of 
further  development  within  the  vegetable  kingdom  it  overflowed 
these  boundaries  and  carried  the  activities  of  flowers  into  regions 
which  the  plant  world  never  invaded  before.  With  a  novelty  and 
audacity  unique  in  organic  nature,  the  higher  flowering  plants, 
stimulated  by  cooperation,  opened  communication  with  two  ap- 
parently forever  unrelated  worlds,  and  established  alliances  which 
secured  from  the  subjects  of  these  distant  states  a  perpetual 
and  vital  service.  The  history  of  these  relations  forms  the  most 
entrancing  chapter  in  botanical  science.  But  so  powerfully  has 
this  illustration  of  the  principle  appealed  already  to  the  popular 
imagination  that  it  becomes  a  mere  form  to  restate  it.  What 
interests  us  anew  in  these  novel  enterprises,  nevertheless,  is 
that  they  are  directly  connected  with  the  reproductive  struggle. 
For  it  is  not  for  food  that  the  plant  world  voyages  into  foreign 
spheres,  but  to  perfect  the  supremer  labor  of  its  life. 

The  vegetable  world  is  a  world  of  still  life.  No  higher  plant 
has  the  power  to  move  to  help  its  neighbor,  or  even  to  help 
itself,  at  the  most  critical  moment  of  its  life.  And  it  is  through 
this  very  helplessness  that  these  new  cooperations  are  called  forth. 
The  fertilizing  pollen  grows  on  one  part  of  the  flower,  the  stigma 
which  is  to  receive  it  grows  on  another,  or  it  may  be  on  a  differ- 
ent plant.  But  as  these  parts  cannot  move  towards  one  another, 


6o8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  flower  calls  in  the  aid  of  moving  things.  Unconscious  of 
their  vicarious  service,  the  butterfly  and  the  bee,  as  they  flit 
from  flower  to  flower,  or  the  wind  as  it  blows  across  the  fields, 
carry  the  fertilizing  dust  to  the  waiting  stigma,  and  complete  that 
act  without  which  in  a  generation  the  species  would  become 
extinct.  No  flower  in  the  world,  at  least  no  entomophilous  flower, 
can  continuously  develop  healthy  offspring  without  the  coopera- 
tions of  an  insect ;  and  multitudes  of  flowers  without  such  aid 
could  never  seed  at  all.  It  is  to  these  cooperations  that  we  owe 
all  that  is  beautiful  and  fragrant  in  the  flower  world.  To  attract 
the  insect  and  recompense  it  for  its  trouble,  a  banquet  of  honey 
is  spread  in  the  heart  of  the  flower;  and  to  enable  the  visitor  to 
find  the  nectar,  the  leaves  of  the  flower  are  made  showy  or  con- 
spicuous beyond  all  other  leaves.  To  meet  the  case  of  insects 
which  love  the  dusk,  many  flowers  are  colored  white ;  for  those 
which  move  about  at  night  and  cannot  see  at  all,  the  night 
flowers  load  the  darkness  with  their  sweet"  perfume.  The  loveli- 
ness, the  variegations  of  shade  and  tint,  the  ornamentations,  the 
scents,  the  shapes,  the  sizes  of  flowers,  are  all  the  gifts  of  cooper- 
ation. The  flower  in  every  detail,  in  fact,  is  a  monument  to  the 
cooperative  principle. 

Scarcely  less  singular  are  the  cooperations  among  flowers  them- 
selves the  better  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  insect  world. 
Many  flowers  are  so  small  and  inconspicuous  that  insects  might 
not  condescend  to  notice  them.  But  altruism  is  always  inventive. 
Instead  of  dispersing  their  tiny  florets  over  the  plant,  these  club 
together  at  single  points,  so  that  by  the  multitude  of  numbers 
an  imposing  show  is  made.  Each  of  the  associating  flowers  in 
these  cases  preserves  its  individuality,  and,  as  we  see  in  the  elder 
or  the  hemlock,  continues  to  grow  on  its  own  flower  stalk.  But 
in  still  more  ingenious  species  the  partners  to  a  floral  advertise- 
ment sacrifice  their  separate  stems  and  cluster  close  together  on 
a  common  head.  The  thistle,  for  example,  is  not  one  flower  but  a 
colony  of  flowers,  each  complete  in  all  its  parts,  but  all  gaining 
the  advantage  of  conspicuousness  by  densely  packing  themselves 
together.  In  the  sunflowers  and  many  others  the  sacrifice  is  car- 
ried still  further.  Of  the  multitude  of  florets  clustered  together 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     609 

to  form  the  mass  of  color,  a  few  cease  the  development  of  the 
reproductive  organs  altogether,  and  allow  their  whole  strength 
to  go  towards  adding  visibility  to  the  mass.  The  florets  in  the 
center  of  the  group,  packed  close  together,  are  unable  to  do 
anything  in  this  direction ;  but  those  on  the  margin  expand  the 
perianth  into  a  blazing  circle  of  flame,  and  leave  the  deep  work 
of  reproduction  to  those  within.  What  are  the  advantages  gained 
by  all  this  mutual  aid  ?  That  it  makes  them  the  fittest  to  survive. 
These  cooperative  plants  are  among  the  most  numerous,  most 
vigorous,  and  most  widely  diffused  in  nature.  Self-sacrifice  and 
cooperation  are  thus  recognized  as  sound  in  principle.  The  bless- 
ing of  nature  falls  upon  them.  The  words  themselves,  in  any 
more  than  a  merely  physical  sense,  are  hopelessly  out  of  court 
in  any  scientific  interpretation  of  things.  But  the  point  to  mark 
is,  that  on  the  mechanical  equivalent  of  what  afterwards  come 
to  have  ethical  relations  natural  selection  places  a  premium. 
Noncooperative  or  feebly  cooperative  organisms  go  to  the  wall. 
Those  which  give  mutual  aid  survive  and  people  the  world  with 
their  kind.  Without  pausing  to  note  the  intricate  cooperations 
of  flowers  which  reward  the  eye  of  the  specialist,  —  the  subtle 
alliance  with  space  in  dioecious  flowers,  with  time  in  dichoga- 
mous  species,  and  with  size  in  the  dimorphic  and  trimorphic 
forms,  —  consider  for  a  moment  the  extension  of  the  principle  to 
the  seed  and  fruit.  Helpless,  single-handed,  as  is  a  higher  plant, 
with  regard  to  the  efficient  fertilizing  of  its  flowers,  an  almost 
more  difficult  problem  awaits  it  when  it  comes  to  the  dispersal 
of  its  seeds.  If  each  seed  fell  where  it  grew,  the  spread  of  the 
species  would  shortly  be  at  an  end.  But  nature,  working  on  the 
principle  of  cooperation,  is  once  more  redundant  in  its  provisions. 
By  a  series  of  new  alliances  the  offspring  are  given  a  start  on 
distant  and  unoccupied  ground  ;  and  so  perfect  are  the  arrange- 
ments in  this  department  of  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others 
that  single  plants,  immovably  rooted  in  the  soil,  are  yet  able  to 
distribute  their  children  over  the  world.  By  a  hundred  devices 
the  fruits  and  seeds  when  ripe  are  intrusted  to  outside  hands,  — 
provided  with  wing  or  parachute  and  launched  upon  the  wind, 
attached  by  cunning  contrivances  to  bird  and  beast,  or  dropped 


6 10  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

into  stream  and  wave  and  ocean  current  and  so  transported  over 
the  earth. 

If  we  turn  to  the  animal  kingdom,  the  principle  of  cooperation 
everywhere  once  more  confronts  us.  It  is  singular  that,  with  few 
exceptions,  science  should  still  know  so  little  of  the  daily  life  of 
even  the  common  animals.  A  few  favorite  mammals,  some  birds, 
three  or  four  of  the  more  picturesque  and  clever  of  the  insects,  — 
these  almost  exhaust  the  list  of  those  whose  ways  are  thoroughly 
known.  But  looking  broadly  at  nature,  one  general  fact  is  strik- 
ing,—  the  more  social  animals  are  in  overwhelming  preponderance 
over  the  unsocial.  Mr.  Darwin's  dictum,  that  "  those  communities 
which  included  the  greatest  number  of  the  most  sympathetic 
members  would  flourish  best  "  is  wholly  proved.  Run  over  the 
names  of  the  commoner  or  more  dominant  mammals,  and  it  will 
be  found  that  they  are  those  which  have  at  least  a  measure  of 
sociability.  The  cat  tribe  excepted,  nearly  all  live  together  in 
herds  or  troops,  —  the  elephant,  for  instance,  the  buffalo,  deer, 
antelope,  wild  goat,  sheep,  wolf,  jackal,  reindeer,  hippopotamus, 
zebra,  hyena,  and  seal.  These  are  mammals,  observe,  —  an  asso- 
ciation of  sociability  in  its  highest  developments  with  reproduc- 
tive specialization.  Cases  undoubtedly  exist  where  the  sociability 
may  not  be  referable  primarily  to  this  function  ;  but  in  most  the 
chief  cooperations  are  centered  in  love.  So  advantageous  are  all 
forms  of  mutual  service  that  the  question  may  be  fairly  asked 
whether,  after  all,  cooperation  and  sympathy  —  at  first  instinctive, 
afterwards  reasoned  —  are  not  the  greatest  facts  even  in  organic 
nature.  To  quote  the  words  of  Prince  Kropotkin :  "As  soon  as 
we  study  animals,  —  not  in  laboratories  and  museums  only,  but  in 
the  forest  and  the  prairie,  in  the  steppes  and  the  mountains,  — 
we  at  once  perceive  that  though  there  is  an  immense  amount  of 
warfare  and  extermination  going  on  amidst  various  species,  and 
especially  amidst  various  classes  of  animals,  there  is,  at  the  same 
time,  as  much,  or  perhaps  more,  of  mutual  support,  mutual  aid, 
and  mutual  defense  amidst  animals  belonging  to  the  same  species 
or,  at  least,  to  the  same  society.  Sociability  is  as  much  a  law  of 
nature  as  mutual  struggle.  ...  If  we  resort  to  an  indirect  test 
and  ask  nature,  '  Who  are  the  fittest :  those  who  are  continually 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     6ll 

at  war  with  each  other,  or  those  who  support  one  another  ? '  we 
at  once  see  that  those  animals  which  acquire  habits  of  mutual 
aid  are  undoubtedly  the  fittest.  They  have  more  chances  to 
survive,  and  they  attain,  in  their  respective  classes,  the  highest 
development  of  intelligence  and  bodily  organization.  If  the  num- 
berless facts  which  can  be  brought  forward  to  support  this  view 
are  taken  into  account,  we  may  safely  say  that  mutual  aid  is 
as  much  a  law  of  animal  life  as  mutual  struggle ;  but  that,  as  a 
factor  of  evolution,  it  most  probably  has  a  far  greater  importance, 
inasmuch  as  it  favors  the  development  of  such  habits  and  char- 
acter as  insure  the  maintenance  and  further  development  of  the 
species,  together  with  the  greatest  amount  of  welfare  and  enjoy- 
ment of  life  for  the  individual,  with  the  least  waste  of  energy."  l 
In  the  large  economy  of  nature,  almost  more  than  within  these 
specific  regions,  the  interdependence  of  part  with  part  is  unalter- 
ably established.  The  system  of  things,  from  top  to  bottom,  is 
an  uninterrupted  series  of  reciprocities.  Kingdom  corresponds 
with  kingdom,  organic  with  inorganic.  Thus,  to  carry  on  the 
larger  agriculture  of  nature,  myriads  of  living  creatures  have  to 
be  retained  in  the  earth  itself  —  in  the  earth  —  and  to  prepare 
and  renew  the  soils  in  which  the  otherwise  exhausted  ground 
may  keep  up  her  continuous  gifts  of  vegetation.  Ages  before 
man  appeared  with  his  tools  of  husbandry,  these  agriculturists  of 
nature  —  in  humid  countries  the  worm,  in  subtropical  regions  the 
white  ant  —  plowed  and  harrowed  the  earth,  so  that  without  the 
cooperations  of  these  most  lowly  forms  of  life  the  higher  beauty 
and  fruitf ulness  of  the  world  had  been  impossible.  The  very 
existence  of  animal  life,  to  take  another  case  of  broad  economy, 
is  possible  only  through  the  mediation  of  the  plant.  No  animal 
has  the  power  to  satisfy  one  single  impulse  of  hunger  without 
the  cooperation  of  the  vegetable  world.  It  is  one  of  the  mys- 
teries of  organic  chemistry  that  the  chlorophyll  contained  in  the 
green  parts  of  plants,  alone  among  substances,  has  the  power  to 
break  up  the  mineral  kingdom  and  utilize  the  products  as  food. 
Though  detected  recently  in  the  tissues  of  two  of  the  very  lowest 
animals,  chlorophyll  is  the  peculiar  possession  of  the  vegetable 

1  Nineteenth  Century,  1890,  p.  340. 


612  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

kingdom,  and  forms  the  solitary  point  of  contact  between  man 
and  all  higher  animals  and  their  supply  of  food.  Every  grain  of 
matter  therefore  eaten  by  man,  every  movement  of  the  body, 
every  stroke  of  work  done  by  muscle  or  brain,  depends  upon  the 
contribution  of  a  plant,  or  of  an  animal  which  has  eaten  a  plant. 
Remove  the  vegetable  kingdom,  or  interrupt  the  flow  of  its  un- 
conscious benefactions,  and  the  whole  higher  life  of  the  world 
ends.  Everything,  indeed,  came  into  being  because  of  something 
else,  and  continues  to  be  because  of  its  relations  to  something 
else.  The  matter  of  the  earth  is  built  up  of  cooperating  atoms  ; 
it  owes  its  existence,  its  motion,  and  its  stability  to  cooperating 
stars.  Plants  and  animals  are  made  of  cooperating  cells,  nations 
of  cooperating  men.  Nature  makes  no  move  ;  society  achieves  no 
end ;  the  cosmos  advances  not  one  step  that  is  not  dependent  on 
cooperation ;  and  while  the  discords  of  the  world  disappear  with 
growing  knowledge,  science  only  reveals  with  increasing  clear- 
ness the  universality  of  its  reciprocities. 

But  to  return  to  the  more  direct  effects  of  reproduction. 
After  creating  others  there  lay  before  evolution  a  not  less  neces- 
sary task, — the  task  of  uniting  them  together.  To  create  units  in 
indefinite  quantities  and  scatter  them  over  the  world  is  not  even 
to  take  one  single  step  in  progress.  Before  any  higher  evolution 
can  take  place,  these  units  must  by  some  means  be  brought  into 
relation  so  as  not  only  to  act  together  but  to  react  upon  each 
other.  According  to  well-known  biological  laws,  it  is  only  in 
combinations,  whether  of  atoms,  cells,  animals,  or  human  beings, 
that  individual  units  can  make  any  progress,  and  to  create  such 
combinations  is  in  every  case  the  first  condition  of  development. 
Hence  the  first  commandment  of  evolution  everywhere  is,  "  Thou 
shalt  mass,  segregate,  combine,  grow  large."  Organic  evolution, 
as  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  tells  us,  "  is  primarily  the  formation  of  an 
aggregate."  No  doubt  the  necessities  of  the  struggle  for  life 
tended  in  many  ways  to  fulfill  this  condition,  and  the  organiza- 
tion of  primitive  societies,  both  animal  and  human,  are  largely 
its  creation.  Under  its  influence  these  were  called  together  for 
mutual  protection  and  mutual  help ;  and  cooperations  induced  in 
this  way  have  played  an  important  part  in  evolution.  But  the 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     613 

cooperations  brought  about  by  reproduction  are  at  once  more 
radical,  more  universal,  and  more  efficient.  The  struggle  for 
life  is  in  part  a  disruptive  force.  The  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others  is  wholly  a  social  force.  The  social  efforts  of  the  first  are 
secondary ;  those  of  the  last  are  primary.  And  had  it  not  been 
for  the  stronger  and  unbreakable  bond  which  the  struggle  for 
the  life  of  others  introduced  into  the  world  the  organization  of 
societies  had  never  even  been  begun.  How  subtly  reproduction 
effects  its  purpose  an  illustration  will  make  plain.  And  we  shall 
select  it  again  from  the  lowest  world  of  life,  so  that  the  funda- 
mental nature  of  this  factor  may  be  once  more  vindicated  on 
the  way. 

More  than  two  thousand  years  ago  Herodotus  observed  a  re- 
markable custom  in  Egypt.  At  a  certain  season  of  th6  year  the 
Egyptians  went  into  the  desert,  cut  off  branches  from  the  wild 
palms,  and,  bringing  them  back  to  their  gardens,  waved  them 
over  the  flowers  of  the  date  palm.  Why  they  performed  this 
ceremony  they  did  not  know  ;  but  they  knew  that  if  they  neg- 
lected it,  the  date  crop  would  be  poor  or  wholly  lost.  Herodotus 
offers  the  quaint  explanation  that  along  with  these  branches 
there  came  from  the  desert  certain  flies  possessed  of  a  "vivific 
virtue,"  which  somehow  lent  an  exuberant  fertility  to  the  dates. 
But  the  true  rationale  of  the  incantation  is  now  explained.  Palm 
trees,  like  human  beings,  are  male  and  female.  The  garden 
plants,  the  date  bearers,  were  females,  the  desert  plants  were 
males ;  and  the  waving  of  the  branches  over  the  females  meant 
the  transference  of  the  fertilizing  pollen  dust  from  the  one 
to  the  other. 

Now  consider,  in  the  far-away  province  of  the  vegetable  king- 
dom, the  strangeness  of  this  phenomenon.  Here  are  two  trees 
living  wholly  different  lives  ;  they  are  separated  by  miles  of 
desert  sand ;  they  are  unconscious  of  one  another's  existence ; 
and  yet  they  are  so  linked  together  that  their  separation  into 
two  is  a  mere  illusion.  Physiologically  they  are  one  tree  ;  they 
cannot  dwell  apart.  It  is  nothing  to  the  point  that  they  are 
neither  dowered  with  locomotion  nor  the  power  of  conscious 
choice.  The  point  is,  that  there  is  that  in  nature  which  unites 


614  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

these  seemingly  disunited  things,  which  effects  combinations  and 
cooperations  where  one  would  least  believe  them  possible,  which 
sustains  by  arrangements  of  the  most  elaborate  kind  inter-rela- 
tions between  tree  and  tree.  By  a  device  the  most  subtle  of  all 
that  guard  the  higher  evolution  of  the  world,  —  the  device  of  sex, 
—  nature  accomplishes  this  task  of  throwing  irresistible  bonds 
around  widely  separate  things,  and  establishing  such  sympathies 
between  them  that  they  must  act  together  or  forfeit  the  very 
life  of  their  kind.  Sex  is  a  paradox ;  it  is  that  which  separates 
in  order  to  unite.  The  same  mysterious  mesh  which  nature 
threw  over  the  two  separate  palms,  she  threw  over  the  few  and 
scattered  units  which  were  to  form  the  nucleus  of  mankind. 

Picture  the  state  of  primitive  man  ;  his  fear  of  other  primitive 
men  ;  his  "hatred  of  them  ;  his  unsociability  ;  his  isolation  ;  and 
think  how  great  a  thing  was  done  by  sex  in  merely  starting  the 
crystallization  of  humanity.  At  no  period,  indeed,  was  man  ever 
utterly  alone.  There  is  no  such  thing  in  nature  as  a  man,  or  for 
the  matter  of  that  as  an  animal,  except  among  the  very  hum- 
blest forms.  Wherever  there  is  a  higher  animal  there  is  another 
animal ;  wherever  there  is  a  savage  there  is  another  savage, — the 
other  half  of  him,  a  female  savage.  This  much,  at  least,  sex  has 
done  for  the  world  :  it  has  abolished  the  numeral  one.  Observe, 
it  has  not  simply  discouraged  the  existence  of  one,  it  has  abol- 
ished the  existence  of  one.  The  solitary  animal  must  die,  and 
can  leave  no  successor.  Unsociableness,  therefore,  is  banished 
out  of  the  world  ;  it  has  become  the  very  condition  of  continued 
existence  that  there  should  always  be  a  family  group,  or  at  least 
pair.  The  determination  of  nature  to  lay  the  foundation  stone  of 
corporate  national  life  at  this  point,  and  to  imbed  sociability  for- 
ever in  the  constitution  of  humanity,  is  only  obvious  when  we 
reflect  with  what  extraordinary  thoroughness  this  evolution  of 
sex  was  carried  out.  There  is  no  instance  in  nature  of  division 
of  labor  being  brought  to  such  extreme  specialization.  The  two 
sexes  were  not  only  set  apart  to  perform  different  halves  of  the 
same  function,  but  each  so  entirely  lost  the  power  of  performing 
the  whole  function  that  even  with  so  great  a  thing  at  stake  as  the 
continuance  of  the  species  one  could  not  discharge  it.  Association, 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS      615 

combination,  mutual  help,  fellowship,  affection  —  things  on  which 
all  material  and  moral  progress  would  ultimately  turn  —  were 
thus  forced  upon  the  world  at  the  bayonet's  point. 

This  hint,  that  the  course  of  development  is  taking  a  social 
rather  than  an  individual  direction,  is  of  immense  significance. 
If  that  can  be  brought  about  by  the  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others,  —  and  in  the  next  chapters  we  shall  see  that  it  has  been, 
—  there  can  be  no  dispute  about  the  rank  of  the  fector  which 
consummates  it.  Along  the  line  of  the  physiological  function 
of  reproduction,  in  association  with  its  induced  activities  and  re- 
lations, not  only  has  altruism  entered  the  world,  but  along  with 
it  the  necessary  field  for  its  expansion  and  full  expression.  If 
nature  is  to  be  read  solely  in  the  light  of  the  struggle  for  life,  these 
ethical  anticipations  —  and  as  yet  we  are  but  at  the  beginning  of 
them  —  for  a  social  world  and  a  moral  life  must  remain  the  stul- 
tification both  of  science  and  of  teleology. 

THE  ETHICAL  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  SEX 

Next  among  the  gifts  of  reproduction  fall  to  be  examined  some 
further  contributions  yielded  by  the  new  and  extraordinary  device 
which  a  moment  ago  leaped  into  prominence,  —  sex.  The  direct, 
and  especially  the  collateral,  issues  here  are  of  such  significance 
that  it  will  be  essential  to  study  them  in  detail.  Realize  the 
novelty  and  originality  of  this  most  highly  specialized  creation, 
and  it  will  be  seen  at  once  that  something  of  exceptional  moment 
must  lie  behind  it.  Here  is  a  phenomenon  which  stands  abso- 
lutely alone  on  the  field  of  nature.  There  is  not  only  nothing  at 
all  like  it  in  the  world,  but  while  everything  else  has  homologues 
or  analogues  somewhere  in  the  cosmos,  this  is  without  any  par- 
allel. Familiarity  has  so  accustomed  us  to  it  that  we  accept  the 
sex  separation  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  but  no  words  can  do  justice 
to  the  wonder  and  novelty  of  this  strange  line  of  cleavage  which 
cuts  down  to  the  very  root  of  being  in  everything  that  lives. 

No  theme  of  equal  importance  has  received  less  attention  than 
this  from  evolutionary  philosophy.  The  single  problems  which  sex 
suggests  have  been  investigated  with  a  keenness  and  brilliance 


616  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  treatment  never  before  brought  to  bear  in  this  mysterious 
region ;  and  Mr.  Darwin's  theory  of  sexual  selection,  whether 
true  or  false,  has  called  attention  to  a  multitude  of  things  in 
living  nature  which  seem  to  find  a  possible  explanation  here. 
But  the  broad  and  simple  fact  that  this  division  into  maleness 
and  femaleness  should  run  between  almost  every  two  of  every 
plant  and  every  animal  in  existence  must  have  implications  of  a 
quite  exceptional  kind. 

How  deep,  from  the  very  dawn  of  life,  this  rent  between  the 
two  sexes  yawns  is  only  now  beginning  to  be  seen.  Examine 
one  of  the  humblest  water  weeds, — the  Spirogyra.  It  consists  of 
waving  threads  or  necklaces  of  cells,  each  plant  to  the  eye  the 
exact  duplicate  of  the  other.  Yet  externally  alike  as  they  seem, 
the  one  has  the  physiological  value  of  the  male,  the  other  of  the 
female.  Though  a  primitive  method  of  reproduction,  the  process 
in  this  case  foreshadows  the  law  of  all  higher  vegetable  life. 
From  this  point  upwards,  though  there  are  many  cases  where 
reproduction  is  asexual,  in  nearly  every  family  of  plants  a  repro- 
duction by  spores  takes  place,  and  where  it  does  not  take  place 
its  absence  is  abnormal  and  to  be  accounted  for  by  degenera- 
tion. When  we  reach  the  higher  plants  the  differences  of  sex 
become  as  marked  as  among  the  higher  animals.  Male  and  female 
flowers  grow  upon  separate  trees,  or  live  side  by  side  on  the 
same  branch,  yet  so  unlike  one  another  in  form  and  color  that 
the  untrained  eye  would  never  know  them  to  be  relatives.  Even 
when  male  and  female  are  grown  on  the  same  flower  stalk  and 
inclosed  in  a  common  perianth,  the  hermaphroditism  is  generally 
but  apparent,  owing  to  the  physiological  barriers  of  hetero- 
morphism  and  dichogamy.  Sex  separation,  indeed,  is  not  only 
distinct  among  flowering  plants  but  is  kept  up  by  a  variety  of 
complicated  devices,  and  a  return  to  hermaphroditism  is  pre- 
vented by  the  most  elaborate  precautions. 

When  we  turn  to  the  animal  kingdom  again  the  same  great 
contrast  arrests  us.  Half  a  century  ago,  when  Balbiani  described 
the  male  and  female  elements  in  microscopic  infusorians,  his 
facts  were  all  but  rejected  by  science.  But  further  research 
has  placed  it  beyond  all  doubt  that  the  beginnings  of  sex  are 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     617 

almost  synchronous  with  those  shadowings  in  of  life.  From  a  state 
marked  by  a  mere  varying  of  the  nuclear  elements,  a  state  which 
might  almost  be  described  as  one  antecedent  to  sex,  the  sex  dis- 
tinction slowly  gathers  definition,  and  passing  through  an  in- 
finite variety  of  forms,  and  with  countless  shades  of  emphasis, 
reaches  at  last  the  climax  of  separateness  which  is  observed 
among  birds  and  mammals.  Often,  even  in  the  Metazoa,  this 
separateness  is  outwardly  obscured,  as  in  starfishes  and  reptiles  ; 
often  it  is  matter  of  common  observation  ;  while  sometimes  it  is 
carried  to  such  a  pitch  of  specialization  that  only  the  naturalist 
identifies  the  two  wholly  unlike  creatures  as  male  and  female. 
Through  the  whole  wide  field  of  nature,  then,  this  gulf  is  fixed. 
Each  page  of  the  million-leaved  book  of  species  must  be,  as  it 
were,  split  in  two,  the  one  side  for  the  male,  the  other  for  the 
female.  Classification  naturally  takes  little  note  of  this  distinc- 
tion ;  but  it  is  fundamental.  Unlikenesses  between  like  things 
are  more  significant  than  unlikenesses  of  unlike  things.  And 
the  unlikenesses  between  male  and  female  are  never  small,  and 
are  almost  always  great.  Though  the  fundamental  difference  is 
internal,  the  external  form  varies  ;  size,  color,  and  a  multitude  of 
more  or  less  striking  secondary  characteristics  separate  the  one 
from  the  other.  Besides  this,  and  more  important  than  all,  the 
cycle  of  a  year's  life  is  never  the  same  for  the  male  as  for  the 
female  ;  they  are  destined  from  the  beginning  to  pursue  different 
paths,  to  live  for  different  ends. 

Now  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  To  say  that  the  sex  distinc- 
tion is  necessary  to  sustain  the  existence  of  life  in  the  world  is 
no  answer,  since  it  is  at  least  possible  that  life  could  have  been 
kept  up  without  it.  From  the  facts  of  parthenogenesis,  illus- 
trated in  bees  and  termites,  it  is  now  certain  that  reproduction 
can  be  effected  without  fertilization  ;  and  the  circumstance  that 
fertilization  is  nevertheless  the  rule  proves  this  method  of  repro- 
duction, though  not  a  necessity,  to  be  in  some  way  beneficial  to 
life.  It  is  important  to  notice  this  absence  of  any  necessity  for 
the  creation  of  sex  —  the  absence  of  any  known  necessity  — 
from  the  merely  physiological  standpoint.  Is  it  inconceivable 
that  nature  should  sometimes  do  things  with  an  ulterior  object, 


6l8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

—  an  ethical  one,  for  instance  ?  To  no  one  with  any  acquaint- 
ance with  nature's  ways  will  it  be  possible  to  conceive  of  such 
a  purpose  as  the  sole  purpose.  In  these  early  days  when  sex 
was  instituted  it  was  a  physical  universe.  Undoubtedly  sex  then 
had  physiological  advantages ;  but  when  in  a  later  day  the 
ethical  advantages  become  visible,  and  rise  to  such  significance 
that  the  higher  world  almost  wholly  rests  upon  them,  we  are 
entitled,  as  viewing  the  world  from  that  higher  level,  to  have  our 
own  suspicions  as  to  a  deeper  motive  underlying  the  physical. 

Apart  from  bare  necessity,  it  is  further  remarkable  that  no 
very  clear  advantage  of  the  sex  distinction  has  yet  been  made 
out  by  science.  Hensen  and  Van  Beneden  are  able  to  see  in 
conjugation  no  more  than  a  Verjungung,  or  rejuvenescence  of 
the  species.  The  living  machinery  in  its  wearing  activities  runs 
down  and  has  to  be  wound  up  again  ;  to  keep  life  going  some 
fresh  impulse  must  be  introduced  from  time  to  time,  or  the  pro- 
toplasm, exhausting  itself,  seeks  restoration  in  fertilization  and 
starts  afresh.1  To  Hatschek  it  is  a  remedy  against  the  action  of 
injurious  variations ;  while  to  Weismann  it  is  simply  the  source 
of  variations.  "I  do  not  know,"  says  the  latter,  "what  mean- 
ing can  be  attributed  to  sexual  reproduction  other  than  the  cre- 
ation of  hereditary  individual  characters  to  form  the  material 
on  which  natural  selection  may  work.  Sexual  reproduction  is 
so  universal  in  all  classes  of  multicellular  organisms,  and  nature 
deviates  so  rarely  from  it,  that  it  must  necessarily  be  of  pre- 
eminent importance.  If  it  be  true  that  new  species  are  pro- 
duced by  processes  of  selection,  it  follows  that  the  development 
of  the  whole  organic  world  depends  on  these  processes,  and  the 
part  that  amphigony  has  to  play  in  nature,  by  rendering  selection 
possible  among  multicellular  organisms,  is  not  only  important 
but  of  the  very  highest  imaginable  importance."  2 

These  views  may  be  each  true,  and  probably,  in  a  measure, 
are ;  but  the  fact  remains  that  the  later  psychical  implications  of 
sex  are  of  such  transcendent  character  as  to  throw  all  physical 
considerations  into  the  shade.  When  we  turn  to  these,  their 

1  Geddes  and  Thomson,  The  Evolution  of  Sex,  p.  163. 

2  Biological  Memoirs,  p.  281. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     619 

significance  is  as  obvious  as  in  the  other  case  it  was  obscure. 
This  will  appear  if  we  take  even  the  most  distinctively  biological 
of  these  theories,  —  that  of  Weismann.  Sex,  to  him,  is  the  great 
source  of  variation  in  nature,  —  in  plainer  English,  of  the  variety 
of  organisms  in  the  world.  Now  this  variety,  though  not  the 
main  object  of  sex,  is  precisely  what  it  was  essential  for  evolu- 
tion by  some  means  to  bring  about.  The  first  work  of  evolution 
always  is,  as  we  have  seen,  to  create  a  mass  of  similar  things,  — 
atoms,  cells,  men,  —  and  the  second  is  to  break  up  that  mass 
into  as  many  different  kinds  of  things  as  possible.  Aggregation 
masses  the  raw  material,  collects  the  clay  for  the  potter ;  differ- 
entiation destroys  the  featureless  monotonies  as  fast  as  they  are 
formed,  and  gives  them  back  in  new  and  varied  forms.  Now  if 
evolution  designed,  among  other  things,  to  undertake  the  differ- 
entiation of  mankind,  it  could  not  have  done  it  more  effectively 
than  through  the  device  of  sex.  To  the  blending,  or  to  the 
mosaics,  of  the  different  characteristics  of  father  and  mother, 
and  of  many  previous  fathers  and  mothers,  under  the  subtle  wand 
of  heredity,  all  the  varied  interests  of  the  human  world  are  due. 
When  one  considers  the  passing  on  not  so  much  of  minute 
details  of  character  and  disposition,  but  of  the  dominant  tempera- 
ment and  type,  the  new  proportion  in  which  already  inextricably 
mingled  tendencies  are  rearranged,  and  the  changed  environment 
in  which,  with  each  new  generation,  they  must  unfold,  it  is  seen 
how  perfect  an  instrument  for  variegating  humanity  lies  here. 
Had  sex  done  nothing  more  than  make  an  interesting  world,  the 
debt  of  evolution  to  reproduction  had  been  incalculable. 

THE  ETHICAL  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  MATERNITY 

But  let  us  not  be  diverted  from  the  main  stream  by  these  sec- 
ondary results  of  the  sex  distinction.  A  far  more  important  impli- 
cation lies  before  us.  The  problem  that  remains  for  us  to  settle 
is  as  to  how  the  merely  physical  forms  of  otherism  began  to  be 
accompanied  or  overlaid  by  ethical  characters.  And  the  solution 
of  this  problem  requires  nothing  more  than  a  consideration  of 
the  broad  and  fundamental  fact  of  sex  itself.  In  what  it  is,  and 


620  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

in  what  it  necessarily  implies,  we  shall  find  the  clew  to  the  be- 
ginnings of  the  social  and  moral  order  of  the  world.  For,  rising 
on  the  one  hand  out  of  maleness  and  on  the  other  hand  out  of 
femaleness,  developments  take  place  of  such  a  kind  as  to  consti- 
tute this  the  turning-point  of  the  world's  moral  history.  Let  it 
be  said  at  once  that  these  developments  are  not  to  be  sought  for 
in  the  direction  in  which,  from  the  nature  of  the  factors,  one 
might  hastily  suppose  that  they  lay.  What  seems  to  be  imminent 
at  this  stage,  and  as  the  natural  end  to  which  all  has  led  up,  is 
the  institution  of  affection  in  definite  forms  between  male  and 
female.  But  we  are  on  a  very  different  track.  Affection  between 
male  and  female  is  a  later,  less  fundamental,  and,  in  its  beginnings, 
less  essential  growth  ;  and  long  prior  to  its  existence,  and  largely 
the  condition  of  it,  is  the  even  more  beautiful  development  whose 
progress  we  have  now  to  trace.  The  basis  of  this  new  develop- 
ment is  indeed  far  removed  from  the  mutual  relations  of  sex  with 
sex.  For  it  lies  in  maleness  and  femaleness  themselves,  in  their 
inmost  quality  and  essential  nature,  in  what  they  lead  to  and 
what  they  become.  The  superstructure  certainly  owes  much  to 
the  psychical  relations  of  father  and  mother,  husband  and  wife  ; 
but  the  evolution  of  love  began  ages  before  these  were  established. 

What  exactly  maleness  is,  and  what  femaleness,  has  been  one 
of  the  problems  of  the  world.  At  least  five  hundred  theories  of 
their  origin  are  already  in  the  field,  but  the  solution  seems  to 
have  baffled  every  approach.  Sex  has  remained  almost  to  the 
present  hour  an  ultimate  mystery  of  creation,  and  men  seem  to 
know  as  little  what  it  is  as  whence  it  came.  But  among  the  last 
words  of  modern  science  there  are  one  or  two  which  spell  out  a 
partial  clew  to  both  of  these  mysterious  problems.  The  method 
by  which  this  has  been  reached  is  almost  for  .the  first  time  a 
purely  biological  one,  and  if  its  inferences  are  still  uncertain,  it 
has  at  least  established  some  important  facts. 

Starting  with  the  function  of  nutrition  as  the  nearest  ally  of 
reproduction,  the  newer  experimenters  have  discovered  cases  in 
which  sex  apparently  has  been  determined  by  the  quantity  and 
quality  of  the  food  supply.  And  in  actual  practice  it  has  been 
found  possible,  in  the  case  of  certain  organisms,  to  produce  either 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     621 

maleness  or  femaleness  by  simply  varying  their  •  nutrition, — 
femaleness  being  an  accompaniment  of  abundant  food,  maleness 
of  the  reverse.  When  Yung,  to  take  an  authentic  experiment, 
began  his  observations  on  tadpoles,  he  ascertained  that  in  the 
ordinary  natural  condition  the  number  of  males  and  females  pro- 
duced was  not  far  from  equal,  —  the  percentage  being  about 
fifty-seven  females  to  forty-three  males,  thus  giving  the  females 
a  preponderance  of  seven.  But  when  a  brood  of  tadpoles  was 
sumptuously  fed  the  percentage  of  females  rose  to  seventy-eight, 
and  when  a  second  brood  was  treated  even  more  liberally  the 
number  amounted  to  eighty-one.  In  a  third  experiment  with  a 
still  more  highly  nutritious  diet,  the  result  of  the  high  feeding 
was  more  remarkable,  for  in  this  case  ninety-two  females  were 
produced  and  only  eight  males.  In  the  case  of  butterflies  and 
moths,  it  has  been  found  that  if  caterpillars  are  starved  before 
entering  the  chrysalis  state  the  offspring  are  males,  while  others 
of  the  same  brood,  when  highly  nourished,  develop  into  females. 
A  still  more  instructive  case  is  that  of  the  aphides,  the  famil- 
iar plant  lice  of  our  gardens.  During  the  warmth  of  summer, 
when  food  is  abundant,  these  insects  produce  parthenogenetically 
nothing  but  females,  while  in  the  famines  of  later  autumn  they 
give  birth  to  males.  In  striking  confirmation  of  this  fact  it  has 
been  proved  that  in  a  conservatory  where  the  aphides  enjoy  perpet- 
ual summer,  the  parthenogenetic  succession  of  females  continued 
to  go  on  for  four  years  and  stopped  only  when  the  temperature 
was  lowered  and  food  diminished.  Then  males  were  at  once 
produced.1  It  will  no  longer  be  said  that  science  is  making  no 
progress  with  this  unique  problem  when  it  is  apparently  able  to 
determine  sex  by  turning  off  or  on  the  steam  in  a  greenhouse. 
With  regard  to  bees,  the  relation  between  nutrition  and  sex  seems 
equally  established.  "The  three  kinds  of  inmates  in  a  beehive 
are  known  to  every  one  as  queens,  workers,  and  drones  ;  or,  as 
fertile  females,  imperfect  females,  and  males.  What  are  the 
factors  determining  the  differences  between  these  three  forms  ? 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  believed  that  the  eggs  which  give  rise  to 
drones  are  not  fertilized,  while  those  that  develop  into  queens 

1  The  Evolution  of  Sex,  pp.  41-46. 


622  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  workers  have  the  normal  history.  But  what  fate  rules  the 
destiny  of  the  two  latter,  determining  whether  a  given  ovum  will 
turn  out  the  possible  mother  of  a  new  generation,  or  remain  at 
the  lower  level  of  a  nonfertile  working  female  ?  It  seems  certain 
that  the  fate  mainly  lies  in  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  food. 
Royal  diet,  and  plenty  of  it,  develops  the  future  queens.  .  .  . 
Up  to  a  certain  point  the  nurse  bees  can  determine  the  future 
destiny  of  their  charge  by  changing  the  diet,  and  this  in  some 
cases  is  certainly  done.  If  a  larva  on  the  way  to  become  a 
worker  receive  by  chance  some  crumbs  from  the  royal  super- 
fluity, the  reproductive  function  may  develop,  and  what  are 
called  'fertile  workers,'  to  a  certain  degree  above  the  average 
abortiveness,  result ;  or,  by  direct  intention,  a  worker  grub  may 
be  reared  into  a  queen  bee."  1 

It  is  unnecessary  to  prolong  the  illustration,  for  the  point  it  is 
wished  to  emphasize  is  all  but  in  sight.  As  we  have  just  wit- 
nessed, the  tendency  of  abundant  nutrition  is  to  produce  females, 
while  defective  nutritive  conditions  produce  males.  This  means 
that  in  so  far  as  nutrition  reacts  on  the  bodies  of  animals  —  and 
nothing  does  so  more  —  there  will  be  a  growing  difference,  as 
time  begins  to  accumulate  the  effects,  between  the  organization 
and  life  habit  of  male  and  female  respectively.  In  the  male, 
destructive  processes,  a  preponderance  of  waste  over  repair,  will 
prevail ;  the  result  will  be  a  katabolic  habit  of  body ;  in  the 
female,  the  constructive  processes  will  be  in  the  ascendant,  occa- 
sioning an  opposite  or  anabolic  habit.  Translated  in  less  technical 
language,  this  means  that  the  predominating  note  in  the  male 
will  be  energy,  motion,  activity ;  while  passivity,  gentleness, 
repose,  will  characterize  the  female.  These  words,  let  it  be 
noticed,  psychical  though  they  seem,  are  yet  here  the  coinages 
of  physiology.  No  other  terms  indeed  would  describe  the  differ- 
ence. Thus  Geddes  and  Thomson:  "  The  female  cochineal  insect, 
laden  with  reserve  products  in  the  form  of  the  well-known  pig- 
ment, spends  much  of  its  life  like  a  mere  quiescent  gall  on  the 
cactus  plant.  The  male,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  adult  state,  is 
agile,  restless,  and  short-lived.  Now  this  is  no  mere  curiosity  of 

1  The  Evolution  of  Sex,  p.  42. 


THE  STRUGGLE   FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS      623 

the  entomologist,  but  in  reality  a  vivid  emblem  of  what  is  an 
average  truth  throughout  the  world  of  animals,  —  the  preponder- 
ating passivity  of  the  females,  the  freedomness  and  activity  of 
the  males."  Rolph's  words,  because  he  writes  neither  of  men 
nor  of  animals,  but  goes  back  to  the  furthest  recess  of  nature 
and  characterizes  the  cell  itself,  are  still  more  significant :  "  The 
less  nutritive  and  therefore  smaller,  hungrier,  and  more  mobile 
organism  is  the  male  ;  the  more  nutritive  and  usually  more  qui- 
escent is  the  female." 

Now  what  do  these  facts  indicate  ?  They  indicate  that  male- 
ness  is  one  thing  and  femaleness  another,  and  that  each  has 
been  specialized  from  the  begining  to  play  a  separate  r61e  in  the 
drama  of  life.  Among  primitive  peoples,  as  largely  in  modern 
times,  "The  tasks  which  demand  a  powerful  development  of 
muscle  and  bone,  and  the  resulting  capacity  for  intermittent 
spurts  of  energy,  involving  corresponding  periods  of  rest,  fall  to 
the  man  ;  the  care  of  the  children  and  all  the  various  industries 
which  radiate  from  the  hearth,  and  which  call  for  an  expenditure 
of  energy  more  continuous,  but  at  a  lower  tension,  fall  to  the 
woman."  1  Whether  this  or  any  theory  of  the  origin  of  sex  be 
proved  or  unproved,  the  fact  remains,  and  is  everywhere  empha- 
sized in  nature,  that  a  certain  constitutional  difference  exists 
between  male  and  female,  —  a  difference  inclining  the  one  to  a 
robuster  life  and  implanting  in  the  other  a  certain  mysterious 
bias  in  the  direction  of  what  one  can  only  call  the  womanly 
disposition. 

On  one  side  of  the  great  line  of  cleavage  have  grown  up  men, 
—  those  whose  lives  for  generations  and  generations  have  been 
busied  with  one  particular  set  of  occupations  ;  on  the  other  side 
have  lived  and  developed  women,  —  those  who  for  generations 
have  been  busied  with  another  and  a  widely  different  set  of  occu- 
pations. And  as  occupations  have  inevitable  reactions  upon  mind, 
character,  and  disposition,  these  two  have  slowly  become  different 
in  mind  and  character  and  disposition.  That  cleavage,  therefore, 
which  began  in  the  merely  physical  region  is  now  seen  to  extend 
into  the  psychical  realm,  and  ends  by  supplying  the  world  with 

1  Havelock  Ellis,  Man  and  Woman,  p.  2. 


624  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

two  great  and  forever  separate  types.  No  efforts,  or  explanations, 
or  expostulations  can  ever  break  down  that  distinction  between 
maleness  and  femaleness,  or  make  it  possible  to  believe  that  they 
were  not  destined  from  the  first  of  time  to  play  a  different  part  in 
human  history.  Male  and  female  never  have  been  and  never  will 
be  the  same.  They  are  different  in  origin ;  they  have  traveled 
to  their  destinations  by  different  routes ;  they  have  had  different 
ends  in  view.  The  result  is,  that  they  are  different,  and  the  con- 
tribution, therefore,  of  each  to  the  evolution  of  the  human  race  is 
special  and  unique.  By  and  by  it  will  be  our  duty  to  mark  what 
man,  in  virtue  of  his  peculiar  gift,  has  done  for  the  world  ;  part 
indeed  of  his  contribution  has  been  already  recorded  here.  To 
him  has  been  mainly  assigned  the  fulfillment  of  the  first  great 
function,  —  the  struggle  for  life.  Woman,  whose  higher  contri- 
bution has  not  yet  been  named,  is  the  chosen  instrument  for 
carrying  on  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others.  Man's  life,  on 
the  whole,  is  determined  chiefly  by  the  function  of  nutrition ; 
woman's,  by  the  function  of  reproduction.  Man  satisfies  the  one 
by  going  out  into  the  world,  and  in  the  rivalries  of  war  and  the 
ardors  of  the  chase,  in  conflict  with  nature,  and  amid  the  stress 
of  industrial  pursuits,  fulfilling  the  law  of  self-preservation ; 
woman  completes  her  destiny  by  occupying  herself  with  the 
industries  and  sanctities  of  the  home,  and  paying  the  debt  of 
motherhood  to  her  race. 

Now  out  of  this  initial  difference  —  so  slight  at  first  as  to 
amount  to  no  more  than  a  scarcely  perceptible  bias  —  have 
sprung  the  most  momentous  issues.  For  by  every  detail  of  their 
separate  careers  the  two  original  tendencies  —  to  outward  activity 
in  the  man ;  to  inward  activity,  miscalled  passivity,  in  the  woman 
—  became  accentuated  as  time  went  on.  The  one  life  tended 
towards  selfishness,  the  other  towards  unselfishness.  While  one 
kept  individualism  alive,  the  other  kept  altruism  alive.  Blended 
in  the  children,  these  two  master  principles  from  this  their 
starting  point  acted  and  reacted  all  through  history,  seeking 
that  mean  in  which  true  life  lies.  Thus,  by  a  division  of  labor 
appointed  by  the  will  of  nature,  the  conditions  for  the  ascent  of 
man  were  laid. 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     625 

But  by  far  the  most  vital  point  remains.  For  we  have  next  to 
observe  how  this  bears  directly  on  the  theme  we  set  out  to  ex- 
plore, —  the  evolution  of  love.  The  passage  from  mere  otherism, 
in  the  physiological  sense,  to  altruism  in  the  moral  sense,  occurs 
in  connection  with  the  due  performance  of  her  natural  task  by  her 
to  whom  the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others  is  assigned.  That  task, 
translated  into  one  great  word,  is  maternity,  which  is  nothing  but 
the  struggle  for  the  life  of  others  transfigured,  transferred  to  the 
moral  sphere.  Focused  in  a  single  human  being,  this  function, 
as  we  rise  in  history,  slowly  begins  to  be  accompanied  by  those 
heaven-born  psychical  states  which  transform  the  femaleness  of 
the  older  order  into  the  motherhood  of  the  new.  When  one  fol- 
lows maternity  out  of  the  depths  of  lower  nature,  and  beholds  it 
ripening  in  quality  as  it  reaches  the  human  sphere,  its  character, 
and  the  character  of  the  processes  by  which  it  is  evolved,  appear 
in  their  full  divinity.  For  of  what  is  maternity  the  mother  ?  Of 
children  ?  No ;  for  these  are  the  mere  vehicle  of  its  spiritual 
manifestation.  Of  affection  between  female  and  male  ?  No  ;  for 
that,  contrary  to  accepted  beliefs,  has  little  to  do  in  the  first 
instance  with  sex  relations.  Of  what,  then?  Of  love  itself,  of 
love  as  love,  of  love  as  life,  of  love  as  humanity,  of  love  as  the 
pure  and  undefiled  fountain  of  all  that  is  eternal  in  the  world. 
In  the  long  stillness  which  follows  the  crisis  of  maternity,  wit- 
nessed only  by  the  new  and  helpless  life  which  is  at  once  the 
last  expression  of  the  older  function  and  the  unconscious  vehicle 
of  the  new,  humanity  is  born.  By  an  alchemy  which  remains, 
and  must  ever  remain,  the  secret  of  nature,  the  physiological 
forces  give  place  to  those  higher  principles  of  sympathy,  solici- 
tude, and  affection  which  from  this  time  onwards  are  to  change 
the  course  of  evolution  and  determine  a  diviner  destiny  for  a 
human  race : 

Earth's  insufficiency 

Here  grows  to  event ; 

The  indescribable 

Here  it  is  done  ; 

The  woman- soul  leadeth  us 

Upward  and  on. 


626  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

So  stupendous  is  this  transition  that  the  mere  possibility 
staggers  us.  Separated  by  the  whole  diameter  of  conscious  in- 
telligence and  will,  what  possible  affinities  can  exist  between 
the  reproductive  and  the  altruistic  process  ?  What  analogy  can 
ever  exist  between  the  earlier  physiological  struggle  for  the  life 
of  others  and  the  later  struggle  of  love  ?  Yet,  different  though 
their  accompaniments  may  be,  when  closely  examined  they  are 
seen  at  every  essential  point  running  parallel  with  each  other. 
The  object  in  either  case  is  to  continue  the  life  of  the  species ; 
the  essence  of  both  is  self-sacrifice ;  the  first  manifestation  of 
the  sacrifice  is  to  make  provision  for  others  by  helping  them  to 
draw  the  first  few  breaths  of  life.  But  what  has  love  to  do  with 
species  ?  Can  altruism  have  reference  to  mere  life  ?  The  answer 
is,  that  in  its  first  beginnings  it  has  almost  nothing  to  do  with 
anything  else.  For  consider  the  situation.  Reproduction,  let  us 
suppose,  has  done  its  most  perfect  work  on  the  physiological 
plane :  the  result  is,  that  a  human  child  is  born  into  the  world. 
But  the  work  of  reproduction  being  to  struggle  for  the  life  of 
the  species,  its  task  is  only  complete  when  it  secures  that  the 
child,  representing  the  species,  shall  live.  If  the  child  dies,  repro- 
duction has  failed ;  the  species,  so  far  as  this  effort  is  concerned, 
comes  to  an  end.  Now  can  reproduction  as  a  merely  physio- 
logical function  complete  this  process  ?  It  cannot.  What  can  ? 
Only  the  mother's  care  and  love.  Without  these,  in  a  few  hours 
or  days,  the  new  life  must  perish  ;  the  earlier  achievement  of 
reproduction  is  in  vain.  Hence  there  comes  a  moment  when 
these  two  functions  meet,  when  they  act  as  complements  to  each 
other  ;  when  physiology  hands  over  its  unfinished  task  to  ethics  ; 
when  evolution  —  if  for  once  one  may  use  a  false  distinction  — 
depends  upon  the  "  moral  "  process  to  complete  the  work  the 
"cosmic  "  process  has  begun. 

At  what  precise  stage  of  the  ascent,  in  association  with  what 
class  of  animals,  otherism  began  to  shade  into  altruism  in  the 
ethical  sense  is  immaterial.  Whether  the  altruism  in  the  early 
stages  is  real  or  apparent,  profound  or  superficial,  voluntary 
or  automatic,  does  not  concern  us.  What  concerns  us  is  that 
the  altruism  is  there ;  that  the  day  came  when,  even  though  a 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     627 

rudiment,  it  was  a  reality ;  above  all,  that  the  arrangements  for 
introducing  and  perfecting  it  were  realities.  The  prototype,  for 
ages,  may  have  extended  only  to  form,  to  the  outward  relation  ; 
for  further  ages  no  more  altruism  may  have  existed  than  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  the  species.  But  to 
fix  the  eye  upon  it  at  that  remote  stage  and  assert  that  because 
it  was  apparently  then  automatic  it  must  therefore  have  been 
automatic  ever  after  is  to  forget  the  progressive  character  of 
evolution  as  well  as  to  ignore  facts.  While  many  of  the  apparent 
other-regarding  acts  among  animals  are  purely  selfish  and  purely 
automatic,  undoubtedly  there  are  instances  where  more  is  involved. 
Apart  from  their  own  offspring,  in  relation  to  which  there  may 
always  be  the  suspicion  of  automatism  ;  and  apart  from  domestic 
animals,  which  are  open  to  the  further  suspicion  of  having  been 
trained  to  it,  —  animals  act  spontaneously  towards  other  ani- 
mals ;  they  have  their  playmates ;  they  make  friendships  and  very 
attached  friendships.  Much  more,  indeed,  has  been  claimed  for 
them;  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  claim  even  this  much.  No  evolu- 
tionist would  expect  among  animals  —  domestic  animals  always 
excepted  —  any  considerable  development  of  altruism,  because 
the  physiological  and  psychical  conditions  which  directly  led  to  its 
development  in  man's  case  were  fulfilled  in  no  other  creature. 

Simple  as  seems  the  method  by  which  the  first  few  sparks  of 
love  were  nursed  into  flame  in  the  bosom  of  maternity,  the  de- 
tails of  the  evolution  are  so  intricate  as  to  require  a  chapter  to 
themselves.  But  the  emphasis  which  nature  puts  on  this  process 
may  be  judged  of  by  the  fact  that  one  half  the  human  race  had 
to  be  set  apart  to  sustain  and  perfect  it.  To  the  evolutionist 
who  discerns  the  true  proportions  of  the  forces  which  made  for 
the  ascent  of  man,  one  of  the  two  or  three  great  events  in  the 
natural  history  of  the  world  was  the  institution  of  sex.  It  is  here 
that  the  master  forces  which  were  to  dominate  the  latest  and 
highest  stages  of  the  process  start ;  here,  specialized  into  egoism 
and  altruism,  they  part ;  and  here,  each  having  run  its  different 
course,  they  meet  to  distribute  their  gains  to  a  succeeding  race. 
With  the  initial  impulses  of  their  sex  strengthened  by  the  dif- 
ferent life  routine  to  which  each  led,  these  two  forces  ran  their 


628  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

course  through  history,  determining  by  their  ceaseless  reactions 
the  order  and  progress  of  the  world,  or,  when  wrongly  balanced, 
its  disorder  and  decay.  According  to  evolutional  philosophy 
there  are  three  great  marks  or  necessities  of  all  true  develop- 
ment, —  aggregation,  or  the  massing  of  things ;  differentiation, 
or  the  varying  of  things ;  and  integration,  or  the  reuniting  of 
things  into  higher  wholes.  All  these  processes  are  brought 
about  by  sex  more  perfectly  than  by  any  other  factor  known. 
From  a  careful  study  of  this  one  phenomenon,  science  could 
almost  decide  that  progress  was  the  object  of  nature,  and  that 
altruism  was  the  object  of  progress. 

This  vital  relation  between  altruism  in  its  early  stages  and 
physiological  ends  neither  implies  that  it  is  to  be  limited  by 
these  ends  nor  defined  in  terms  of  them.  Everything  must 
begin  somewhere.  And  there  is  no  aphorism  which  the  labors 
of  evolution,  at  each  fresh  beginning,  have  tended  more  consist- 
ently to  indorse  than  "first  that  which  is  natural,  then  that 
which  is  spiritual."  How  this  great  saying  also  disposes  of  the 
difficulty,  which  appears  and  reappears  with  every  forward  step 
in  evolution,  as  to  the  qualitative  terms  in  which  higher  develop- 
ments are  to  be  judged,  is  plain.  Because  the  spiritual  to  our 
vision  emerges  from  the  natural,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  is 
conveyed  upwards  by  the  natural  for  the  first  stretches  of  its 
ascent,  it  is  not  necessarily  contained  in  that  natural,  nor  is  it  to 
be  defined  in  terms  of  it.  What  comes  "  first "  is  not  the  crite- 
rion of  what  comes  last.  Few  things  are  more  forgotten  in  criti- 
cism of  evolution  than  that  the  nature  of  a  thing  is  not  dependent 
on  its  origin,  that  one's  whole  view  of  a  long,  growing,  and  cul- 
minating process  is  not  to  be  governed  by  the  first  sight  the 
microscope  can  catch  of  it.  The  processes  of  evolution  evolve  as 
well  as  the  products,  —  evolve  with  the  products.  In  the  environ- 
ments they  help  to  create,  or  to  make  available,  they  find  a  field 
for  new  creations  as  well  as  further  reinforcements  for  them- 
selves. With  the  creation  of  human  children  altruism  found  an 
area  for  its  own  expansion  such  as  had  never  before  existed  in 
the  world.  In  this  new  soil  it  grew  from  more  to  more,  and 
reached  a  potentiality  which  enabled  it  to  burst  the  trammels  of 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  LIFE  OF  OTHERS     629 

physical  conditions,  and  overflow  the  world  as  a  moral  force. 
The  mere  fact  that  the  first  uses  of  love  were  physical  shows 
how  perfectly  this  process  bears  the  stamp  of  evolution.  The 
latter  function  is  seen  to  relieve  the  earlier  at  the  moment  when 
it  would  break  down  without  it,  and  continue  the  ascent  without 
a  pause. 

If  it  be  hinted  that  nature  has  succeeded  in  continuing  the 
ascent  of  life  in  animals  without  any  reenforcement  from  psychi- 
cal principles,  the  first  answer  is,  that  owing  to  physiological 
conditions  this  would  not  have  been  possible  in  the  case  of  man. 
But  even  among  animals  it  is  not  true  that  reproduction  com- 
pletes its  work  apart  from  higher  principles,  for  even  there,  there 
are  accompaniments,  continually  increasing  in  definiteness,  which 
at  least  represent  the  instincts  and  emotions  of  man.  It  is  no 
doubt  true  that  in  animals  the  affections  are  less  voluntarily 
directed  than  in  the  case  of  a  human  mother.  But  in  either 
case  they  must  have  been  involuntary  at  first.  It  can  only  have 
been  at  a  late  stage  in  evolution  that  nature  could  trust  even 
her  highest  product  to  carry  on  the  process  by  herself.  Before 
altruism  was  strong  enough  to  take  its  own  initiative,  necessity 
had  to  be  laid  upon  all  mothers,  animal  and  human,  to  act  in  the 
way  required.  In  part  physiological,  this  necessity  was  brought 
about  under  the  ordinary  action  of  that  principle  which  had  to 
take  charge  of  everything  in  nature  until  the  will  of  man  ap- 
peared, —  natural  selection.  A  mother  who  did  not  care  for  her 
children  would  have  feeble  and  sickly  children.  Their  children's 
children  would  be  feeble  and  sickly  children.1  And  the  day  of 
reckoning  would  come  when  they  would  be  driven  off  the  field 
by  a  hardier,  that  is  a  better  mothered,  race.  Hence  the  premium 
of  nature  upon  better  mothers.  Hence  the  elimination  of  all  the 
reproductive  failures,  of  all  the  mothers  who  fell  short  of  com- 
pleting the  process  to  the  last  detail.  And  hence,  by  the  law  of 
the  survival  of  the  fittest,  altruism,  which  at  this  stage  means 
good  motherism,  is  forced  upon  the  world. 

This  consummation  reached,  the  foundations  of  the  human 
world  are  finished.  Nothing  foreign  remains  to  be  added.  All 

1  This  seems  contrary  to  the  views  of  Weismann. 


630  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

that  need  happen  henceforth  is  that  the  struggle  for  the  life  of 
others  should  work  out  its  destiny.  To  follow  out  the  gains  of 
reproduction  from  this  point  would  be  to  write  the  story  of  the 
nations,  the  history  of  civilization,  the  progress  of  social  evolu- 
tion. The  key  to  all  these  processes  is  here.  There  is  no  in- 
telligible account  of  the  world  which  is  not  founded  on  the  real- 
ization of  the  place  of  this  factor  in  development.  Sociology, 
practically,  can  only  beat  the  air,  can  make  no  step  forward  as  a 
science,  until  it  recognizes  this  basis  in  biology.  It  is  the  failure 
not  so  much  to  recognize  the  supremacy  of  this  second  factor, 
but  to  see  that  there  is  any  second  factor  at  all,  that  has  vitiated 
almost  every  attempt  to  construct  a  symmetrical  social  philos- 
ophy. It  has  long,  indeed,  been  perceived  that  society  is  an 
organism,  and  an  organism  which  has  grown  by  natural  growth 
like  a  tree.  But  the  tree  to  which  it  is  usually  likened  is  such 
a  tree  as  never  grew  on  this  earth.  For  it  is  a  tree  without 
flowers ;  a  tree  with  nothing  but  a  stem  and  leaves  ;  a  tree  that 
performed  the  function  of  nutrition,  and  forgot  all  about  repro- 
duction. The  great  unrecognized  truth  of  social  science  is  that 
the  social  organism  has  grown  and  flowered  and  fruited  in  virtue 
of  the  continuous  activities  and  interrelations  of  the  two  co- 
related  functions  of  nutrition  and  reproduction;  that  these  two 
dominants  being  at  work,  it  could  not  but  grow,  and  grow  in  the 
way  it  has  grown.  When  the  dual  nature  of  the  evolving  forces 
is  perceived  ;  when  their  reactions  upon  one  another  are  under- 
stood I  when  the  changed  material  with  which  they  have  to  work 
from  time  to  time,  the  further  obstacles  confronting  them  at 
every  stage,  the  new  environments  which  modify  their  action  as 
the  centuries  add  their  growths  and  disencumber  them  of  their 
withered  leaves,  —  when  all  this  is  observed,  the  whole  social 
order  falls  into  line.  From  the  dawn  of  life  these  two  forces 
have  acted  together,  one  continually  separating,  the  other  con- 
tinually uniting ;  one  continually  looking  to  its  own  things,  the 
other  to  the  things  of  others.  Both  are  great  in  nature, — but 
"  the  greatest  of  these  is  love." 


XXV 

INFLUENCES  THAT  AFFECT  THE  NATURAL 
ABILITY  OF  NATIONS1 

It  seems  to  me  most  essential  to  the  well-being  of  future 
generations  that  the  average  standard  of  ability  of  the  present 
time  should  be  raised.  Civilization  is  a  new  condition  imposed 
upon  man  by  the  course  of  events,  just  as  in  the  history  of 
geological  changes  new  conditions  have  continually  been  imposed 
on  different  races  of  animals.  They  have  had  the  effect  either 
of  modifying  the  nature  of  the  races  through  the  process  of 
natural  selection  whenever  the  changes  were  sufficiently  slow 
and  the  race  sufficiently  pliant,  or  of  destroying  them  altogether 
when  the  changes  were  too  abrupt  or  the  race  unyielding.  The 
number  of  the  races  of  mankind  that  have  been  entirely  de- 
stroyed under  the  pressure  of  the  requirements  of  an  incoming 
civilization  reads  us  a  terrible  lesson.  Probably  in  no  former 
period  of  the  world  has  the  destruction  of  the  races  of  any 
animal  whatever  been  effected  over  such  wide  areas  and  with 
such  startling  rapidity  as  in  the  case  of  savage  man.  In  the 
North  American  continent,  in  the  West  Indian  Islands,  in  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  in  Australia,  New  Zealand,  and  Van  Die- 
men's  Land,  the  human  denizens  of  vast  regions  have  been 
entirely  swept  away  in  the  short  space  of  three  centuries,  less 
by  the  pressure  of  a  stronger  race  than  through  the  influence 
of  a  civilization  they  were  incapable  of  supporting.  And  we, 
too,  the  foremost  laborers  in  creating  this  civilization,  are 
beginning  to  show  ourselves  incapable  of  keeping  pace  with  our 
own  work.  The  needs  of  centralization,  communication,  and 
culture  call  for  more  brains  and  mental  stamina  than  the  aver- 
age of  our  race  possess.  We  are  in  crying  want  for  a  greater 
fund  of  ability  in  all  stations  of  life ;  for  neither  the  classes  of 

1  From  Hereditary  Genius,  by  Francis  Gallon,  pp.  332-348,  Macmillan  &  Co., 
New  York,  1892. 


632  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

statesmen,  philosophers,  artisans,  nor  laborers  are  up  to  the 
modern  complexity  of  their  several  professions.  An  extended 
civilization  like  ours  comprises  more  interests  than  the  ordinary 
statesmen  or  philosophers  of  our  present  race  are  capable  of 
dealing  with,  and  it  exacts  more  intelligent  work  than  our  ordi- 
nary artisans  and  laborers  are  capable  of  performing.  Our  race 
is  overweighted,  and  appears  likely  to  be  drudged  into  degen- 
eracy by  demands  that  exceed  its  powers.  If  its  average  ability 
were  raised  a  grade  or  two,  our  new  classes  F  and  G  would 
conduct  the  complex  affairs  of  the  state  at  home  and  abroad 
as  easily  as  our  present  F  and  G,  when  in  the  position  of  coun- 
try squires,  are  able  to  manage  the  affairs  of  their  establish- 
ments and  tenantry.  All  other  classes  of  the  community  would 
be  similarly  promoted  to  the  level  of  the  work  required  by  the 
nineteenth  century,  if  the  average  standard  of  the  race  were 
raised. 

When  the  severity  of  the  struggle  for  existence  is  not  too 
great  for  the  powers  of  the  race,  its  action  is  healthy  and  con- 
servative, otherwise  it  is  deadly,  just  as  we  may  see  exempli- 
fied in  the  scanty,  wretched  vegetation  that  leads  a  precarious 
existence  near  the  summer  snow  line  of  the  Alps,  and  disap- 
pears altogether  a  little  higher  up.  We  want  as  much  backbone 
as  we  can  get,  to  bear  the  racket  to  which  we  are  henceforth  to 
be  exposed,  and  as  good  brains  as  possible  to  contrive  machinery, 
for  modern  life  to  work  more  smoothly  than  at  present.  We 
can,  in  some  degree,  raise  the  nature  of  a  man  to  a  level  with 
the  new  conditions  imposed  upon  his  existence,  and  we  can 
also,  in  some  degree,  modify  the  conditions  to  suit  his  nature. 
It  is  clearly  right  that  both  these  powers  should  be  exerted, 
with  the  view  of  bringing  his  nature  and  the  conditions  of  his 
existence  into  as  close  harmony  as  possible. 

In  proportion  as  the  world  becomes  filled  with  mankind,  the 
relations  of  society  necessarily  increase  in  complexity,  and  the 
nomadic  disposition  found  in  most  barbarians  becomes  unsuit- 
able to  the  novel  conditions.  There  is  a  most  unusual  unanimity 
in  respect  to  the  causes  of  incapacity  of  savages  for  civilization, 
among  writers  on  those  hunting  and  migratory  nations  which  are 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     633 

brought  into  contact  with  advancing  colonization,  and  perish, 
as  they  invariably  do,  by  the  contact.  They  tell  us  that  the 
labor  of  such  men  is  neither  constant  nor  steady ;  that  the  love 
of  a  wandering,  independent  life  prevents  their  settling  any- 
where to  work,  except  for  a  short  time,  when  urged  by  want  and 
encouraged  by  kind  treatment.  Meadows  says  that  the  Chinese 
call  the  barbarous  races  on  their  borders  by  a  phrase  which 
means  "  hither  and  thither,  not  fixed."  And  any  amount  of 
evidence  might  be  adduced  to  show  how  deeply  Bohemian  habits 
of  one  kind  or  another  were  ingrained  in  the  nature  of  the  men 
who  inhabited  most  parts  of  the  earth  now  overspread  by  the 
Anglo-Saxon  and  other  civilized  races.  Luckily  there  is  still 
room  for  adventure,  and  a  man  who  feels  the  cravings  of  a  rov- 
ing, adventurous  spirit  to  be  too  strong  for  resistance  may  yet 
find  a  legitimate  outlet  for  it  in  the  colonies,  in  the  army,  or  on 
board  ship.  But  such  a  spirit  is,  on  the  whole,  an  heirloom  that 
brings  more  impatient  restlessness  and  beating  of  the  wings 
against  cage  bars  than  persons  of  more  civilized  characters  can 
readily  comprehend,  and  it  is  directly  at  war  with  the  more 
modern  portion  of  our  moral  natures.  If  a  man  be  purely  a 
nomad,  he  has  only  to  be  nomadic,  and  his  instinct  is  satisfied ; 
but  no  Englishmen  of  the  nineteenth  century  are  purely  no- 
madic. The  most  so  among  them  have  also  inherited  many  civi- 
lized cravings  that  are  necessarily  starved  when  they  become 
wanderers,  in  the  same  way  as  the  wandering  instincts  are 
starved  when  they  are  settled  at  home.  Consequently  their 
nature  has  opposite  wants,  which  can  never  be  satisfied  except 
by  chance,  through  some  very  exceptional  turn  of  circumstances. 
This  is  a  serious  calamity,  and  as  the  Bohemianism  in  the  nature 
of  our  race  is  destined  to  perish,  the  sooner  it  goes  the  hap- 
pier for  mankind.  The  social  requirements  of  English  life  are 
steadily  destroying  it.  No  man  who  only  works  by  fits  and  starts 
is  able  to  obtain  his  living  nowadays ;  for  he  has  not  a  chance 
of  thriving  in  competition  with  steady  workmen.  If  his  nature 
revolts  against  the  monotony  of  daily  labor,  he  is  tempted  to 
the  public  house,  to  intemperance,  and,  it  may  be,  to  poaching, 
and  to  much  more  serious  crime ;  otherwise  he  banishes  himself 


634  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

from  our  shores.  In  the  first  case,  he  is  unlikely  to  leave  as 
many  children  as  men  of  more  domestic  and  marrying  habits, 
and,  in  the  second  case,  his  breed  is  wholly  lost  to  England. 
By  this  steady  riddance  of  the  Bohemian  spirit  of  our  race,  the 
artisan  part  of  our  population  is  slowly  becoming  bred  to  its 
duties,  and  the  primary  qualities  of  the  typical  modern  British 
workman  are  already  the  very  opposite  of  those  of  the  nomad. 
What  they  are  now  was  well  described  by  Mr.  Chadwick  as 
consisting  of  "  great  bodily  strength,  applied  under  the  com- 
mand of  a  steady,  persevering  will,  mental  self-contentedness, 
impassibility  to  external  irrelevant  impressions,  which  carries 
them  through  the  continued  repetition  of  toilsome  labor,  '  steady 
as  time.' ' 

It  is  curious  to  remark  how  unimportant  to  modern  civiliza- 
tion has  become  the  once  famous  and  thoroughbred  looking 
Norman.  The  type  of  his  features,  which  is,  probably,  in  some 
degree  correlated  with  his  peculiar  form  of  adventurous  disposi- 
tion, is  no  longer  characteristic  of  our  rulers,  and  is  rarely  found 
among  celebrities  of  the  present  day ;  it  is  more  often  met  with 
among  the  undistinguished  members  of  highly  born  families, 
and  especially  among  the  less 'conspicuous  officers  of  the  army. 
Modern  leading  men  in  all  paths  of  eminence,  as  may  easily  be 
seen  in  a  collection  of  photographs,  are  of  a  coarser  and  more 
robust  breed ;  less  excitable  and  dashing,  but  endowed  with  far 
more  ruggedness  and  real  vigor.  Such  also  is  the  case  as  regards 
the  German  portion  of  the  Austrian  nation ;  they  are  far  more 
high  caste  in  appearance  than  the  Prussians,  who  are  so  plain 
that  it  is  disagreeable  to  travel  northwards  from  Vienna  and 
watch  the  change ;  yet  the  Prussians  appear  possessed  of  the 
greater  moral  and  physical  stamina. 

Much  more  alien  to  the  genius  of  an  enlightened  civilization 
than  the  nomadic  habit  is  the  impulsive  and  uncontrolled  nature 
of  the  savage.  A  civilized  man  must  bear  and  forbear ;  he 
must  keep  before  his  mind  the  claims  of  the  morrow  as  clearly 
as  those  of  the  passing  minute ;  of  the  absent,  as  well  as  of  the 
present.  This  is  the  most  trying  of  the  new  conditions  imposed 
on  man  by  civilization,  and  the  one  that  makes  it  hopeless  for 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     635 

any  but  exceptional  natures  among  savages  to  live  under  them. 
The  instinct  of  a  savage  is  admirably  consonant  with  the  needs 
of  savage  life ;  every  day  he  is  in  danger  through  transient 
causes  ;  he  lives  from  hand  to  mouth,  in  the  hour  and  for  the 
hour,  without  care  for  the  past  or  forethought  for  the  future ; 
but  such  an  instinct  is  utterly  at  fault  in  civilized  life.  The 
half-reclaimed  savage,  being  unable  to  deal  with  more  subjects 
of  consideration  than  are  directly  before  him,  is  continually 
doing  acts  through  mere  maladroitness  and  incapacity,  at  which 
he  is  afterwards  deeply  grieved  and  annoyed.  The  nearer  in- 
ducements always  seem  to  him,  through  his  uncorrected  sense 
of  moral  perspective,  to  be  incomparably  larger  than  others  of 
the  same  actual  size,  but  more  remote ;  consequently,  when  the 
temptation  of  the  moment  has  been  yielded  to  and  passed  away, 
and  its  bitter  result  comes  in  its  turn  before  the  man,  he  is 
amazed  and  remorseful  at  his  past  weakness.  It  seems  incredi- 
ble that  he  should  have  done  that  yesterday  which  to-day  seems 
so  silly,  so  unjust,  and  so  unkind.  The  newly  reclaimed  bar- 
barian, with  the  impulsive,  unstable  nature  of  the  savage,  when 
he  also  chances  to  be  gifted  with  a  peculiarly  generous  and 
affectionate  disposition,  is  of  all  others  the  man  most  oppressed 
with  the  sense  of  sin. 

Now  it  is  a  just  assertion,  and  a  common  theme  of  moralists 
of  many  creeds,  that  man,  such  as  we  find  him,  is  born  with  an 
imperfect  nature.  He  has  lofty  aspirations,  but  there  is  a  weak- 
ness in  his  disposition  which  incapacitates  him  from  carrying 
his  nobler  purposes  into  effect.  He  sees  that  some  particular 
course  of  action  is  his  duty  and  should  be  his  delight ;  but  his 
inclinations  are  fickle  and  base,  and  do  not  conform  to  his  bet- 
ter judgment.  The  whole  moral  nature  of  man  is  tainted  with 
sin,  which  prevents  him  from  doing  the  things  he  knows  to  be 
right. 

The  explanation  I  offer  of  this  apparent  anomaly  seems  per- 
fectly satisfactory  from  a  scientific  point  of  view.  It  is  neither 
more  nor  less  than  that  the  development  of  our  nature,  whether 
under  Darwin's  law  of  natural  selection,  or  through  the  effects 
of  changed  ancestral  habits,  has  not  kept  pace  with  the 


636  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

development  of  our  moral  civilization.  Man  was  barbarous  but 
yesterday,  and  therefore  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  the  natural 
aptitudes  of  his  race  should  already  have  become  molded  into 
accordance  with  his  very  recent  advance.  We,  men  of  the  pres- 
ent centuries,  are  like  animals  suddenly  transplanted  among 
new  conditions  of  climate  and  of  food  :  our  instincts  fail  us 
under  the  altered  circumstances. 

My  theory  is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  the  members  of  old 
civilizations  are  far  less  sensible  than  recent  converts  from  bar- 
barism of  their  nature  being  inadequate  to  their  moral  needs. 
The  conscience  of  a  negro  is  aghast  at  his  own  wild,  impulsive 
nature,  and  is  easily  stirred  by  a  preacher,  but  it  is  scarcely  pos- 
sible to  ruffle  the  self-complacency  of  a  steady-going  Chinaman. 

The  sense  of  original  sin  would  show,  according  to  my  theory, 
not  that  man  was  fallen  from  a  high  estate,  but  that  he  was  ris- 
ing in  moral  culture  with  more  rapidity  than  the  nature  of  his 
race  could  follow.  My  view  is  corroborated  by  the  conclusion 
reached  at  the  end  of  each  of  the  many  independent  lines  of 
ethnological  research,  —  that  the  human  race  were  utter  savages 
in  the  beginning ;  and  that,  after  myriads  of  years  of  barbarism, 
man  has  but  very  recently  found  his  way  into  the  paths  of 
morality  and  civilization. 

Before  speaking  of  the  influences  which  affect  the  natural 
ability  and  intelligence  of  nations  and  races,  I  must  beg  the 
reader  to  bring  distinctly  before  his  mind  how  reasonable  it  is 
that  such  influences  should  be  expected  to  exist.  How  conso- 
nant it  is  to  all  analogy  and  experience  to  expect  that  the  con- 
trol of  the  nature  of  future  generations  should  be  as  much 
within  the  power  of  the  living  as  the  health  and  well-being  of 
the  individual  is  in  the  power  of  the  guardians  of  his  youth. 

We  are  exceedingly  ignorant  of  the  reasons  why  we  exist, 
confident  only  that  individual  life  is  a  portion  of  some  vaster 
system  that  struggles  arduously  onwards  towards  ends  that  are 
dimly  seen  or  wholly  unknown  to  us,  by  means  of  the  various 
affinities  —  the  sentiments,  the  intelligences,  the  tastes,  the  appe- 
tites— of  innumerable  personalities  who  ceaselessly  succeed  one 
another  on  the  stage  of  existence. 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     637 

There  is  nothing  that  appears  to  assign  a  more  exceptional 
or  sacred  character  to  a  race  than  to  the  families  or  individuals 
that  compose  it.  We  know  how  careless  nature  is  of  the  lives 
of  individuals ;  we  have  seen  how  careless  she  is  of  eminent 
families,  —  how  they  are  built  up,  flourish,  and  decay  :  just  the 
same  may  be  said  of  races,  and  of  the  world  itself ;  also,  by 
analogy,  of  other  scenes  of  existence  than  this  particular  planet 
of  one  of  innumerable  suns.  Our  world  appears  hitherto  to  have 
developed  itself,  mainly,  under  the  influence  of  unreasoning 
affinities ;  but  of  late,  man,  slowly  growing  to  be  intelligent, 
humane,  and  capable,  has  appeared  on  the  scene  of  life  and  pro- 
foundly modified  its  conditions.  He  has  already  become  able  to 
look  after  his  own  interests  in  an  incomparably  more  far-sighted 
manner  than  in  the  old  prehistoric  days  of  barbarism  and  flint 
knives ;  he  is  already  able  to  act  on  the  experiences  of  the  past, 
to  combine  closely  with  distant  allies,  and  to  prepare  for  future 
wants,  known  only  through  the  intelligence,  long  before  their 
pressure  has  become  felt.  He  has  introduced  a  vast  deal  of 
civilization  and  hygiene  which  influence,  .in  an  immense  degree, 
his  own  well-being  and  that  of  his  children ;  it  remains  for  him 
to  bring  other  policies  into  action  that  shall  tell  on  the  natural 
gifts  of  his  race. 

It  would  be  writing  to  no  practically  useful  purpose,  were  I 
to  discuss  the  effect  that  might  be  produced  on  the  population 
by  such  social  arrangements  as  existed  in  Sparta.  They  are  so 
alien  and  repulsive  to  modern  feelings  that  it  is  useless  to  say 
anything  about  them,  so  I  shall  wholly  confine  my  remarks  to 
agencies  that  are  actually  at  work,  and  upon  which  there  can  be 
no  hesitation  in  speaking. 

I  shall  have  occasion  to  show  that  certain  influences  retard 
the  average  age  of  marriage,  while  others  hasten  it ;  and  the 
general  character  of  my  argument  will  be  to  prove  that  an 
enormous  effect  upon  the  average  natural  ability  of  a  race  may 
be  produced  by  means  of  those  influences.  I  shall  argue  that 
the  wisest  policy  is  that  which  results  in  retarding  the  average 
age  of  marriage  among  the  weak,  and  in  hastening  it  among  the 
vigorous  classes  ;  whereas,  most  unhappily  for  us,  the  influence  of 


638  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

numerous  social  agencies  has  been  strongly  and  banefully  exerted 
in  the  precisely  opposite  direction. 

An  estimate  of  the  effect  of  the  average  age  of  marriage  on 
the  growth  of  any  section  of  a  nation  is  therefore  the  first  sub- 
ject that  requires  investigation.  Everybody  is  prepared  to  admit 
that  it  is  an  element,  sure  to  produce  some  sensible  effect,  but 
few  will  anticipate  its  real  magnitude,  or  will  be  disposed  to 
believe  that  its  results  have  so  vast  and  irresistible  an  influence 
on  the  natural  ability  of  a  race  as  I  shall  be  able  to  demonstrate. 

The  average  age  of  marriage  affects  population  in  a  three- 
fold manner.  Firstly,  those  who  marry  when  young  have  the 
larger  families  ;  secondly,  they  produce  more  generations  within 
a  given  period,  and  therefore  the  growth  of  a  prolific  race,  pro- 
gressing as  it  does,  "  geometrically,"  would  be  vastly  increased 
at  the  end  of  a  long  period  by  a  habit  of  early  marriages ;  and 
thirdly,  more  generations  are  alive  at  the  same  time  among 
those  races  who  marry  when  they  are  young. 

In  explanation  'of  the  aggregate  effect  of  these  three  influ- 
ences, it  will  be  best  to  take  two  examples  that  are  widely  but 
not  extremely  separated.  Suppose  two  men,  M  and  N,  about 
22  years  old,  each  of  them  having  therefore  the  expectation  of 
living  to  the  age  of  55,  or  33  years  longer ;  and  suppose  that  M 
marries  at  once,  and  that  his  descendants  when  they  arrive  at 
the  same  age  do  the  same ;  but  that  N  delays  until  he  has  laid 
by  money,  and  does  not  marry  before  he  is  33  years  old,  that  is 
to  say,  1 1  years  later  than  M,  and  his  descendants  also  follow  his 
example.  Let  us  further  make  the  two  very  moderate  supposi- 
tions, that  the  early  marriages  of  race  M  result  in  an  increase  of 
i^  in  the  next  generation,  and  also  in  the  production  of  3^  gen- 
erations in  a  century,  while  the  late  marriages  of  race  N  result 
in  an  increase  of  only  i^  in  the  next  generation,  and  in  2^-  gen- 
erations in  one  century. 

It  will  be  found  that  an  increase  of  i^  in  each  generation, 
accumulating  on  the  principle  of  compound  interest  during  3| 
generations,  becomes  rather  more  than  *-£-  times  the  original 
amount ;  while  an  increase  of  i^  for  2^  generations  is  barely  as 
much  as  |  times  the  original  amount.  Consequently  the  increase 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     639 


of  the  race  of  M  at  the  end  of  a  century  will  be  greater  than 
that  of  N  in  the  ratio  of  1 8  to  7 ;  that  is  to  say,  it  will  be 
rather  more  than  2\  times  as  great.  In  two  centuries  the  prog- 
eny of  M  will  be  more  than  6  times,  and  in  three  centuries 
more  than  15  times,  as  numerous  as  those  of  N. 

The  proportion  which  the  progeny  of  M  will  bear  at  any  time 
to  the  total  living  population  will  be  still  greater  than  this, 
owing  to*  the  number  of  generations  of  M  who  are  alive  at  the 
same  time  being  greater  than  those  of  N.  The  reader  will  not 
find  any  difficulty  in  estimating  the  effect  of  these  conditions, 
if  he  begins  by  ignoring  children  and  all  others  below  the  age 
of  22,  and  also  by  supposing  the  population  to  be  stationary  in 
its  number,  in  consecutive  generations.  We  have  agreed  in  the 
case  of  M  to  allow  3|  generations  to  one  century,  which  gives 
about  27  years  to  each  generation  ;  then,  when  one  of  this  race  is 
22  years  old,  his  father  will  (on  the  average  of  many  cases)  be  27 
years  older,  or  49 ;  and  as  the  father  lives  to  55,  he  will  survive 
the  advent  of  his  son  to  manhood  for  the  space  of  6  years. 
Consequently,  during  the  27  years  intervening  between  each 
two  generations,  there  will  be  found  one  mature  life  for  the 
whole  period  and  one  other  mature  life  during  a  period  of  6 
years,  which  gives  for  the  total  mature  life  of  the  race  M  a 
number  which  may  be  expressed  by  the  fraction  ^y^,  or  ||. 
The  diagram  represents  the  course  of  three  consecutive  genera- 
tions of  race  M  :  the  middle  line  refers  to  that  of  the  individual 
about  whom  I  have  just  been  speaking,  the  upper  one  to  that  of 
his  father,  and  the  lower  to  his  son.  The  dotted  line  indicates 
the  period  of  life  before  the  age  of  22  ;  the  double  line,  the 
period  between  22  and  the  average  time  at  which  his  son  is 
born ;  the  dark  line  is  the  remainder  of  his  life. 


A  term  of  27  years 
between  two  generations 


28 


640 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


On  the  other  hand,  a  man  of  the  race  N,  which  does  not  con- 
tribute more  than  2\  generations  to  a  century,  that  is  to  say, 
40  years  to  a  single  generation,  does  not  attain  the  age  of  22 
until  (on  the  average  of  many  cases)  7  years  after  his  father's 
death ;  for  the  father  was  40  years  old  when  his  son  was  born, 
and  died  at  the  age  of  55  when  the  son  was  only  15  years  old. 
In  other  words,  during  each  period  of  18  +  15  +  7,  or  40,  years 
men  of  mature  life  of  the  race  N  are  alive  for  only  1 8  •+  15,  or 
33  of  them;  hence  the  total  mature  life  of  the  race  N  may  be 
expressed  by  the  fraction  \\. 


18 


A  term  of  40  years 
between  two  generations 


1 8 


It  follows  that  the  relative  population  due  to  the  races  of  M 
and  N  is  as  ||  to  ||,  or  as  40  to  27,  which  is  very  nearly  as 
5  to  3.1 

We  have  been  calculating  on  the  supposition  that  the  popula- 
tion remains  stationary,  because  it  was  more  convenient  to  do 
so,  but  the  results  of  our  calculation  will  hold  nearly  true  for 
all  cases.  Because,  if  population  should  increase,  the  larger  num- 
ber of  living  descendants  tends  to  counterbalance  the  dimin- 
ished number  of  living  ancestry  ;  and  conversely,  if  it  decreases. 

Combining  the  above  ratio  of  5  to  3  with  those  previously 
obtained,  it  results  that  at  the  end  of  one  century  from  the  time 
when  the  races  M  and  N  started  fair,  with  equal  numbers,  the 
proportion  of  mature  men  of  race  M  will  be  four  times  as  nu- 
merous as  those  of  race  N  ;  at  the  end  of  two  centuries  they  will 
be  ten  times  as  numerous,  and  at  the  end  of  three  centuries  no 
less  than  twenty-six  times  as  numerous. 

1  A  little  consideration  of  the  diagram  will  show  that  the  proportion  in  ques- 
tion will  invariably  be  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  the  intervals  between  the  two  gener- 
ations, which  in  the  present  case  are  27  and  40  years. 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     641 

I  trust  the  reader  will  realize  the  heavy  doom  which  these 
figures  pronounce  against  all  subsections  of  prolific  races  in 
which  it  is  the  custom  to  put  off  the  period  of  marriage  until 
middle  age.  It  is  a  maxim  of  Malthus  that  the  period  of  mar- 
riage ought  to  be  delayed  in  order  that  the  earth  may  not  be 
overcrowded  by  a  population  for  whom  there  is  no  place  at  the 
great  table  of  nature.  If  this  doctrine  influenced  all  classes 
alike,  I  should  have  nothing  to  say  about  it  here,  one  way  or 
another,  for  it  would  hardly  affect  the  discussions  in  this  book 1 ; 
but,  as  it  is  put  forward  as  a  rule  of  conduct  for  the  prudent 
part  of  mankind  to  follow,  whilst  the  imprudent  are  necessarily 
left  free  to  disregard  it,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  it  is 
a  most  pernicious  rule  of  conduct  in  its  bearing  upon  race.  Its 
effect  would  be  such  as  to  cause  the  race  of  the  prudent  to  fall, 
after  a  few  centuries,  into  an  almost  incredible  inferiority  of 
numbers  to  that  of  the  imprudent,  and  it  is  therefore  calculated 
to  bring  utter  ruin  upon  the  breed  of  any  country  where  the  doc- 
trine prevailed.  I  protest  against  the  abler  races  being  encour- 
aged to  withdraw  in  this  way  from  the  struggle  for  existence. 
It  may  seem  monstrous  that  the  weak  should  be  crowded  out  by 
the  strong,  but  it  is  still  more  monstrous  that  the  races  best 
fitted  to  play  their  part  on  the  stage  of  life  should  be  crowded 
out  by  the  incompetent,  the  ailing,  and  the  desponding. 

The  time  may  .hereafter  arrive,  in  far  distant  years,  when  the 
population  of  the  earth  shall  be  kept  as  strictly  within  the 
bounds  of  number  and  suitability  of  race  as  the  sheep  on  a  well- 
ordered  moor  or  the  plants  in  an  orchard  house ;  in  the  mean- 
time, let  us  do  what  we  can  to  encourage  the  multiplication  of  the 
races  best  fitted  to  invent  and  conform  to  a  high  and  generous 
civilization,  and  not,  out  of  a  mistaken  instinct  of  giving  support 
to  the  weak,  prevent  the  incoming  of  strong  and  hearty  individuals. 

The  long  period  of  the  dark  ages  under  which  Europe  has 
lain  is  due,  I  believe,  in  a  very  considerable  degree,  to  the  celi- 
bacy enjoined  by  religious  orders  on  their  votaries.  Whenever 
a  man  or  woman  was  possessed  of  a  gentle  nature  that  fitted 
him  or  her  to  deeds  of  charity,  to  meditation,  to  literature,  or  to 
1  Gallon's  Hereditary  Genius. 


642  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

art,  the  social  condition  of  the  time  was  such  that  they  had  no 
refuge  elsewhere  than  in  the  bosom  of  the  church.  But  the 
church  chose  to  preach  and  exact  celibacy.  The  consequence 
was  that  these  gentle  natures  had  no  continuance,  and  thus,  by 
a  policy  so  singularly  unwise  and  suicidal  that  I  am  hardly  able 
to  speak  of  it  without  impatience,  the  church  brutalized  the 
breed  of  our  forefathers.  She  acted  precisely  as  if  she  had 
aimed  at  selecting  the  rudest  portion  of  the  community  to  be, 
alone,  the  parents  of  future  generations.  She  practiced  the  arts 
which  breeders  would  use  who  aimed  at  creating  ferocious, 
currish,  and  stupid  natures.  No  wonder  that  club  law  prevailed 
for  centuries  over  Europe ;  the  wonder  rather  is  that  enough 
good  remained  in  the  veins  of  Europeans  to  enable  their  race  to 
rise  to  its  present  very  moderate  level  of  natural  morality. 

A  relic  of  this  monastic  spirit  clings  to  our  universities  who 
say  to  eyery  man  who  shows  intellectual  powers  of  the  kind 
they  delight  to  honor,  "  Here  is  an  income  of  from  one  to  two 
hundred  pounds  a  year,  with  free  lodging  and  various  advan- 
tages in  the  way  of  board  and  society ;  we  give  it  you  on 
account  of  your  ability ;  take  it  and  enjoy  it  all  your  life  if  you 
like  :  we  exact  no  condition  to  your  continuing  to  hold  it  but 
one,  namely,  that  you  shall  not  marry. 

The  policy  of  the  religious  world  in  Europe  was  exerted  in 
another  direction,  with  hardly  less  cruel  effect  on  the  nature 
of  future  generations,  by  means  of  persecutions  which  brought 
thousands  of  the  foremost  thinkers  and  men  of  political  apti- 
tudes to  the  scaffold,  or  imprisoned  them  during  a  large  part  of 
their  manhood,  or  drove  them  as  emigrants  into  other  lands.  In 
every  one  of  these  cases  the  check  upon  their  leaving  issue 
was  very  considerable.  Hence  the  church,  having  first  captured 
all  the  gentle  natures  and  condemned  them  to  celibacy,  made 
another  sweep  of  her  huge  nets,  this  time  fishing  in  stirring 
waters,  to  catch  those  who  were  the  most  fearless,  truth-seeking, 
and  intelligent  in  their  modes  of  thought,  and  therefore  the 
most  suitable  parents  of  a  high  civilization,  and  put  a  strong 
check,  if  not  a  direct  stop,  to  their  progeny.  Those  she  reserved 
on  these  occasions,  to  breed  the  generations  of  the  future,  were 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     643 

the  servile,  the  indifferent,  and,  again,  the  stupid.  Thus,  as 
she  —  to  repeat  my  expression  —  brutalized  human  nature  by 
her  system  of  celibacy  applied  to  the  gentle,  she  demoralized  it 
by  her  system  of  persecution  of  the  intelligent,  the  sincere,  and 
the  free.  It  is  enough  to  make  the  blood  boil  to  think  of  the 
blind  folly  that  has  caused  the  foremost  nations  of  struggling 
humanity  to  be  the  heirs  of  such  hateful  ancestry,  and  that  has 
so  bred  our  instincts  as  to  keep  them  in  an  unnecessarily  long- 
continued  antagonism  with  the  essential  requirements  of  a  stead- 
ily advancing  civilization.  In  consequence  of  this  inbred  imper- 
fection of  our  natures,  in  respect  to  the  conditions  under  which 
we  have  to  live,  we  are,  even  now,  almost  as  much  harassed  by 
the  sense  of  moral  incapacity  and  sin  as  were  the  early  converts 
from  barbarism,  and  we  steep  ourselves  in  half-unconscious  self- 
deception  and  hypocrisy  as  a  partial  refuge  from  its  insistence. 
Our  avowed  creeds  remain  at  variance  with  our  real  rules  of 
conduct,  and  we  lead  a  dual  life  of  barren  religious  sentimental- 
ism  and  gross  materialistic  habitudes. 

The  extent  to  which  persecution  must  have  affected  European 
races  is  easily  measured  by  a  few  well-known  statistical  facts. 
Thus,  as  regards  martyrdom  and  imprisonment,  the  Spanish 
nation  was  drained  of  freethinkers  at  the  rate  of  1000  persons 
annually,  for  the  three  centuries  between  1471  and  1781  ;  an 
average  of  100  persons  having  been  excuted  and  900  imprisoned 
every  year  during  that  period.  The  actual  data  during  those 
three  hundred  years  are  32,000  burnt,  17,000  persons  burnt  in 
effigy  (I  presume  they  mostly  died  in  prison  or  escaped  from 
Spain),  and  291,000  condemned  to  various  terms  of  imprison- 
ment and  other  penalties.  It  is  impossible  that  any  nation  could 
stand  a  policy  like  this  without  paying  a  heavy  penalty  in 
the  deterioration  of  its  breed,  as  has  notably  been  the  result  in 
the  formation  of  the  superstitious,  unintelligent  Spanish  race 
of  the  present  day. 

Italy  was  also  frightfully  persecuted  at  an  earlier  date.  In 
the  diocese  of  Como,  alone,  more  than  1000  were  tried  annually 
by  the  inquisitors  for  many  years,  and  300  were  burnt  in  the 
single  year  1416. 


644  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  French  persecutions,  by  which  the  English  have  been 
large  gainers,  through  receiving  their  industrial  refugees,  were 
on  a  nearly  similar  scale.  In  the  seventeenth  century  three  or 
four  hundred  thousand  Protestants  perished  in  prison,  at  the 
galleys,  in  their  attempts  to  escape,  or  on  the  scaffold,  and  an 
equal  number  emigrated.  Mr.  Smiles,  in  his  admirable  book  on 
the  Huguenots,  has  traced  the  influence  of  these  and  of  the 
Flemish  emigrants  on  England,  and  shows  clearly  that  she  owes 
to  them  almost  all  her  industrial  arts  and  very  much  of  the  most 
valuable  lifeblood  of  her  modern  race.  There  has  been  another 
emigration  from  France  of  not  unequal  magnitude,  but  followed 
by  very  different  results,  namely,  that  of  the  Revolution  in  1789. 
It  is  most  instructive  to  contrast  the  effects  of  the  two.  The 
Protestant  emigrants  were  able  men,  and  have  profoundly  influ- 
enced for  good  both  our  breed  and  our  history ;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  political  refugees  had  but  poor  average  stamina,  and 
have  left  scarcely  any  traces  behind  them. 

It  is  very  remarkable  how  large  a  proportion  of  the  eminent 
men  of  all  countries  bear  foreign  names,  and  are  the  children  of 
political  refugees,  —  men  well  qualified  to  introduce  a  valuable 
strain  of  blood.  We  cannot  fail  to  reflect  on  the  glorious  destiny 
of  a  country  that  should  maintain,  during  many  generations,  the 
policy  of  attracting  eminently  desirable  refugees,  but  no  others, 
and  of  encouraging  their  settlement  and  the  naturalization  of 
their  children. 

No  nation  has  parted  with  more  emigrants  than  England,  but 
whether  she  has  hitherto  been  on  the  whole  a  gainer  or  a  loser 
by  the  practice,  I  am  not  sure.  No  doubt  she  has  lost  a  very 
large  number  of  families  of  sterling  worth,  especially  of  laborers 
and  artisans ;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  very  ablest  men  are  strongly 
disinclined  to  emigrate ;  they  feel  that  their  fortune  is  assured 
at  home,  and  unless  their  spirit  of  adventure  is  overwhelmingly 
strong,  they  prefer  to  live  in  the  high  intellectual  and  moral 
atmosphere  of  the  more  intelligent  circles  of  English  society,  to 
a  self-banishment  among  people  of  altogether  lower  grades  of 
mind  and  interests.  England  has  certainly  got  rid  of  a  great 
deal  of  refuse  through  means  of  emigration.  She  has  found  an 


INFLUENCES  AFFECTING  ABILITY  OF  NATIONS     645 

outlet  for  men  of  adventurous  and  Bohemian  natures,  who  are 
excellently  adapted  for  colonizing  a  new  country  but  are  not 
wanted  in  old  civilizations  ;  and  she  has  also  been  disembarrassed 
of  a  vast  number  of  turbulent  radicals  and  the  like,  —  men  who 
are  decidedly  able  but  by  no  means  eminent,  and  whose  zeal,  self- 
confidence,  and  irreverence  far  outbalance  their  other  qualities. 
The  rapid  rise  of  new  colonies  and  the  decay  of  old  civiliza- 
tions is,  I  believe,  mainly  due  to  their  respective  social  agencies, 
which  in  the  one  case  promote,  and  in  the  other  case  retard,  the 
marriages  of  the  most  suitable  breeds.  In  a  young  colony,  a 
strong  arm  and  an  enterprising  brain  are  the  most  appropriate 
fortune  for  a  marrying  man,  and  again,  as  the  women  are  few, 
the  inferior  males  are  seldom  likely  to  marry.  In  an  old  civ- 
ilization the  agencies  are  more  complex.  Among  the  active,  am- 
bitious classes  none  but  the  inheritors  of  fortune  are  likely  to 
marry  young  ;  there  is  especially  a  run  against  men  of  classes  C, 
D,  and  E,1  —  those,  I  mean,  whose  future  is  not  assured  except 
through  a  good  deal  of  self-denial  and  effort.  It  is  almost  impos- 
sible that  they  should  succeed  well  and  rise  high  in  society,  if 
they  hamper  themselves  with  a  wife  in  their  early  manhood. 
Men  of  classes  F  and  G  are  more  independent,  but  they  are 
not  nearly  so  numerous,  and  therefore  their  breed,  though  intrin- 
sically of  more  worth  than  E  or  D,  has  much  less  effect  on  the 
standard  of  the  nation  at  large.  But  even  if  men  of  classes 
F  and  G  marry  young,  and  ultimately  make  fortunes  and 
achieve  peerages  or  high  social  position,  they  become  infected 
with  the  ambition  current  in  all  old  civilizations  of  founding 
families.  Thence  result  the  evils  I  have  already  described,  in 
speaking  of  the  marriages  of  eldest  sons  with  heiresses  and  of 
the  suppression  of  the  marriages  of  the  younger  sons.  Again, 
there  is  a  constant  tendency  of  the  best  men  in  the  country 
to  settle  in  the  great  cities,  where  marriages  are  less  prolific 
and  children  are  less  likely  to  live.  Owing  to  these  several 
causes,  there  is  a  steady  check  in  an  old  civilization  upon  the 

1  In  an  earlier  chapter  Mr.  Gallon  graded  men  of  average  ability  or  higher, 
into  the  classes  A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F,  and  G,  A  being  the  average  men,  and  G 
the  geniuses.  —  ED. 


646  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

fertility  of  the  abler  classes ;  the  improvident  and  unambitious 
are  those  who  chiefly  keep  up  the  breed.  So  the  race  gradually 
deteriorates,  becoming  in  each  successive  generation  less  fitted 
for  a  high  civilization,  although  it  retains  the  external  appear- 
ances of  one,  until  the  time  comes  when  the  whole  political  and 
social  fabric  caves  in  and  a  greater  or  less  relapse  to  barbarism 
takes  place,  during  the  reign  of  which  the  race  is  perhaps  able 
to  recover  its  tone. 

The  best  form  of  civilization  in  respect  to  the  improvement 
of  the  race  would  be  one  in  which  society  was  not  costly  ;  where 
incomes  were  chiefly  derived  from  professional  sources,  and  not 
much  through  inheritance ;  where  every  lad  had  a  chance  of 
showing  his  abilities  and,  if  highly  gifted,  was  enabled  to  achieve 
a  first-class  education  and  entrance  into  professional  life,  by  the 
liberal  help  of  the  exhibitions  and  scholarships  which  he  had 
gained  in  his  early  youth ;  where  marriage  was  held  in  as  high 
honor  as  in  ancient  Jewish  times ;  where  the  pride  of  race  was 
encouraged  (of  course  I  do  not  refer  to  the  nonsensical  senti- 
ment of  the  present  day  that  goes  under  that  name) ;  where  the 
weak  could  find  a  welcome  and  a  refuge  in  celibate  monasteries 
or  sisterhoods,  and,  lastly,  where  the  better  sort  of  emigrants 
and  refugees  from  other  lands  were  invited  and  welcomed,  and 
their  descendants  naturalized. 


XXVI 

NATURAL  SELECTION  AND  SOCIAL  SELECTION1 

PREPONDERANCE  OF  SOCIAL  SELECTION 

Aristotle,  the  founder  of  political  science,  defined  man  as  "  the 
animal  which  lives  under  social  conditions."  These  conditions 
force  themselves  upon  man  so  peremptorily  that  solitary  life  im- 
plies a  very  serious  psychic  anomaly,  barring  the  special  cases 
which  produce  Robinson  Crusoes.  However  shy  a  savage  may  be, 
he  carries  with  him  a  rudimentary  society,  —  his  mate  and  his 
young ;  and  the  population  is  never  so  sparse  that  he  can  avoid 
meeting  other  groups  with  whom  he  must  have  relations  and 
exchange  courtesies  or  spear  cuts. 

His  situation,  then,  is  quite  different  from  that  of  the  common 
run  of  animals.  He  thinks ;  he  speaks ;  he  is  armed.  He  will 
never  pass  his  fellow  as  animals  do  without  looking  at  him.  His 
existence  will  all  of  it  be  dominated  by  social  relations,  rudimen- 
tary as  they  may  be,  and  natural  selection  ceases  to  exercise  the  • 
same  pressure  upon  him  as  upon  the  rest  of  the  animated  world. 
I  mean  that  it  is  transformed  into  social  selection,  in  proportion 
as  the  social  environment  surpasses  in  influence  the  environment 
of  nature. 

In  man,  social  selection  overrides  natural  selection.  This,  I 
believe,  is  the  oldest  principle  of  selectionism.  Wallace,  Darwin's 
rival,  rightly  maintained  in  entering  upon  the  then  new  and 
dreadful  question  of  the  origin  of  man  ("The  Origin  of  Human 
Races,"  Journal  of  the  Anthropological  Society,  1864,  p.  158)  that 
on  the  day  when  man's  brain  had  acquired  its  power,  natural 
selection  ceased  to  have  a  hold  on  him.  Broca,  in  his  critical. 

1  From  Les  Selections  Sociales,  by  G.  Vacher  de  Lapouge,  Paris,  Librairie 
Thorin  &  Fils  (A.  Fontemoing,  successeur),  1896,  chap,  vii  Translated  by  Steven 
T.  Byington. 

647 


648  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

report  on  Darwin's  Descent  of  Man  ("  Les  Selections,"  Revue 
d' Anthropologie^  1872,  pp.  705  et  seq.}  said  with  still  greater  accu- 
racy :  "  [Society]  .  .  .  cannot  exempt  man  from  the  ineluctable  law 
of  the  combat  of  life,  but  it  does  profoundly  modify  the  field  of 
battle.  It  substitutes  for  natural  selection  another  selection  in 
which  natural  selection  no  longer  plays  any  but  a  diminished 
(often  almost  obliterated)  part,  and  which  deserves  the  name  of 
social  selection."  This  sentence  is  memorable ;  it  is  the  first  in 
which  we  see  the  name  of  social  selection  appear. 

Moreover,  it  must  be  that  man  was  already  under  the  pressure 
of  this  selection  before  he  was  man,  if  one  may  so  speak  ;  for,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  evolution  must  have  been  so  slow,  so  gradual, 
that  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  draw  the  line  in  the  ascent. 
True  social  relations  exist  among  all  species  of  Primates,  and  it 
must  have  been  so  among  our  ancestors  when  they  were  still  in 
the  matrix  of  animality;  even  among  those  from  whom  we  are 
separated  by  series  of  successive  forms.  The  most  human  insti- 
tutions —  the  family,  government,  the  state,  property  —  are 
found  in  a  simple  and  frail  form  among  apes.  It  is  not  at  all 
probable  that  man  ever  passed  through  the  state  of  entire  inde- 
pendence and  absolute  individualism  assumed  by  philosophers. 
According  to  all  the  data  of  zoology,  the  first  man  was  born  of  a 
•female  that  had  her  male,  in  a  troop  that  had  its  chief,  on  land 
which  was  the  country  and  the  property  of  his  kin. 

To-day  the  social  state  dominates  even  the  most  savage  man ; 
it  removes  him  from  the  independence  of  animal  life  and  from 
its  consequences.  One  is  frightened  to  see  the  prodigious  com- 
plication of  social  usages  which  regulate  the  most  immaterial  act 
of  the  Fuegian  or  the  Australian.  The  wretched  Bushman,  the 
Mincopie,  are  as  much  the  slaves  of  rites  and  social  usages  as 
the  emperor  of  China.  If  one  looks  closely,  it  is  among  civilized 
men  that  a  relative  liberty  reigns,  and  that  each  depends  least  on 
his  neighbor  for  the  acts  of  his  private  life. 

By  the  aid  of  fire  and  clothing  man  exempts  himself  from  the 
action  of  cold  ;  in  his  huts  where  the  air  penetrates  he  escapes 
the  action  of  the  sun  ;  by  his  intelligence  he  provides  more  surely 
for  his  nourishment ;  by  his  weapons  he  is  victorious  in  conflict 


NATURAL  SELECTION  AND  SOCIAL  SELECTION    649 

with  other  animals,  he  makes  some  his  prey,  he  escapes  being 
the  prey  of  others.  Nay,  in  countries  entirely  civilized,  he  no 
longer  has  enemies  to  fear, — the  dangerous  animals  are  destroyed  ; 
he  no  longer  has  to  occupy  himself  in  seeking  food,  —  he  finds  it 
at  the  merchant's.  The  struggle  for  existence  is  now  only  with 
his  fellow :  Homo  homini  lupus.  It  is  carried  on  only  by  social 
acts  ;  it  is  none  the  less  hard  and  murderous  for  having  changed 
its  manner  and  its  name.1 


SELECTION  BY  CLIMATE  ;  BY  DIET 

Let  us  rapidly  go  over  the  restricted  domain,  growing  narrower 
and  narrower,  of  natural  selection.  All  that  touches  climate  and 
diet  we  already  know.  It  is  by  way  of  natural  selection,  not  of 
transformation  —  transmutation  —  that  races  are  modified  when 
carried  to  countries  whose  climate  is  new  to  them.  The  same 
selection  operates  in  extreme  climates  even  on  individuals  who 
have  for  long  generations  been  acclimated,  and  gives  a  charac- 
ter to  the  normal  mortality  in  each  country :  here  affections  of 
the  respiratory  channels,  there  of  the  liver.  The  mountaineer's 
abode  is  also  the  cause  of  a  selection  of  the  same  order ;  bacteria 
of  all  sorts  are  infinitely  rarer  in  water  flowing  from  springs,  and 
in  the  air  of  high  elevations.  This  is  a  point  of  bacteriology  too 
well  known  to  dwell  on.  So  mountaineers,  aside  from  race,  have 
more  chances  to  escape  from  bacterial  disorders  than  the  inhabit- 
ants of  plains,  and  especially  than  those  of  cities.  As  to  diet,  I 
have  dwelt  so  much  on  its  selective  influence  that  I  need  not 
return  to  it. 

It  is  well  to  note  that  these  selections  by  environment  are 
themselves  not  altogether  comparable  to  those  that  take  place 
among  animals.  It  is  social  causes  that  determine  emigration  to 
colonies,  the  crowding  of  population  in  cities,  the  abundance  or 
scarcity  of  food.  Society  appears  as  the  indirect  first  cause  of 
the  selection  which  thus  goes  on  under  natural  forms. 

1  This  simply  means  that  men  must  adapt  their  economic  activities  more  and 
more  to  a  social,  and  less  and  less  to  a  physical,  environment.  The  hunter  and 
the  financier  are  at  opposite  extremes.  —  ED. 


650 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


SEXUAL  SELECTION 

Of  all  natural  selections,  this  is  the  most  important  for  man- 
kind. Darwin  thought  that  the  evolution  from  the  precursor  to 
man  took  place  under  the  influence  of  sexual  selection.  Broca, 
in  the  work  cited  above,  rejects  this  explanation.  The  selection 
which  produced  this  result  was  no  other  than  that  of  intelligence  ; 
or,  at  least,  one  cannot  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge 
think  of  a  more  effective  one.  None  the  less,  sexual  selection 
has  played  a  great  part  in  all  ages,  and  its  importance  has  de- 
creased without  disappearing.  Sexual  preference  —  among  us 
it  is  called  love  —  is  limited  by  the  necessities  of  social  life  in 
our  countries  of  intense  civilization,  but  it  is  not  suppressed. 
One  still  sees  unions  inspired  by  sentiments  foreign  to  social 
considerations.  True  cases  are  not  very  frequent ;  many  very 
sincere  loves  have  had  for  their  first  object  the  beaux  yeux  de  la 
cassette,  and  material  interests  have  formed  a  fascinating  halo 
about  the  loved  one.  One  loves  the  dowry,  then  one  is  caught 
in  one's  own  snare  and  loves  the  woman.  Come  ruin,  love  takes 
flight. 

Yet  the  statistical  researches  of  H.  Fol  of  Geneva  have  proved 
that  unions  were  being  often  formed  under  conditions  of  morpho- 
logical resemblance  sufficient  to  let  us  assume  a  sexual  preference 
between  similar  individuals.  It  seems  that  among  the  persons 
who  combine  the  desired  circumstances,  that  one  is  preferred 
with  whom  the  analogies  are  closest.  M.  Hermann  Fol  brought 
together  the  photographs  of  2  5 1  couples  ;  he  made  one  lot  of 
young  couples,  comprising  198,  and  another  of  old  couples,  com- 
prising the  53  others.  In  each  lot  he  divided  the  couples  accord- 
ing as  the  resemblance  of  the  parties  was  very  great,  moderate, 
or  dubious  or  none,  and  he  obtained  the  following  results. 


RESEMBLANCE 
VERY  GREAT 

MODERATE 
RESEMBLANCE 

DUBIOUS  OR 

NONR 

Young  couples  .          ... 

27  -tfL 

7Q  A% 

->->  -,01. 

Old  couples  

24.  e% 

4~   ""'  ' 

28   7% 

NATURAL  SELECTION  AND  SOCIAL  SELECTION     651 


To  sum  up,  the  cases  of  appreciable  resemblance  between  the 
parties  amount  to  66  per  cent  in  the  series  of  young  couples,  71 
per  cent  among  the  old  couples.  "  Let  us  note,"  remarks  this  nat- 
uralist (Revue  Scientifique,  1891,  Vol.  47,  p.  49),  "that  if  unions 
were  formed  by  chance,  or,  what  comes  to  the  same  thing  from 
our  point  of  view,  solely  from  motives  of  convenience  or  of  inter- 
est, the  number  of  cases  of  resemblance  between  young  married 
people  would  not  reach  to  2  per  cent."  Hence  he  concludes,  first, 
that  couples  unite  in  accordance  with  the  rule  of  conformities  and 
not  in  accordance  with  that  of  contrasts  ;  second,  that  the  resem- 
blance between  old  married  people  is  not  a  fact  acquired  in  con- 
sequence of  conjugal  life. 

It  would  be  important  to  repeat  under  different  circumstances 
these  researches,  which  bore  chiefly  on  the  lower  classes  of  the 
population,  —  those  classes  in  which  personal  initiative  is  more 
marked  and  choice  less  limited. 

J.  Beddoe,  operating  at  Bristol  in  a  different  ethnographic 
environment,  found  analogous  results.  Studying  women  from 
35  to  50  years  of  age  —  the  age  of  definitive  coloring — in  the 
Bristol  Hospital,  he  found  the  following  relations  between  color 
of  hair  and  matrimonial  position. 


RED  HAIR 
\ 

FAIR  HAIR 

LIGHT 
CHESTNUT 
HAIR 

DEBP 
CHESTNUT 
HAIR 

DARK  HAIR 

Single      .     .     .     . 
Married  .... 

9-8% 
5-5% 

9-o% 

10.2% 

28.7% 

35-o% 

38.5% 
40.8% 

l3-9% 
8.4% 

It  follows  from  these  figures  that  the  scarce  colors,  red  and 
dark,  are  comparatively  given  the  go-by  in  this  region  of  Eng- 
land (Races  of  Britain,  p.  226).  The  dark  are  left  on  the  counter, 
the  red  little  in  demand.  In  Switzerland  and  in  other  countries 
it  appears  to  be  otherwise,  according  to  statistics  by  De  Candolle 
("  Heredite  de  la  Couleur  des  Yeux,"  Archives  des  Sciences  Phy- 
siques et  Naturelles,  1884,  p.  14)  :  "  The  158  dark-eyed  men  mar- 
ried 52  per  cent  of  wives  of  their  color  and  48  per  cent  with 
gray  or  blue  eyes.  As  there  exist  44  per  cent  of  dark  eyes 


652  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

among  the  women  of  French-speaking  Switzerland,  it  appears 
that  these  pleased  them  more.  The  167  men  with  blue  or  gray 
eyes  married  59  per  cent  of  dark-eyed  wives ;  this  is  much  more 
than  the  proportion  among  the  women  of  the  country."  This 
exception  is  perhaps  due  to  the  liveliness  and  pleasingness  of 
dark  eyes,  which  are  much  superior  to  medium  ones.  In  coun- 
tries with  a  population  formed  of  a  mixture  of  Homo  Alpinns  * 
and  Homo  Europaens^  like  Switzerland,  such  a  choice  is  calcu- 
lated to  favor  the  former  race,  for  it  presents  more  dark  eyes. 
The  tendencies  observed  at  Bristol  are  rather  unfavorable  to  it ; 
but  in  these  matters  questions  of  imitation,  fashion,  and  taste 
may  play  a  very  great  part. 

A  very  important  remark  of  De  Candolle  :  "  In  French-speak- 
ing Switzerland  there  have  been  observed  for  91  concolorous 
couples  (couples  with  eyes  of  the  same  color)  246  children 
above  the  age  of  ten,  and  for  122  bicolorous  couples  389;  this 
gives  2.7  per  concolorous  couple  and  3.18  per  bicolorous  couple. 
In  Germany,  for  98  concolorous  couples  289  children,  and  for 
82  bicolorous  252;  that  is,  2.9  and  3.07  per  couple.  Not  even 
the  returns  from  Liege  fail  to  show  the  same  difference,  though 
their  figures  are  very  slight.  They  indicate  for  17  concolorous 
couples  44  children,  and  for  17  bicolorous  59,  which  makes  2.5 
for  the  first  and  3.47  for  the  second."  Such  an  inequality  in  the 
birth  rate  is  very  serious ;  the  question  is  to  know  whether  it  is 
due  to  biological  or  to  social  causes.  I  should  be  quite  willing  to 
believe  that  the  higher  birth  rate  of  the  bicolorous  unions  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  they  are  formed  more  among  the  lower  classes, 
the  brachycephalic  masses  that  are  pullulating  so.  This  supposi- 
tion is  given  a  certain  weight  by  the  observations  which  follow. 
"...  I  find  for  72  concolorous  dark  couples  221  children,  and 
for  131  concolorous  blue  or  gray  couples  357,  or  3.07  and  2.72 
per  couple."  The  birth  rate  of  the  fair  races  being  very  low, 
we  must  assume  that  the  fair  couples  belonged  mainly  to  the 
upper  classes,  who  are  everywhere  less  prolific  and  richer  in 
elements  derived  from  the  European  race.  At  any  rate,  these 
researches  are  very  curious,  and  any  one  who  would  undertake 

1  Linnaeus. 


NATURAL  SELECTION  AND  SOCIAL  SELECTION     653 

the  work  of  generalizing  them,  using  large  numbers  as  his  basis, 
would  probably  find  himself  paid  for  his  pains. 

PATHOLOGICAL  SELECTION 

The  races  present  different  degrees  of  resistance  to  certain 
diseases.  Between  Homo  Europaeus  and  Homo  Alpinus  there 
exists  a  very  decided  difference  as  regards  miliary  fever,1  granu- 
lar conjunctivitis,  and  myopia.  The  first  disease  decimates  the 
dolicho-blonds  of  the  west  of  France  at  each  epidemic  ;  it  hardly 
touches  their  competitors.  At  Montpellier,  a  case  of  granular 
conjunctivitis  on  a  brachycephalic  is  a  rarity.  The  map  of  fre- 
quency of  exemptions  from  military  service  for  myopia  is  approxi- 
mately identical  with  the  map  of  the  cephalic  index.  In  America, 
the  negro  is  nearly  immune  against  yellow  fever  and  against 
various  local  diseases  very  destructive  to  the  whites.  Contrari- 
wise, in  Africa,  in  Indo-China,  the  Europeans  are  almost  entirely 
refractory  to  certain  local  diseases.  In  this  sphere  of  ideas  numer- 
ous researches  have  been  made  by  Dr.  Bordier  and  by  various 
naval  physicians,  to  whose  works  I  confine  myself  to  referring, 
being  desirous  not  to  risk  myself  on  ground  where  I  have  hitherto 
made  no  personal  researches.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  repeat 
what  others  have  said  more  competently  than  I  could. 

SOCIAL  SELECTIONS 

To  sum  up,  the  domain  of  natural  selection  is  quite  limited. 
The  part  it  plays  in  evolution  is  superior  to  that  of  the  causes  of 
transmutation,  but  does  not  come  near  to  that  of  the  causes  of 
social  selection.  The  philosophy  of  history  is  almost  entirely  com- 
prised in  the  study  of  social  selections.  There -remains  yet  a  wide 
field  for  statisticians,  historians,  and  anthropologists,  to  complete 
the  picture  of  the  social  selections. 

1  La  suette  miliaire,  not  typhoid  fever  or  prickly  heat  (which  are  definitions 
given  for  "  miliary  fever  "  by  some  authorities),  but  an  epidemic  apparently  iden- 
tical with  the  "sweating  sickness"  of  the  sixteenth  century,  though  its  modern 
manifestations  differ  in  certain  symptoms.  England,  which  was  the  special  home 
of  the  earlier  disease,  seems  to  be  exempt  in  our  day,  and  likewise  America ; 
hence  the  frequent  ignoring  of  the  modern  disease  by  English  and  American 
authorities.  —  TRANSLATOR. 


XXVII 

THE  EVOLUTIONARY  FUNCTION  AND  USEFUL- 
NESS OF  CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT1 

Each  human  community,  in  every  age,  is  busy  molding  its 
individual  members  into  conformity  with  its  own  type, — into  a 
closer  resemblance  to  the  social  ideal.  The  American  is  differ- 
ent from  the  Englishman,  and  both  are  unlike  the  German.  The 
French  type  is  markedly  distinct  and  separate  from  both  the 
Italian  and  the  Spanish.  A  social  education  environs  us  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave,  —  a  pressure  to  be  this  kind  of  man  and 
not  to  be  this  other  and  antagonistic  kind.  If,  for  the  most  part, 
we  are  scarcely  conscious  of  this  molding  influence,  it  is  because 
we  are  so  used  to  it,  and  because  we  are  ourselves  scions  of 
the  national  stock,  inheriting  these  national  traits  and  tendencies 
from  our  remote  ancestors.  Settle  in  a  foreign  land,  and  the 
pressure  soon  becomes  disagreeably,  perhaps  painfully,  apparent ; 
and  you  must  conform,  in  large  measure,  to  these  unwonted 
customs,  rules,  and  ways  of  doing  things,  if  you  would  be  happy 
and  prosperous  in  the  new  environment. 

In  the  furtherance  of  this  social  education,  two  great  natural 
forces  —  strong,  ever-present,  social  tendencies  —  are  made  use 
of,  encouraged,  trained,  by  the  social  group.  One  is  the  natural 
admiration  and  imitation  of  strong  men,  largely  resembling  their 
comrades,  only  somewhat  better  representatives  of  the  develop- 
ing social  type ;  and  the  second  is  the  instinctive  abhorrence 
and  persecution  of  individuals  unlike  their  fellows,  —  antisocial 
variations — dangerously  hostile  to  the  common  weal.  These 
two  great  socializing  tendencies,  or  forces,  work  together  in 
absolute  harmony ;  and  along  the  line  of  progress  they  induce, 
social  pressure  becomes  more  and  more  strongly  developed, 

1  From  Crime  in  its  Relation  to  Social  Progress,  by  A.  Cleveland  Hall,  pp.  1-22 
(copyright,  1902,  by  the  Columbia  University  Press,  New  York). 

654 


CRIME  AND   PUNISHMENT  655 

with  increasing  social  evolution.  This  pressure  is  partly  con- 
scious and  partly  unconscious,  in  both  directions  :  of  praise  or 
blame,  of  honor  or  persecution.  The  limits  of  the  field  of  crime 
are  largely  coterminous  with  the  extent  of  conscious  persecution 
and  punishment  by  the  social  group  for  wrongs  against  itself,  and 
are  continually  being  extended  with  the  progress  of  civilization. 

The  creation  of  a  new  crime  (that  is,  the  branding  by  society 
of  some  form  of  conduct  as  criminal)  always  implies  social  pun- 
ishment, —  a  punishment  enforced  to  raise  the  community  to  a 
higher  plane  of  life,  a  nearer  approach  toward  the  social  ideal. 
A  new  form  of  crime  means  either  a  step  forward  or  a  step 
backward  for  the  nation  choosing  it.  Wisely  chosen,  it  is  an 
active  force  driving  man  upward  to  a  better,  more  truly  social, 
stage  of  civilization ;  but  the  nation  that  persists  in  choosing 
its  crimes  wrongly  is  on  the  highroad  to  degeneration  and  decay. 
Crime  is  to  the  body  social  much  what  pain  is  to  the  individual. 
Pain  is  the  obverse  of  the  shield  of  pleasure,  and  without  the 
existence  of  pain  there  is  no  pleasure  possible ;  without  increas- 
ing pain  there  is  no  growth  of  higher  pleasures.  So,  also,  crime 
is  the  obverse  of  the  shield  of  social  good,  and  without  increas- 
ing crime  there  is  probably  no  growth  in  social  goodness,  —  or, 
in  other  words,  no  development  of  the  nation  into  the  fullness 
of  its  strength,  happiness,  and  usefulness.  It  will  cease  to  be  a 
living  force  in  the  evolution  of  a  higher  world  civilization,  and 
will  become  stationary,  like  the  Chinese,  or  degenerate,  like  the 
American  Indian. 

Crime,  therefore,  is  an  inevitable  social  evil,  the  dark  side  of 
the  shield  of  human  progress.  The  most  civilized  and  progressive 
states  have  the  most  crime.  It  is  a  social  product,  increasing 
with  the  growth  of  knowledge,  intelligence,  and  social  morality, 
with  all  that  is  summed  up  in  the  words  "  higher  civilization."  l 

1  There  is  scarcely  a  state  in  the  American  Union  for  which  the  census  statis- 
tics do  not  show  a  large  and,  for  the  most  part,  progressive  increase  in  the  number 
of  criminals  (i.e.  prisoners)  in  proportion  to  population,  since  1850.  The  average 
numbers  for  these  five  census  periods  are:  For  Massachusetts,  1899  prisoners 
per  i ,000,000  population ;  New  York,  1378;  Maryland,  993;  Missouri,  689 ;  Arkan- 
sas, 651;  Mississippi,  551;  Utah  (four  last  census  periods),  529;  New  Mexico 
(four  last  census  periods),  510. 


656  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  increase  of  crime  largely  takes  the  direction  of  acts  in 
opposition  to  new  social  prohibitions.  These  prohibitions  are 
neither  accidental  nor  whimsical,  but  are  inevitable  consequences 
of  the  increasing  complexity  of  life.  In  general,  new  crime  fol- 
lows lines  of  greatest  resistance  to  the  new  life  of  society. 

This  book  is  an  attempt  to  study  some  of  the  relations  of 
crime  to  social  progress,  chiefly  two  great  phases  of  the  sub- 
ject, namely  :  the  evolutionary  function  and  usefulness  of  crime 
and  punishment,  and  crime  as  a  social  product,  increasing  with 
the  increase  of  social  prohibitions. 

Nature's  great  task,  throughout  the  ages,  seems  to  have  been 
the  elevation  of  the  individual,  at  the  expense  of  his  powers  of 
reproduction,  —  individuation  versus  procreation,  —  resulting  in 
the  persistent  rise  in  value  of  the  individual  life,  as  measured  in 
terms  of  size,  strength,  and  activity  of  body  and  of  brain.  The 
forces  preservative  of  race  are  two,  writes  Herbert  Spencer,  — 
the  power  to  maintain  the  individual,  the  power  to  generate  the 
species.  These  vary  inversely  —  as  one  decreases  the  other  in- 
creases.1 The  evolution  of  larger,  stronger,  more  highly  devel- 
oped forms  of  life  is  always  accompanied  by  the  same  phenome- 
non, —  a  decreasing  birth  rate.  The  minutest  organisms  multiply 
in  their  millions ;  the  small  compound  types  next  above  them  in 
their  thousands,  while  larger  and  more  compound  types  multiply 
but  in  their  hundreds  or  their  tens,  and  the  largest  and  most 
highly  developed  types  only  by  twos  or  units.2  Lowest  organ- 
isms are  marvelously  prolific.  The  shallow  seas  of  the  Paleozoic 
age  swarmed  with  minute  life,  which  left  its  history  written  in 
the  fossils  of  the  hills,  in  the  coral  reefs  of  ocean,  in  chalk  cliffs 
and  siliceous  deposits  everywhere,  and  in  "  the  summits  of  great 
mountain  ranges  in  Europe,  Africa,  and  India,"  formed  of  tiny 
shells  of  animals  (known  as  nummulites),  which  lived  and  died  and 
helped  to  build  our  earth,  during  those  early  ages.3  Undeveloped 
life  is  almost  completely  dependent  upon  its  physical  environment. 
The  lower  the  organism  the  smaller  its  ability  to  contend  with 
external  dangers,  and  great  fertility  is  absolutely  necessary  to 

1  See  Principles  of  Biology,  Vol.  II,  p.  401. 
3  Ibid.,  pp.  426-427.  8  Mitchell,  p.  47. 


CRIME  AND   PUNISHMENT  657 

preserve  the  species  from  destruction.  Evolutionary  forces  act 
upon  these  lowly  forms  of  life  mainly  from  the  outside,  upon  whole 
groups,  rather  than  from  within  the  group,  upon  its  members 
singly.1  The  development  produced  by  such  means  is  enormously 
expensive.  Nature  seems  to  squander  life,  holding  it  of  little 

worth. 

A  thousand  types  are  in  the  hills. 

During  the  Mesozoic  or  reptilian  age,  natural  selection  was 
working  along  a  low  plane  of  individual  self-interest ;  dominance 
was  the  reward  of  great  size  and  enormous  physical  strength. 
But  in  united  effort  there  is  greater  power  than  any  gigantic 
brute  can  possess,  and  social  life,  with  its  mutual  helpfulness 
against  enemies  and  stimulation  of  mental  development,  becomes 
the  prime  requisite  for  success  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  — 
the  great  means  to  the  attainment  of  a  higher,  more  unselfish  life. 

After  some  mental  activity  has  been  aroused  within  the  social 
group,  there  is,  as  it  were,  an  effort  of  nature  to  promote  upward 
growth  by  a  less  wasteful  process,  using  the  awakened  individual 
intelligence,  combined  with  the  inherited  social  instinct,  to  induce 
evolution  from  within  the  group,  by  encouraging  useful  variation 
from  the  average  —  thus  producing  the  leader  —  and  punishing 
harmful  variation,  thus  ultimately  converting  the  mere  malefac- 
tor into  the  criminal.  Social  pressure  from  within  the  group 
unites  with  the  pressure  from  without  to  uplift  and  socialize  the 
individual.  One  of  the  most  impoitant  forms  of  this  inner  pres- 
sure is  called  among  men  criminal  prosecution  and  punishment. 

A  social  group  is  fundamentally  a  kindred  group.  Its  mem- 
bers feel  a  resemblance  among  themselves,  and  a  sense  of  safety 
and  of  pleasure  develops.  There  is  general  likeness  with  indi- 
vidual variation.  The  natural  leaders  are  very  like  their  fellows, 

1  A  numerically  large  group  of  these  microscopic  organisms  would  occupy  a 
very  small  space  on  the  surface  of  our  earth,  and  their  environment  would  be 
practically  the  same  for  all  individuals ;  that  is,  the  forces  acting  upon  them  for 
good  or  evil  would  be  in  general  the  same  throughout  the  entire  group  ;  and,  being 
so  very  plastic  under  external  influences,  they  would  all  develop  in  much  the  same 
way,  until  success  or  destruction  came  to  the  entire  band.  Another  similar  group,  a 
little  removed  in  space,  might  have  a  different  set  of  forces  acting  upon  it,  have  its  in- 
dividual units  differently  developed,  and  perhaps  succeed  where  the  first  group  failed. 


658  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

being  simply  somewhat  stronger  exponents  of  the  developing 
social  type.  Divergence  from  this  type  is  disliked,  and  antago- 
nistic variation  meets  with  conscious  or  unconscious  persecution. 
And  rightly  so,  for  the  social  might  stands  as  a  shield  before  each 
and  every  member,  protecting  him  from  the  destruction  his 
weakness  must  call  down,  if  left  unaided.  In  so  doing,  society 
makes  itself,  as  it  were,  responsible  to  nature  for  the  acts  of  all 
its  members.  The  individual  whose  persistent  conduct  weakens 
the  social  bond,  or  injures  the  effectiveness  of  the  social  group, 
must  be  made  powerless  to  harm  ;  for,  since  social  life  to  a  large 
extent  prevents  the  immediate  action  of  natural  selection  upon 
the  individual,  wise  social  selection  must  take  its  place,  or  de- 
struction comes  to  all. 

This  is  the  explanation  of  crime  and  of  the  necessity  for  its 
punishment.  Individual  variations,  actively  antagonistic  to  the 
prevalent  social  type,  exist  in  all  the  higher  social  groups.  Com- 
monly they  are  social  laggards,  who  have  not  kept  pace  with  the 
average  development  toward  the  social  ideal.  The  rebellious 
social  laggard  is  the  true  criminal ;  other  laggards  belong  to  the 
pauper  class.  Even  the  higher  animal  societies  collectively  pun- 
ish the  most  dangerous  antisocial  acts.  Much  the  same  conduct 
with  a  few  additions  is  punished  by  the  lowest  human  societies 
now  known  upon  the  earth ;  and,  as  social  life  attains  to  higher 
planes,  more  and  more  actions  become  socially  harmful,  are  gen- 
erally recognized  as  such,  and  added  to  the  list  of  crimes ;  that 
is,  the  list  of  actions  which  society  punishes  as  wrongs  against 
itself,  for  the  sake  of  the  general  welfare,  for  the  preservation 
of  the  social  life,  for  the  elevation  of  the  individual  toward  the 
ideal  of  the  social  type. 

Thus  the  production  of  crime  and  criminals  is  one  of  the  sav- 
ing processes  of  nature,  substituting  a  lesser  for  a  greater  evil, 
promoting  upward  progress  at  a  smaller  cost.  For  if  nature  had 
not  induced  this  increasingly  severe  social  selection  and  pressure 
within  the  group,  toward  the  elevation  of  the  individual  and 
the  improvement  of  the  type,  then  that  primitive  and  unreason- 
ing form  of  pressure  from  physical  forces  without  the  group, 
which  always  persists,  must  have  continued  alone  in  operation, 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  659 

destroying  countless  individuals  and  groups,  without,  if  we  may 
so  express  it,  the  attempt  to  educate  them  into  the  true  lines  of 
their  upward  development. 

Ancient  human  society  was  organized  upon  the  basis  of  kin- 
dred —  blood  relationship  —  and  not  upon  the  possession  of  a 
common  territory.  Now,  the  individual  is  the  unit,  and  is  respon- 
sible to  the  state  alone.  Then,  the  kindred  was  the  unit,  and 
a  wide  system  of  group  responsibility  prevailed.1  A  man  was 
responsible  to  his  kindred,  gens  (or  clan),  his  phratry,  tribe,  and 
tribal  confederacy,  if  this  last  existed.  Each  of  these  groups 
was  likewise  responsible  for  the  man,  for  each  and  every  mem- 
ber. It  suffered  for  his  misdeeds  and  could  be  rewarded  for  his 
good  actions.  The  minor  groups  were  originally  independent  — 
not  yet  included  in  any  larger  and  more  complex  social  body  — 
and  possessed,  or,  we  may  almost  say,  were  possessed  by,  a  wild 
and  ferocious  justice,  reeking  itself  in  fierce  spasms  of  social  ven- 
geance, "  half  punishment,  half  outrage,"  upon  some  hated  mem- 
ber of  the  band.  Few  acts,  however,  were  punished  by  the  social 
groups,  as  such,  and  few  acts  were  therefore  crimes.  Injuries 
to  individuals  were  left  to  private  revenge,  and  there  were  other 
harmful  acts  —  sins  —  supposed  to  be  punished  by  the  gods. 

In  gentile  society,  the  household  was  the  economic  institution. 
Its  chief  function  was  the  obtaining  of  a  food  supply.  The  gens 
(or  clan)  was  a  mutual  protective  association,  for  help,  defense, 
and  redress  of  grievances.  Its  function  may  be  called  judicial 
protective.2  The  phratry  (fyparpia,  "  brotherhood  ")  was  formed 
by  a  union  of  related  gentes.  It  was  the  chief  religious  institu- 
tion and  had  also  social  and  judicial  protective  functions.3  The 
tribe  or  tribal  confederacy  was  primarily  a  military  institution, 
standing  for  the  unity  and  might  of  the  gentile  people.4 

Each  one  of  these  social  groups  possessed  judicial  and  penal 
authority,  by  right  of  ancestral,  immemorial  custom.  Yet,  in 
the  most  primitive  legal  codes  which  have  come  down  to  us,  the 
evidence  for  such  authority  is  very  scanty.  Why  is  this  ?  Early 
Germanic  codes  of  customary  law  embody  but  a  part  of  the 


1  Hearn,  p.  457  ;  Maine,  pp.  126-127.  8  JMd-i  P-  94- 

2  Morgan,  Ancient  Society,  pp.  76,  77.  4  Ibid.,  p.  117. 


660  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

ancient  penal  customs  of  the  race.  Thus  we  find  no  mention  of 
the  father's  right  to  punish  for  offenses  within  the  family.  Such 
power  was  regulated,  then  as  now,  by  social  custom  and  existed 
none  the  less  surely,  though  not  chronicled  in  written  laws.1 
Thus,  also,  crimes,2  or  authority  to  punish  for  such  offenses,  are 
rarely  mentioned ;  yet  crimes  existed,  and  the  ability  and  will 
to  punish  were  not  lacking.  These  codes  of  the  German  barba- 
rians afford  us,  nevertheless,  by  far  the  most  clear  and  complete 
record  we  possess  of  ancient  legal  systems.3  They  deal  almost 
entirely  with  offenses  which  would  now  be  classed  as  criminal, 
but  which  were  not  criminal  then,  in  any  true  sense  of  that 
word.4  They  were  injuries  inflicted  by  man  upon  his  fellow-man, 
such  as  would  now  result  in  a  civil  suit  for  damages.  These  acts 
were  not  regarded  nor  punished  by  society  (or  the  state)  as 
wrongs  against  itself,  and  in  this  consists  the  very  essence  of 
all  crime.  The  laws,  at  first,  simply  afforded  an  opportunity 
for  the  injured  party  to  accept  compensation  rather  than  exact 
private  vengeance  (his  undoubted  right).  The  penalty  was  pro- 
portioned to  the  provocation,  and  not  to  the  offense.  Later, 
the  laws  hardened  into  a  compulsory  seeking  and  acceptance 
of  composition  offered  for  an  offense,  before  private  vengeance 
could  be  legally  pursued.  The  man  who  refused  to  ask  and 
accept  an  atonement  for  the  injury  received,  and  the  offender 
who  would  not  pay  the  customary  price  for  his  forgiveness,  thus 
preserving  the  peace  of  the  community,  came  to  be  regarded  as 
untrue  to  the  folk,  and  were  solemnly  declared  outside  of  the 
law's  protection,  —  outlaws.  Such  men  were  true  criminals  ; 
possibly  the  first  dealt  with,  under  the  law,  as  distinguished 
from  ancient  social  custom.6 

Thus  we  find  in  the  earliest  Germanic  codes  many  penal  laws, 
but  not  much  true  criminal  law.6    They  were  attempts,  at  first 

1  Offenses  against  the  father's  authority  have  never  been  crimes  in  any  age,  no 
matter  how  great  the  paternal  right  of  chastisement.    They  were  sins  rather. 

2  Brunner,  Vol.  II,  pp.  603  et  seq. 
8  Maine,  p.  367. 

4  See  article  on  Crime,  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 

6R.  R.  Cherry,  p.  14.    For  Iceland,  see  The  Story  of  Gisli,  the  Outlaw ;  edited 
by  Sir  J.  Dasent.  6  Maine,  pp.  369-370. 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  66 1 

weak,  but  steadily  gaining  in  firmness  and  hardening  into  law, 
to  tame  these  wild  men  of  the  woods,  by  substituting  an  elabo- 
rate system  of  composition  for  the  dearly  loved  right  of  blood 
revenge.  But  the  lack  of  a  developed  criminal  law  is  no  evidence 
that  crimes  were  not  recognized  and  punished  by  early  Germanic 
society.  In  fact,  we  have  positive  proof  to  the  contrary  not 
only  for  the  Germans  but  for  all  other  races  of  the  great  Euro- 
pean-Aryan stock,  and  even  for  the  lowest  savage  hordes  known 
to  man,  such  as  the  Australian  Black-fellows  and  the  African 
Bushmen.  Human  society  everywhere,  writes  Waitz,  "  has  some 
common  interest  in  opposition  to  the  private  interests  of  the 
individuals  composing  it."  J  Where  the  individual  insists  upon 
acting  in  opposition  to  social  necessity,  there  we  have  the  true 
criminal,  and  society  must  punish  him  or  cease  to  exist. 

How  did  primitive  society  punish  the  criminal  ?  Just  as 
private  vengeance  struck  down  the  man  who  had  harmed  his 
fellow-man,  so  social  vengeance  destroyed  the  malefactor  who  had 
injured  the  social  body  so  seriously  as  to  awaken  in  its  members 
the  passionate  longing  for  revenge.  There  was  no  criminal  law, 
because  there  was  a  separate  action  and  procedure  in  the  case 
of  every  criminal.  Fundamentally  instin'ctive,  as  are  many  acts 
of  self-preservation,  and  for  long  largely  unreasoning,  like  the 
lynch  law  of  mobs,  primitive  society  struck  at  its  criminal  mem- 
bers directly,  through  the  folkmote  or  assembly  of  all  freemen. 
The  people  tried,  condemned,  and  punished,  following  the  dic- 
tates of  ancestral  custom,  with  its  roots  deep  in  instinctive 
necessary  action.  Socially  necessary  action  equals  right  action, 
because  it  is  indispensable  for  social  self-preservation  and  upward 
progress.  The  people  also  slowly  and  almost  unconsciously 
modified  ancient  custom  to  meet  new  needs. 

No  higher  power  —  king,  or  priest,  or  noble  —  decreed  what 
acts  should  be  called  criminal  or  compelled  their  punishment. 
Lowest  savage  tribes  are  intensely  democratic  and  acknowledge 
no  form  of  government,  human  or  divine.  Higher  societies  — 
Homeric  Greeks,  Romans  of  the  days  of  Romulus,  early  Celts, 
Slavs,  and  German  barbarians  of  the  first  Christian  century  — 

1  Waitz,  Anthropology,  p.  276. 


662  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

elected  their  magistrates,  chiefs,  and  kings,  who  could  also  be 
deposed  by  the  assembly  of  the  freemen,  and  most  important 
matters  were  always  referred  to  its  decision.1  The  people  were 
sovereign,  judge,  and  often  executioner.  They  alone  determined 
what  constituted  crime.  They  alone  had  power  to  condemn  and 
punish  criminals.  Crime  was  and  is  a  social  product. 

How  then  shall  we  define  crime  ?  Crime  is  any  act  or  omission 
to  act,  punished  by  society  as  a  wrong  against  itself.  This  is 
not  merely  the  author's  own  definition  of  crime,  possibly  made 
to  harmonize  with  his  peculiar  views  :  it  is  the  condensed  expres- 
sion of  opinions  held  in  common  by  the  whole  school  of  histor- 
ical jurisprudence,  and  generally  accepted  by  modern  writers  on 
criminal  law,  as  the  reader  may  prove  for  himself  by  an  exami- 
nation of  the  following  passages  : 

SIR  HENRY  SUMNER  MAINE 
Ancient  Law 

In  the  primitive  history  of  criminal  law,  "  the  conception  of 
crime ',  as  distinguished  from  that  of  wrong  or  tort,  and  from  that 
of  sin,  involves  the  idea  of  injury  to  the  state  or  collective  com- 
munity" "  The  commonwealth  itself  interposed  directly  and  by 
isolated  acts  to  avenge  itself  on  the  author  of  the  evil  which  it 
had  suffered."  (p.  385.) 

"  The  earliest  conception  of  a  crimen  or  crime  is  an  act  involv- 
ing such  high  issues  that  the  state,  instead  of  leaving  its  cog- 
nizance to  the  civil  tribunal,  or  the  religious  court,  directed  a 
special  law  or  privilegium  against  the  perpetrator."  "The  tri- 
bunal dispensing  justice  was  the  sovereign  state  itself'.'  There 
was  not  "  at  this  epoch  any  law  of  crimes,  any  criminal  juris- 
prudence.2 The  procedure  was  identical  with  the  forms  of  pass- 
ing an  ordinary  statute."  (pp.  372-373.) 

"  Nothing  can  be  simpler  than  the  considerations  which  ulti- 
mately led  ancient  societies  to  the  formation  of  a  true  criminal 
jurisprudence.  The  state  conceived  itself  to  be  wronged,  and  the 

1  Ihering,  Vorgeschichte  der  Indoeuropaer,  pp.  396-397. 

a  This  is  somewhat  too  sweeping  a  statement,  as  German  students  have  proved. 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  663 

popular  assembly  struck  straight  at  the  offender  with  the  same 
movement  which  accompanied  its  legislative  action."  (p.  381.) 
Later,  "  when  a  regular  criminal  law  with  courts  and  officers 
had  come  into  being,  the  old  procedure  remained  practicable. 
The  people  of  Rome  always  retained  the  power  of  punishing  by  a 
special  law  offenses  against  its  majesty!'  So  "  the  Athenian  Bill 
of  Pains  and  Penalties,  or  ElaayyeXia,  survived  the  establish- 
ment of  regular  tribunals."  (p.  373.)  "  The  Heliaea  of  classical 
times  was  simply  the  popular  assembly  convened  for  judicial 
purposes,  and  the  famous  Dikasteries  of  Athens  were  only  its 
subdivision  or  panels."  "  The  history  of  Roman  criminal  juris- 
prudence begins  with  the  old  judicia  populi,  at  which  the  kings 
are  said  to  have  presided.  These  were  simply  solemn  trials  of 
great  offenders  under  legislative  forms."  (p.  382.)  "  When  the 
freemen  of  the  Teutonic  races  assembled  for  legislation  they  also 
claimed  authority  to  punish  offenses  of  peculiar  blackness  or  per- 
petrated by  criminals  of  exalted  station.  Of  this  nature  was 
the  criminal  jurisdiction  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  witenagemote." 

(P-  374-) 

R.  R.  CHERRY 

The  Growth  of  Criminal  Law  in  Ancient  Communities 

"  In  ancient  law  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  crime!'  "  Criminal 
law,  as  distinct  from  penal  law,  involves  some  element  of  public 
condemnation,  such  as  a  sentence  of  outlawry."  "  The  proto- 
type of  a  modern  criminal  trial  appears  in  the  solemn  proclama- 
tion at  the  tribe  meeting,  after  full  inquiry,  of  the  sentence  of 
outlawry."  (p.  14.) 

"Criminal  law  originated  not  in  any  command  at  all  (as  the 
school  of  analytical  jurisprudence  seems  to  maintain)  but  in 
the  custom  of  retaliation,  at  a  time  when  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  a  sovereign  body  to  issue  a  command,  and  no  means  of 
enforcing  it,  were  it  issued."  (p.  I6.)1 

1  John  Austin,  founder  of  the  school  of  analytical  jurisprudence,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing definition  of  law  in  his  Lectures  on  Jurisprudence  (edition  of  1869):  "  Law 
is  a  rule  laid  down  for  the  guidance  of  an  intelligent  being  by  an  intelligent  being 
having  power  over  him."  (p.  88.)  "  Customary  laws  are  positive  laws  fash- 
ioned by  judicial  legislation  upon  preexisting  customs."  "  These  customs  are 


664  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

O.  W.  HOLMES,  JR. 
The  Common  Law 

"  The  germ  of  criminal  law  is  found  in  the  desire  for  retalia- 
tion against  the  offending  thing  itself  .  .  .  vengeance  was  the 
original  object."  (p.  34.) 

"  The  secret  root  from  which  the  law  draws  all  the  juices  of 
life  .  .  .  i.e.  considerations  of  what  is  expedient  for  the  com- 
munity concerned  ;  .  .  .  generally  the  unconscious  result  of  in- 
stinctive preferences  and  inarticulate  convictions."  (pp.  35-36.) 

JOHN  WILDER  MAY 
The  Law  of  Crimes 

"  Crime  is  a  violation  or  neglect  of  duty  of  so  much  public 
importance  that  the  law,  either  common  or  statute,  takes  notice 
of  and  punishes  it."  (p.  i.)  "Not  every  act  which  is  legally 
wrong  is  a  crime.  Private  wrongs  are  redressed  by  suits  inter 
paries.  In  a  criminal  prosecution  the  government  itself  is  a  party, 
and  the  government  moves  only  when  the  interest  of  the  public 
is  involved.  The  basis  of  criminality  is  therefore  the  effect  of 
the  act  complained  of  upon  the  public."  (p.  4.) 

"Moral  obliquity  is  not  an  essential  element  of  crime.  What, 
therefore,  is  criminal  in  one  jurisdiction  may  not  be  criminal  in 
another,  and  what  may  be  criminal  at  a  particular  period  is  often 
found  not  to  have  been  criminal  at  a  different  period  in  the  same 
jurisdiction."  "  The  general  opinion  of  society,  finding  expression 
through  common  law  or  through  special  statutes,  makes  an  act 
to  be  criminal  or  not  according  to  the  view  which  it  takes  of 
the  proper  means  of  preserving  order  and  promoting  justice." 
"Adultery  is  a  crime  in  some  jurisdictions,  while  in  others  it  is 
left  within  the  domain  of  morals."  *'  Embezzlement,  which  was, 
till  within  a  comparatively  recent  period,  a  mere  breach  of  trust, 
cognizable  only  by  the  civil  courts,  has  been  nearly,  if  not  quite 

merely  rules  set  by  opinions  of  the  governed,  and  sanctioned  or  enforced  morally  " 
till  they  "  are  clothed  with  legal  sanctions  by  the  sovereign  one  or  number." 
(p.  204.)  Under  these  ancestral  customs  crime  was  punished  by  society  long 
before  law  began. 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  665 

universally,  brought  by  statute  into  the  category  of  crimes  as  a 
modified  larceny."  "  The  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  is  or  is  not 
a  crime,  according  to  the  different  views  of  public  policy  enter- 
tained by  different  communities."  (pp.  4  and  5.)  "  It  is  impos- 
sible to  draw  an  exact  line  between  offenses  that  are  criminal 
and  those  which  are  merely  civil  wrongs."  The  question  to  be 
settled  is,  "  Has  the  public  security  •  been  endangered  by  the 
offense?"  (pp.  7  and  IO.)1 

American  and  English  Encyclopedia  of  Law,  second  edition,  1898 
(The  latest  and  best  work  of  the  kind) 

Article  on  crime.  "A  crime  is  more  accurately  characterized 
as  a  wrong  directly  or  indirectly  affecting  the  public,  to  the  com- 
mission of  which  the  state  has  annexed  certain  punishments  and 
penalties,  and  which  it  prosecutes  in  i(s  own  name  in  what  is 
called  a  criminal  proceeding."  (p.  248.) 

Crimes  distinguished  from  civil  injuries.  In  State  v.  Williams, 
7  Rob.  (La.)  271,  it  is  said  :  "The  distinction  of  public  wrongs 
from  private,  of  crimes  and  misdemeanors  from  civil  injuries, 
seems  principally  to  consist  in  this  :  that  private  wrongs,  or 
civil  injuries,  are  an  infringement  or  privation  of  the  civil  rights 
which  belong  to  individuals,  considered  merely  as  individuals ; 
public  wrongs,  or  crimes  and  misdemeanors,  are  a  breach  and 
violation  of  the  public  rights  and  duties  due  to  the  whole  com- 
munity, considered  as  a  community,  in  its  social  aggregate 
capacity."  (4  Blackstone  Com.  5.) 

These  extracts  from  the  works  of  well-known  writers  on  juris- 
prudence should  suffice  to  give  us  clear  ideas  concerning  the 

1  May  classifies  crimes  as  treasons,  felonies,  and  misdemeanors.  Treason  is  a 
direct  attack  upon  government  and  disturbs  the  foundations  of  society  itself.  It  is 
"  active  disloyalty  to  the  state."  (This  was  probably  the  original  form  of  crime.) 

Beccaria  (Marquis)  of  Milan  :  "  Observe,  that  by  justice  I  understand  nothing 
more  than  that  bond  which  is  necessary  to  keep  the  interest  of  individuals  united, 
without  which  men  would  return  to  the  original  state  of  barbarity.  All  punishments 
which  exceed  the  necessity  of  preserving  this  bond  are  in  their  nature  unjust." 
See  Beccaria,  chap,  ii,  "Of  the  Right  to  Punish." 

"  Every  punishment  which  does  not  arise  from  absolute  necessity,"  says  the 
great  Montesquieu,  "  is  tyrannical."  (Same  chapter.) 


666  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

origin  and  nature  of  crime  and  criminal  law.  We  see  that  among 
primitive  peoples  criminal  law  had  scarcely  yet  come  into  exist- 
ence. The  penal  laws  first  developed  were  laws  of  tort,  or 
injuries  of  man  to  man ;  and  laws  of  sin,  or  offenses  against  the 
gods.  But  the  idea  of  crime  as  a  serious  injury  to  society  itself, 
and  the  punishment  of  criminals  by  society,  obedient  to  the 
passion  for  vengeance  and  the  dictates  of  ancestral  custom,  are 
found  everywhere  among  primitive  Aryans  and  all  other  races 
of  men.  As  that  great  authority,  Sir  Henry  Sumner  Maine, 
writes  in  Ancient  Law  (p.  372) : 

"It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  conception  so  simple  and 
elementary  as  that  of  wrong  done  to  the  state  was  wanting  in 
any  primitive  society.  It  means  rather  that  the  very  distinct- 
ness with  which  this  conception  is  realized  is  the  true  cause 
which  at  first  prevents  the  growth  of  a  criminal  law.  .  .  . 
When  the  Roman  community  conceived  itself  wronged,  the 
state  avenged  itself  by  a  single  act  on  the  individual  wrongdoer. 
.  .  .  The  trial  of  a  criminal  was  a  proceeding  wholly  extraor- 
dinary, wholly  irregular,  wholly  independent  of  settled  rules  and 
fixed  conditions." 

Crime  includes  misdemeanors.  It  is  important  that  we  should 
recognize  this  truth.  There  is  no  fixed  line  of  moral  heinousness 
beyond  which  all  acts  are  crimes.  That  which  is  punished  as  a 
most  serious  offense  in  one  age  is  often  a  simple  misdemeanor 
in  another,  or  perhaps  no  crime  at  all.  On  the  other  hand, 
harmless  actions  or  petty  misdemeanors  of  ancient  days  are  now 
among  our  most  troublesome  and  dangerous  crimes.  Is  adultery 
a  crime,  misdemeanor,  or  civil  injury  ?  In  New  York  it  is  legally 
a  crime ;  in  England,  more  of  the  nature  of  a  tort,  and  in  some 
countries  it  is  simply  a  sin,  unpunished  by  the  law.  Our  ances- 
tors very  lightly  regarded  most  forms  of  forgery  and  fraud, 
malicious  injuries  to  property,  painful  wounds,  and  attempts  at 
murder.  We  deem  them  serious  crimes.  What  shall  we  say  of 
drunkenness,  of  the  sale  of  intoxicants,  of  failure  to  have  one's 
children  educated  ?  Most  people  see  nothing  immoral  in  such 
conduct,  but  a  few  states  have  made  these  actions  criminal  in 
recent  years.  The  moral  sense  and  intelligence  of  the  community 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  667 

decide  such  questions,  according  to  social  needs,  upon  the  plane 
of  development  attained. 

The  definition  of  "crime"  in  the  American  and  English  Ency- 
clopaedia of  Law  (1898)  is  framed  to  include  misdemeanors. 
On  page  248  we  read  :  "Although  in  common  usage  the  word 
'  crime '  commonly  denotes  such  offenses  as  are  of  a  deep  and 
atrocious  die,  and  similar  faults  and  omissions  of  less  consequence 
are  comprised  under  the  name  of  misdemeanors,  yet  '  crime ' 
and  '  misdemeanor '  in  legal  language  are  synonymous  terms, 
and  the  word  '  crime '  in  a  statute  has  frequently  been  held 
to  include  misdemeanors."1  This  is  clearly  recognized  in  the 
Report  on  Forgery,  by  the  Select  Committee  on  the  Criminal 
Law  of  England  (1827).  "  Forgery  is  made  criminal  by  the  com- 
mon law,  and  by  various  statutes.  At  common  law  it  is  a  mis- 
demeanor only  ;  under  the  statutes  it  is  frequently  a  felony.  But, 
unless  in  raising  the  crime  to  a  higher  class,"  etc.  (p.  i.) 

Sir  James  Fitzjames  Stephen  writes  :  "A  large  number  of 
misdemeanors  were  created  by  statute  at  different  times,  but 
especially  in  the  i8th  and  iQth  centuries,  which  differ  in  no 
essential  respect  from  the  common  crimes  distinguished  as  felo- 
nies. For  instance,  to  obtain  goods  by  false  pretenses,  to  mis- 
appropriate securities  intrusted  to  the  offender  as  agent,  solicitor, 
or  banker,  and  to  commit  many  other  fraudulent  or  mischievous 
acts,  are,  as  far  as  moral  guilt  is  concerned,  on  a  level  with  theft."2 

It  is  very  necessary  that  we  should  grasp  clearly  the  distinc- 
tion between  tort,  sin,  crime,  and  acts  of  war.  The  field  of  crime 
has  spread  to  such  an  extent  as  to  cover  many  actions  formerly 
classed  under  these  other  heads. 

A  tort  is  essentially  a  private  injury  as  distinguished  from  a 
public  wrong.  It  is  a  harm  inflicted  by  a  man  upon  his  fellowman, 

1  Crime  includes  misdemeanors.    England :    Maine  v.  Owen,  9  B.  &  C.  595 ; 
17  E.  C.  L.  456.    New  York  :  Matter  of  Clark,  9  Wend.  (N.Y.)  212.    Pennsylvania: 
Lehigh  County  v.  Schock,  113  Pa.  St.,  373.    Illinois  :  Van  Meter  v.  People,  60  111. 
1 68.    For  many  more  such  decisions,  see  page  250,  American  and  English  Encyclo- 
paedia of  Law  (1898). 

2  History  of  the  Criminal  Law  of  England,  Vol.  I,  p.  489.    The  criterion  of  a 
delete  or  tort  is  that  "  the  person  who  suffers  it,  and  not  the  state,  is  conceived 
to  be  wronged."    (Maine,  p.  371.) 


668  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

not  regarded  as  a  wrong  done  the  state,  but  giving  rise  to 
a  civil  suit  for  damages.  In  ancient  times  the  injured  man 
would  have  sought  private  vengeance,  and  a  blood  feud  might 
have  resulted.  Later  it  became  customary  to  accept  arbitration 
and  pecuniary  composition.  Society  gave  to  this  arbitration  a 
legal  form  and  made  the  acceptance  of  the  damages  awarded 
compulsory,  unless  the  plaintiff  chose  not  to  press  his  suit. 
Thus,  for  a  tribesman  to  kill  or  steal  from  a  man  of  another 
clan  within  his  own  tribe  was  a  tort  demanding  vengeance  or 
compensation. 

A  sin  is  an  offense  against  God,  frequently  punished  as  a 
crime  by  men.  To  kill  one's  blood  brother  was  a  fearful  sin,  pun- 
ished by  the  community  with  the  dread  social  doom  of  outlawry. 

To  kill  or  steal  from  a  member  of  another  tribe  was  an  act 
of  war,  the  weakening  of  a  natural  enemy  and  consequently 
praiseworthy.  It  was  only  very  slowly  and  gradually  that  theft, 
murder,  robbery,  and  rape  (within  the  social  group)  became 
crimes ;  regarded  not  merely  as  misfortunes  or  harms  to  an  in- 
dividual but  chiefly  as  wrongs  to  society  itself,  to  be  punished 
by  society,  utterly  irrespective  of  the  wishes  of  the  persons 
chiefly  concerned.1 

Primitive  man  was,  as  Aristotle  has  well  said,  "  the  hardest 
of  all  animals  to  govern."  The  European  Aryan  was  a  sturdy 
individualist,  passionate,  rebellious  at  restraint,  loving  war  and 
vengeance  as  his  duty  and  his  right,  —  as  that  which  makes  a 
man.  The  blood  feud  had  its  use.  It  tended  to  consolidate  the 
family  group  and  to  develop  responsibility.  It  was  a  rough  and 
terrible  means  of  preserving  peace ;  for  even  the  boldest  man 
would  hesitate  before  bringing  the  vengeance  of  an  entire  kin- 
dred upon  his  house  from  generation  to  generation.  It  was  also 
a  weighty  reason  for  the  developing  of  strength,  courage,  and 
weapon  skill.  Every  hand  must  guard  its  own  head  and  every 
freeman  his  own  home.  Thus  it  made  for  social  stability  and 
warlike  power. 

1  Maine  (pp.  370-371)  and  Encyclopaedia  Britannica  (article  on  Crime):  "In 
very  primitive  tribes,  murder,  robbery  and  rape,  are  not  crimes,  —  not  at  least  in 
the  modern  sense." 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  669 

The  tribal  state  was  but  a  weak  institution,  chiefly  for  mili- 
tary purposes.  It  punished  a  few  acts  as  crimes  because  they 
had  to  be  punished  if  the  social  group  was  to  hold  together,  but 
at  first  it  dared  not  interfere  with  individual  vengeance,  the 
right  of  private  war.1  Arbitration  and  composition  for  harm 
were  very  early  offered  as  a  substitute  for  blood  revenge,  but 
even  when  the  state  became  strong  enough  to  make  arbitration 
compulsory,  it  yet  preserved  for  long  (in  its  trials)  the  semblance 
of  a  purely  voluntary  agreement.2 

What  primitive  society  needed  most  was  strong,  despotic  law, 
to  bind  it  firmly  together,  and  give  it  strength  and  power  to 
grow.  Such  law  was  most  difficult  to  create  and  to  enforce.3 
It  formed  first  where  most  needed,  strengthening  the  outer 
shell  of  association,  hardening  the  tribe  for  war.  Just  as  in  the 
evolving  sphere  of  earth  the  outside  crust  forms  and  hardens 
first,  while  the  inside  matter  is  yet  hot  and  molten,  so  in  primi- 
tive human  society  the  outside  shell  of  legal  custom  hardened 
over  the  unruly  passions  of  men  unused  to  restraint,  whose 
explosive  natures  were  continually  driving  them  into  fierce 
words  and  bloody  deeds.4  In  this  stage  of  development,  writes 
Steinmetz,  there  is  as  yet  a  kind  of  indifference  to  internal 
affairs,  and  only  occasional  punishment  of  differing  characters 
(by  death,  expulsion,  or  the  like)  takes  place.  The  moral  and 
disciplinary  consideration  of  crime  is  entirely  absent.  There  is 
as  yet  no  proper  compulsory  state  power.5  Actions  considered 
crimes  were  necessarily  very  few,  while  intense  popular  abhor- 
rence and  "  almost  physical  loathing  "  of  the  criminal  must  have 
made  him  a  very  rare  type  of  man.6  Only  the  necessity  for 
internal  peace  (for  the  blood  feud  was  simply  civil  war  socially 
sanctioned)  strengthened  the  hands  of  society  to  substitute 
compulsory  arbitration  and  composition  for  private  vengeance, 
at  a  time  when  the  development  of  wealth  made  compensation 
possible,  and  the  increasing  cultivation  of  the  soil  made  internal 

1  Heam,  pp.  430-431.  6  Steinmetz,  Book  II,  chap.  v. 

2  Maine,  p.  374.  6  Maine,  p.  120. 

8  See  Bagehot's  Physics  and  Politics,  p.  21,  and  Heam,  p.  393. 
4  Heam,  pp  430-432. 


670  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

peace  more  and  more  indispensable.1  Composition  became  a 
favorable  factor  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  and  society,  by 
gradually  changing  certain  torts  into  crimes,  intrenched  itself, 
as  it  were,  on  a  higher  plane  of  human  existence.  The  number 
of  acts  punished  as  crimes  was  increased.  The  number  of  crimi- 
nals was  greatly  multiplied,  but  social  welfare  was  conserved 
and  individual  security  and  freedom  were  enlarged. 

No  depth  of  moral  heinousness  is  sufficient  in  itself  to  make 
an  action  criminal.  Sin  is  never  crime  unless  society  makes  it 
such.  The  mere  fact  that  laws  exist  decreeing  punishment  for 
certain  conduct  will  not  make  that  conduct  criminal.  In  the 
statute  books  of  England  and  the  United  States,  there  are  many 
penal  statutes  (Blue  Laws)  never  repealed,  but  unenforced  for 
generations.  The  acts  they  were  aimed  to  punish  are  certainly 
not  crimes  now,  and  they  may  never  have  been  crimes.  For 
it  is  not  sufficient  that  society  desire  to  punish,  make  laws  to 
punish,  or  even  try  to  punish.  Unless  it  actually  succeeds  in  pun- 
ishing, often  enough  to  make  the  average  citizen  believe  offenders 
likely  to  be  brought  to  justice,  the  act  is  not  yet  a  true  crime. 
On  the  other  hand,  social  punishment  need  not  fall  upon  a 
majority  of  offenders  to  make  their  conduct  criminal.  In  the 
United  States  to-day,  comparatively  few  men  are  executed,  or 
imprisoned,  for  the  many  murders  committed  ;  but  the  aver- 
age citizen,  not  called  upon  to  investigate  such  matters  closely, 
does  not  realize  this,  and  believes  that  "  murder  will  out,"  and 
in  general  be  punished.  Laws  need  not  exist  and  be  enforced 
to  make  the  actions  they  prohibit  crimes.  Lynch  violence  may 
do  the  work  neglected  by  the  courts  of  justice. 

The  essentials  of  crime  are  two  :  First,  the  act  must  be  one 
that  society  abhors  and  desires  to  punish  as  a  wrong  against  its 
welfare.  Second,  the  act  must  be  punished  often  enough  to  make 
the  displeasure  of  society  evident  and  its  deterrent  force  plainly 
felt.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  does  the  action  become  a  crime. 
But  if  society  is  at  all  united  in  the  intention  to  punish,  it  will  gen- 
erally succeed  in  inflicting  some  form  of  penalty,  and  this  the  more 
surely  as  social  organization  becomes  stronger  and  more  effective 

1  Steinmetz,  Book  I,  pp.  427-428;  also  Hearn,  p.  393. 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  671 

For  it  is  the  social  standard  of  right  action  that  determines 
what  conduct  shall  be  criminal.  Society  says  :  You  must  live 
up  to  a  certain  standard,  at  your  peril.  The  test  is  essentially 
an  objective  one,  and  deals  with  manifest  conduct,  not  the 
motive  behind  the  act.  A  man  thoroughly  bad  morally  need 
not  fear  punishment  if  he  keep  within  the  letter  of  the  law. 
Again,  it  matters  not  how  good  a  man's  intentions  may  be,  if 
he  breaks  the  law  he  will  be  punished  as  a  criminal ;  for  society 
thinks  he  ought  to  have  known  better,  unless,  indeed,  he  prove 
idiotic  or  insane.1  The  standard  is  not  fixed  and  unchanging, 
but  is  modified  from  age  to  age,  according  to  the  general  level 
of  knowledge,  intelligence,  and  social  morality,  and  the  actual 
needs  of  an  advancing  civilization. 

Social  evolution  implies  increasing  complexity  of  life,  a  larger 
interdependence  among  men,  and  necessitates  a  nicer  adjust- 
ment of  mutual  rights  and  duties,  which  must  be  enforced 
(largely  through  the  criminal  law),  if  society  is  to  hold  together 
and  maintain  a  healthy  growth.  "  Man,  unlike  the  lower  animals, 
has  had  to  be  his  own  domesticator."  2 

The  criminal  is  the  rebellious  social  laggard  and  must  in  some 
way  be  prevented  from  destroying,  or  seriously  harming,  the 
social  life.  There  are  many  ways  of  accomplishing  this  end  : 
by  his  death,  imprisonment,  education,  reformation ;  but  all  are 
forms  of  punishment 3  for  the  man  who  refuses  to  live  up  to  the 
standard  of  right  action  set  by  his  fellow-men,  and  the  social 
welfare  imperatively  demands  that  such  rebels  be  punished. 
With  increasing  civilization,  more  and  more  actions  become 
socially  bad,  are  perceived  to  be  injurious  by  the  common  sense 
of  the  community,  and  are  punished  as  crimes,  thus  increasing 
the  number  of  criminals. 

So  long  as  social  progress  continues,  so  long  as  there  is  growth 
from  a  lower  to  a  higher  plane  of  brotherly  love  and  mutual  help- 
fulness, so  long  as  the  rebellious  social  laggard  continues  upon 

1  Holmes,  pp.  110-113. 

2  Bagehot,  p.  51. 

8  See  the  hatred  of  Elmira  and  other  reformatory  prisoners  for  education,  the 
parole  system,  and  the  indeterminate  sentence. 


672  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

earth,  for  so  long  will  crime  continue  to  exist  and  possibly  also 
to  increase.1  That  it  has  increased  till  now  this  book  will  give 
the  evidence,  so  far,  at  least,  as  the  English-speaking  people  is 
concerned.  But  the  nature  of  crime  has  changed  and  will  con- 
tinue to  change,  from  more  to  less  heinous  offenses,  if  we  judge 
from  the  standpoint  of  present  public  opinion.  Under  the  rule 
of  law  men  have  been  slowly  and  painfully  learning  to  curb  their 
hasty  passions.  Crimes  of  force  show  a  very  great  decrease 
during  the  last  few  centuries,  and  they  are  decreasing  still. 

If  crime  shall  ever  cease  upon  earth,  it  can  be  only  when 
obedience  to  social  commands  has  become  an  overmastering 
habit  in  the  individual ; 2  when  society  has  grown  so  wise  as  to 
prohibit  only  the  true  crimes  of  its  age ;  so  strong  and  efficient 
that  the  mere  dread  of  its  displeasure  is  quite  enough  for  the 
prevention  of  evil  acts  ;  when,  in  a  word,  the  aim  of  Christianity, 
the  brotherhood  of  man,  is  realized  on  earth.  Then  social  moral- 
ity can  rise  to  higher  and  higher  planes  without  increasing  crime. 
Hitherto  the  social  mind  has  had  in  every  age  le  defaut  de  ses 
qualitis,  and  has  punished  or  tried  to  punish  as  crimes  actions 
helpful  or  at  least  not  harmful  to  the  social  welfare.3 

It  is  an  old  truth  that  the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  world 
have  been  also  its  greatest  martyrs.  New  liberty,  new  life,  have 
come  to  men  often  under  a  criminal  ban.  Are  we  wiser  than 
our  fathers  ?  Do  we  no  longer  make  these  old  mistakes  ?  Thus 
much  seems  sure.  The  nation  that  persists  in  choosing  its  crimes 
wrongly  is  on  the  highroad  to  social  degeneration  and  destruction; 

1  If  in  any  age  and  nation  a  larger  amount  of  crime  is  punished  than  in  a  later 
and  higher  stage  of  social  development,  it  is  probably  because  actions  not  rightly 
criminal  are  being  punished  in  the  former  time,  or  because  degeneration,  which 
often  brings  nonpunishment  for  even  very  dangerous  offenses,  is  setting  in  at 
the  latter  period. 

2  A  condition  practically  fulfilled  among  lowest  savage  tribes,  where  obedience 
to  a  few  fundamental  ancient  customs  is  thoroughly  instinctive  and  unreasoning, 
because  run  into  the  very  fiber  of  the  race,  by  stem  processes  of  natural  selection, 
teaching  elementary  social  necessities. 

3  The  Statutes  of  Laborers  in  England,  the  subsequent  attempts  to  make  labor 
unions  criminal,  and  the  punishments  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain  will  serve  as 
examples ;  as  will  also  the  attempts,  in  our  own  day,  to  make  trusts  as  such 
criminal,  and  not  simply  the  abuses  of  trusts. 


CRIME  AND  PUNISHMENT  673 

and  since  the  English-speaking  people  has  continued  to  grow 
more  strong,  more  united,  more  dominant  upon  the  earth,  we 
may  believe  that  it  has,  upon  the  whole,  through  many  errors, 
chosen  its  crimes  rightly,  and  that  it  will  continue  to  be,  through 
coming  years,  the  great  teacher  of  Christianity  and  of  civilization.1 

1  A  crime  and  a  form  of  crime  express  two  closely  related  yet  diverse  ideas, 
between  which  we  should  distinguish  clearly.  A  crime  is  an  act,  the  act  of  a 
criminal,  punished  by  society  as  a  wrong  against  itself.  A  form  of  crime  is  a  kind 
of  conduct  which  society  would  punish  in  this  manner,  if  the  act  were  perpetrated, 
if  the  criminal  existed.  Thus  treason  is  and  has  always  been  (as  far  back  as  we 
can  trace)  a  most  heinous  form  of  crime  among  men.  Throughout  the  centuries 
acts  of  treason  have  been  very  frequent,  and  severely  punished  as  crimes ;  but 
among  lowest  savage  hordes  and  the  most  highly  civilized  modem  nations  we 
find  almost  no  instances  of  punishment  for  this  offense.  The  traitor  has  prac- 
tically disappeared  from  the  English  criminal  statistics  during  the  last  half  cen- 
tury, and  abhorrence  of  the  traitorous  act  is  so  intense  among  lowest  savages 
that  no  one  is  found  to  commit  this  most  heinous  of  crimes.  A  form  of  conduct 
may  therefore  be  criminal  without  the  actual  infliction  of  social  punishment,  but 
such  instances  are  very  rare.  Piracy  is  an  example  for  modem  times. 

We  may  dream  of  a  nation,  in  some  future  age,  when  even  a  new  form  of 
crime  may  not  necessarily  mean  an  increase  of  criminals.  With  us,  the  transgres- 
sor is  so  very  natural  and  customary  a  result  of  the  prohibition  that  we  expect 
him  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  are  never  pleasantly  disappointed  by  his  nonappear- 
ance.  He  is  not,  however,  an  absolutely  inevitable  social  product,  provided  knowl- 
edge, intelligence,  and  morality  are  high  and  strong  enough,  and  the  habit  of 
obedience  dominant  enough  in  the  social  group. 


XXVIII 
MALE  SEXUAL  SELECTION1 

Before  proceeding  to  consider  the  various  forms  of  marriage, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  advert  to  a  very  important  biological  fact 
which  has  constituted  one  of  the  results  of  the  development  in 
man  of  his  greatly  superior  psychic  faculties.  This  fact  is  what 
may  be  called  male  sexual  selection,  or  the  transfer  to  the  male 
sex  of  the  sexual  selective  power  exercised  in  the  lower  animals 
and  in  primordial  man  by  the  female. 

The  higher  a  being  rises  in  the  scale  of  development,  the  more 
sensitive  become  all  its  faculties  and  organs.  Just  as  the  raw 
pabulum  of  animals  will  not  suffice  for  man,  and  the  rude  prepa- 
ration of  food  by  the  savage  fails  to  satisfy  the  more  refined 
palate  of  civilized  man,  so  the  development  and  refinement  of  all 
the  faculties  of  man  in  his  gradual  emergence  out  of  animality 
into  humanity,  and  his  elevation  from  barbarism  to  civilization, 
lead  him  more  and  more  to  select  his  companions  as  well  as  his 
food,  and  beget  preferences  in  the  objects  of  sexual  as  well  as  of 
gustatory  and  all  other  species  of  gratification.  Much  as  may  be, 
and  doubtless  is,  due  to  the  effects  of  the  selection  of  the  female 
sex  in  effecting  morphological  changes,  it  is  still  to  the  selection 
of  the  male  sex  that  must  be  ascribed  the  greater  part  of  those 
sociological  phenomena  which  belong  to  the  domain  of  the  repro- 
ductive forces. 

In  fact,  it  is  here  that  is  to  be  detected  one  of  the  few  dis- 
tinct and  tangible  facts  which  serve  to  separate  man  from  the 
brute  creation.  According  to  the  law  just  enunciated,  by  which 
increased  intelligence  manifests  itself  in  the  direction  of  the 
subjection  of  woman  to  man,  her  power  of  selection,  so  freely 
and  constantly  exercised  in  the  animal  state,  is  taken  away,  and 

1  From  Dynamic  Sociology,  by  Lester  F.  Ward,  Vol.  I,  pp.  613-615  (copy- 
right, 1898,  by  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  New  York). 

674 


MALE  SEXUAL  SELECTION          675 

she  loses  that  supremacy  which  she  formerly  held.  Then,  and 
throughout  the  animal  world,  the  female  sex  controlled  the  male 
in  all  matters  pertaining  to  sex,  haughtily  declining  and  success- 
fully rejecting  the  advances  of  the  latter  when  not  reciprocated. 
But  the  female  of  the  human  race  has  lost  this  scepter,  has 
yielded  to  the  cunning  appeals  of  her  male  companion  to  her  im: 
agination  and  her  reason,  and  little  by  little  surrendered  both 
her  mind  and  body  to  his  control.  Once  she  ruled  over  him  by 
reason  of  his  passion,  which  prompted  him  to  make  perpetual 
demands  upon  her  for  the  favor  that  she  alone  could  confer  ; 
now  he  rules  over  her  body  and  soul  by  reason  of  a  thousand 
desires  within  her,  which  prompt  her  to  make  perpetual  demands 
upon  him,  as  lord  of  the  universe,  for  that  protection  and  those 
favors  which  he  alone  can  confer.  The  transition  from  the  animal 
to  the  human  state  has  wrought  a  complete  revolution  in  all  the 
sexual  relations,  and  transferred  the  selective  power  absolutely 
from  the  female  to  the  male  sex.  In  no  other  department  has 
there  been  so  great  a  reversal  of  natural  law. 

This  important  fact  of  the  transition,  in  man  alone  of  all 
animals,  from  female  to  male  selection  may  not  only  be  plainly 
seen  in  its  direct  results,  but  is  significantly  attested  in  certain 
of  its  indirect  ones.  Among  others,  it  is  interesting  to  observe 
that  just  as  the  form  of  sexual  selection  is  the  opposite  in  man 
from  what  it  is  in  the  lower  animals,  so,  as  indeed  might  be  ex- 
pected, the  male  beauty,  due  to  female  selection  in  the  latter, 
becomes  female  beauty  due  to  male  selection  in  the  former,  —  a 
fact  which  at  once  affords  a  striking  proof  of  this  transition,  and 
of  the  modifying  power  of  the  selective  process. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  here  again,  as  so  many  times 
before,  we  see  in  the  progress  of  true  civilization  the  unmistak- 
able tendency  toward  the  ultimate  restoration  of  the  primeval 
state  of  nature.  Once  more  the  cyclical  character  of  our  arti- 
ficial social  system  is  clearly  revealed.  Even  'in  our  own  times 
we  are  beginning  to  observe  the  most  unmistakable  signs  of  the 
eventual  resumption  by  woman  of  her  lost  scepter,  and  of  her 
restoration  to  that  empire  over  the  emotional  nature  of  man 
which  the  females  of  nearly  all  other  animals  exercise. 


XXIX 

ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN 
SELECTION  i 

The  extreme  fluidity  of  our  heterogeneous  population  is  im- 
pressed upon  us  by  every  phenomenon  of  social  life  here  in 
America.  We  imagine  the  people  of  Europe,  on  the  other  hand, 
after  scores  of  generations  of  stable  habitation,  to  have  settled 
themselves  permanently  and  contentedly  into  place.  This  is  an 
entirely  erroneous  assumption.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  are 
almost  as  mobile  as  our  own  American  types.  There  are  two 
ways  in  which  demographic  crystallization  may  have  taken  place 
A  people  may  have  become  rigid  horizontally,  divided  into  castes, 
or  social  strata ;  or  it  may  be  geographically  segregated  into 
localized  communities,  varying  in  size  all  the  way  from  the  iso- 
lated hamlet  to  the  highly  individualized  nation.  Both  of  these 
forms  of  crystallization  are  breaking  down  to-day  under  the  pres- 
sure of  modern  industrialism  and  democracy,  in  Europe  as  well 
as  in  America.  Nor  is  it  true  that  the  recency  of  our  American 
social  life  has  made  the  phenomena  of  change  more  marked  here 
than  abroad.  In  fact,  with  the  relics  of  the  old  regime  on  every 
.hand,  the  present  tendencies  in  Europe  are  the  more  startling  of 
the  two  by  reason  of  the  immediate  contrast.  Demographic  pro- 
cesses are  at  work  which  promise  mighty  results  for  the  future. 
These  are  not  cataclysmic,  like  the  French  Revolution ;  but  be- 
ing well-nigh  universal,  the  fact  that  they  are  slow  moving  should 
not  blind  us  to  their  ultimate  effects.  Such  movements  threaten 
to  break  up  not  only  the  horizontal  social  stratification  but  the 
vertical  geographical  cleavage  of  locality  and  nationality  as  well. 
Obviously  any  disturbance  of  these  at  once  involves  destruction 
of  the  racial  individuality  of  the  continent  at  the  same  time.  For 

1  From  The  Races  of  Europe,  by  William  Z.  Ripley,  chap,  xx  (copyright,  1899, 
by  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  New  York). 

676 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION    677 

this  reason,  many  phases  of  social  analysis  appertain  directly  to 
the  sphere  of  natural  science.  The  anthropologist  and  sociologist 
alike  are  called  upon  to  take  cognizance  of  the  same  phenomena. 
The  physical  and  social  sciences  are  equally  involved  in  the  de- 
termination of  their  laws.  Certain  problems  of  city  life  are  fore- 
most among  these  questions  which  lie  on  the  border  line  between 
what  were  once  widely  separated  sciences. 

The  most  conservative  societies  in  Europe  are  really  to-day  a 
seething  mass  of  moving  particles,  viewed  with  the  statistical 
eye.  To  borrow  a  familiar  figure,  a  great  population  almost  any- 
where is  like  the  atmosphere ;  even  when  apparently  most  qui- 
escent, in  the  sunlight  of  investigation  revealing  itself  surcharged 
with  myriad  notes  in  ceaseless  agitation.  These  particles,  micro- 
scopic or  human,  as  the  case  may  be,  are  swept  along  in  cur- 
rents determined  both  in  their  direction  and  intensity  by  definite 
causes.  With  men,  the  impelling  forces  are  reducible  mainly  to 
economic  and  social  factors.  Most  powerful  of  these  movements 
of  population  to-day  is  the  constant  trend  from  the  rural  districts 
to  the  city.  Its  origin  is  perfectly  apparent.  Economically  it  is 
induced  by  the  advantages  of  cooperation  in  labor ;  perhaps  it 
would  be  nearer  the  truth  to  say,  by  the  necessity  of  aggregation 
imposed  by  nineteenth-century  industrialism.  This  economic  in- 
centive to  migration  to  the  towns  is  strengthened  by  the  social 
advantages  of  urban  life,  the  attractions  of  the  crowd ;  often 
potent  enough  in  themselves,  as  we  know,  to  hold  people  to  the 
tenement,  despite  the  opportunity  for  advancement,  expansion, 
or  superior  comfort  afforded  elsewhere  outside  the  city  walls. 
The  effect  of  these  two  combined  motives,  the  economic  plus 
the  social,  is  to  produce  a  steady  drift  of  population  toward  the 
towns.  This  has  a  double  significance.  It  promises  to  dissolve 
the  bonds  of  geographical  individuality,  nay,  even  of  nationality ; 
for  a  political  frontier  is  no  bar  against  such  immigration,  pro- 
vided the  incentive  be  keen  enough.  At  the  same  time  it  opens 
the  way  for  an  upheaval  of  the  horizontal  or  social  stratification 
of  population,  since  in  the  city  advancement  or  degradation  in 
the  scale  of  living  are  alike  possible,  as  never  in  the  quiet  life  of 
the  country. 


678  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  sudden  growth  of  great  cities  is  the  first  result  of  the 
phenomenon  of  migration  which  we  have  to  note.  We  think  of 
this  as  essentially  an  American  problem.  We  comfort  ourselves 
in  our  failures  of  municipal  administration  with  that  thought. 
This  is  a  grievous  deception.  Most  of  the  European  cities  have 
increased  in  population  more  rapidly  than  in  America.  Shaw 
has  emphasized  the  same  fact  in  his  brilliant  work  on  Municipal 
Government  in  Europe.  This  is  particularly  true  of  great  Ger- 
man urban  centers.  Berlin  has  outgrown  our  own  metropolis, 
New  York,  in  less  than  a  generation,  having  in  twenty-five  years 
added  as  many  actual  new  residents  as  Chicago,  and  twice  as 
many  as  Philadelphia.  Hamburg  has  gained  twice  as  many  in 
population  since  1875  as  Boston  ;  Leipsic  has  distanced  St.  Louis. 
The  same  demographic  outburst  has  occurred  in  the  smaller 
German  cities  as  well.  Cologne  has  gained  the  lead  over  Cleve- 
land, Buffalo,  and  Pittsburg,  although  in  1 880  it  was  the  smallest 
of  the  four.  Magdeburg  has  grown  faster  than  Providence  in 
the  last  ten  years.  Diisseldorf  has  likewise  outgrown  St.  Paul. 
Beyond  the  confines  of  the  German  Empire,  from  Norway  to 
Italy,  the  same  is  true.  Stockholm  has  doubled  its  population ; 
Copenhagen  has  increased  two  and  one-half  times  ;  Christiania 
has  trebled  its  numbers  —  in  a  generation.  Rome  has  increased 
from  184,000  in  1860  to  450,000  in  1894.  Vienna,  including  its 
suburbs,  has  grown  three  times  over  within  the  same  period. 
Paris,  from  1881  to  1891,  absorbed  four  fifths  of  the  total  increase 
of  population  for  all  of  France  within  the  same  decade. 

Contemporaneously  with  this  marvelous  growth  of  urban  cen- 
ters, we  observe  a  progressive  depopulation  of  the  rural  dis- 
tricts. What  is  going  on  in  our  New  England  States,  especially 
in  Massachusetts,  is  entirely  characteristic  of  large  areas  in 
Europe.  Take  France,  for  example.  Most  of  us  are  aware  of 
the  distressing  demographic  condition  of  affairs  in  that  country. 
One  of  the  finest  populations  in  Europe  is  almost  at  a  standstill 
numerically;  nay,  some  years  show  an  actual  decrease  of  popu- 
lation. This  is  not  due  to  emigration  abroad,  for  the  French  are 
notably  backward  in  this  respect.  Nor  can  it  be  ascribed  to  a 
heavy  mortality.  The  death  rate  has  appreciably  fallen  during 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION"  679 

this  century,  in  conformity  with  the  great  advances  made  in 
hygiene  and  sanitation.  The  marriage  rate  is  not  lower  than 
usual.  Yet  for  some  reason  children  do  not  come  to  cheer  the 
land.  The  practical  result  is  that  Germany,  the  great  political 
rival,  seems  destined  to  control  the  European  military  situation 
in  future.  Such  is  the  condition,  viewing  the  country  as  a  whole. 
Studying  it  in  detail,  the  evil  is  still  more  magnified ;  for,  with  a 
stationary  population  for  the  entire  country,  the  cities  continue 
to  grow,  draining  the  lifeblood  of  the  jural  districts  year  by 
year,  with  ever-increasing  vigor.  The  towns  are  absorbing  even 
more  than  the  natural  increment  of  country  population ;  they  are 
drawing  off  the  middle  aged  as  well  as  the  young.  Thus  great 
areas  are  being  actually  depopulated.  For  example,  in  the  decade 
from  1 88 1  to  1891,  the  French  cities  of  thirty  thousand  inhabit- 
ants or  over  added  to  their  respective  numbers  more  than  three 
times  as  many  as  the  total  increase  of  population  for  the  entire 
country.  Even  their  due  proportion  of  the  abnormally  slow  in- 
crease was  denied  to  the  rural  districts  ;  the  ten  years  left  them 
less  densely  populated  than  before.  In  1846  almost  half  of  the 
eighty-eight  departments  in  France  had  a  larger  population 
than  they  have  to-day.  Paris  alone,  the  metropolis,  has,  as  we 
have  already  observed,  absorbed  four  fifths  of  the  entire  increase 
of  the  population  during  the  decade  to  1891;  the  remainder  was 
added  to  the  other  large  cities  in  proportion  to  their  size.  The 
British  Isles  exemplify  the  same  tendency.  More  than  half  of 
the  English  towns  with  populations  over  twenty-five  thousand 
are  the  product  of  this  century.  Sixty  out  of  one  hundred  and 
five  of  these  cities  have  arisen  since  1825.  This  is,  of  course, 
due  to  the  extension  of.  the  factory  system  in  great  measure. 
The  same  depopulation  of  the  rural  districts  is  noted.  Ten  rural 
counties  in  England  and  Wales  alone  have  fewer  inhabitants 
than  in  1851.  The  fact  is  that  Western  Europe  is  being  gradu- 
ally transformed  into  a  huge  factory  town.  It  is  being  fed  less 
from  the  products  of  its  own  territory.  The  wheat  fields  of  the 
Americas,  India,  and  Australia  are  contributing  what  formerly 
was  raised  by  the  peasantry  at  home.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
the  trend  is  toward  the  cities. 


680  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

This  growth  of  city  population  has,  then,  taken  place  largely 
at  the  expense  of  the  country.  It  must  be  so,  for  the  urban  birth 
rates  are  not  enough  in  excess  of  the  mortality,  save  in  a  few 
cases,  to  account  for  more  than  a  small  part  of  the  wonderful 
growth  which  we  have  instanced.  The  towns  are  being  con- 
stantly recruited  from  without.  Nor  is  it  an  indiscriminate  flock- 
ing cityward  which  is  taking  place.  A  process  of  selection  is  at 
work  on  a  grand  scale.  The  great  majority  to-day  who  are  pour- 
ing into  the  cities  are  those  who,  like  the  emigrants  to  the  United 
States  in  the  old  days  of  natural  migration,  come  because  they 
have  the  physical  equipment  and  the  mental  disposition  to  seek 
a  betterment  of  their  fortunes  away  from  home.  Of  course,  an 
appreciable  contingent  of  such  migrant  types  is  composed  of  the 
merely  discontented,  of  the  restless,  and  the  adventurous  ;  but 
in  the  main  the  best  blood  of  the  land  it  is  which  feeds  into  the 
arteries  of  city  life. 

Another  more  certain  mode  of  proof  is  possible  for  demon- 
strating that  the  population  of  cities  is  largely  made  up  either  of 
direct  immigrants  from  the  country,  or  of  their  immediate  de- 
scendants. Dr.  Ammon,  of  Carlsruhe,  in  a  most  suggestive  work 
which  we  have  constantly  cited  in  these  pages,  has  carefully 
analyzed  in  detail  the  populations  of  certain  representative  cities 
in  Baden.  In  Carlsruhe  and  Freiburg,  for  example,  he  found  that 
among  the  conscripts  examined  for  military  service  an  over- 
whelming proportion  of  the  residents  were  either  immigrants 
themselves  or  else  the  children  of  immigrants.  Less  than  eight 
per  cent,  in  fact,  were  the  children  of  city-born  parents,  —  that  is 
to  say,  were  the  outcome  of  three  generations  of  continued  urban 
residence.  In  a  similar  investigation  of  other  German  cities, 
Hansen  found  that  nearly  one  half  their  residents  were  of  direct 
country  descent.  In  London  it  has  been  shown  that  over  one 
third  of  its  population  are  immigrants,  and  in  Paris  the  same  is 
true.  For  thirty  of  the  principal  cities  of  Europe  it  has  been  cal- 
culated that  only  about  one  fifth  of  their  increase  is  from  the  loins 
of  their  own  people,  the  overwhelming  majority  being  of  country 
birth.  One  direct  result  of  this  state  of  affairs  is  that  cities  as  a 
rule  contain  more  than  their  due  proportion  of  middle-aged  adults. 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION    68 1 

They  do  not  immigrate  until  they  have  attained  majority ;  they 
do  not  marry  till  comparatively  late  in  life,  so  that  children  and 
young  persons  form  an  unusually  small  percentage  of  the  entire 
population.  The  aged,  moreover,  often  betake  themselves  to  the 
country  after  the  stress  of  life  is  abated.  They  return  to  their 
place  of  birth,  there  to  spend  the  last  days  in  peace.  These 
latter,  together  with  those  who  are  driven  back  to  their  homes 
by  the  fierce  competitions  of  city  life,  constitute  a  certain  feeble 
counter-current  of  migration  from  the  city  outward.  Yet  this  is 
insignificant  compared  with  the  inflowing  tide.  Thousands  are 
yearly  pouring  into  the  towns,  while  those  who  emerge  may  be 
numbered  by  hundreds,  perhaps  even  by  scores.  The  fact  is  that 
the  great  majority  of  these  immigrants  either  fall  by  the  way, 
or  else  their  line,  lacking  vitality,  dwindling  in  numbers  either 
through  late  marriages  and  few  children,  or  perhaps  the  op- 
posite extreme  of  overproduction  and  abnormal  mortality,  comes 
to  naught  in  a  few  generations.  Thus  the  steady  influx  of  im- 
migration goes  on.  Truly,  cities  are,  as  has  been  observed, 
"consumers  of  population."  Our  problem  here  is  to  determine 
whether  such  consumption  is  being  applied  equally  to  all  our  racial 
types  ;  if  not,  the  future  of  Europe,  ethnically,  cannot  but  be 
profoundly  affected.  The  future  character  of  European  peoples 
will  be  largely  determined  by  this  circumstance.  From  the  point 
of  view  of  relative  increase,  the  German  nation  is  undoubtedly 
in  the  lead,  especially  as  compared  with  the  French.  Equally 
important,  however,  is  it  to  consider  the  relative  destruction 
which  is  annually  being  waged.  If,  as  is  asserted,  these  prolific 
Teutons  are  preeminently  a  city  type,  and  if  thereby  they  lay 
themselves  open  to  decimation,  the  future  balance  of  power  in 
Europe  may  not  be  so  completely  disturbed  after  all. 

These  various  social  phenomena  have  been  most  ably  corre- 
lated in  a  rather  suggestive  broad-line  sketch  of  a  mode  of  social 
selection  given  by  Hansen.  Basing  his  hypothesis  upon  data 
derived  in  the  main  from  the  cities  of  Germany,  he  distinguishes 
in  any  given  population  what  he  designates  as  three  degrees  of 
vital  and  psychic  capacity  respectively.  The  vitality  is  measured 
in  each  class  by  the  ratio  of  the  birth  to  the  death  rate.  The 


682  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

first  vitality  rank  consists  of  the  well-to-do  country  people,  leading 
a  tranquil  existence,  healthy  in  mind  and  body,  free  alike  from 
dread  or  aspiration.  This  class  increases  rapidly  by  birth,  and 
loses  relatively  few  by  premature  mortality.  It  has  enough  and 
to  spare  in  numbers.  Both  country  and  city  alike  depend  upon 
it  for  future  growth.  Below  this  is  a  second  vitality  rank,  com- 
posed of  the  middle  classes  in  the  towns.  Herein  we  find  a 
somewhat  lower  birth  rate ;  ambition  and  possibility  of  social 
advancement  become  effective  in  limiting  the  size  of  families. 
Coincident  with  this  is  a  low  death  rate,  owing  to  material  com- 
fort and  a  goodly  intelligence.  This  class  holds  its  own  in  num- 
bers, perhaps  contributes  slightly  to  swell  the  census  returns 
from  year  to  year.  Below  this  lies  the  third  vitality  rank,  com- 
posed of  the  great  mass  of  the  urban  populations,  the  unskilled 
labor  and  the  poorer  artisans.  Here  occur  an  abnormally  high 
birth  rate,  little  self-restraint,  and,  through  ignorance  and  pov- 
erty, an  inordinately  high  rate  of  mortality.  This  is  the  portion 
of  the  city  population  continually  recruited  from  the  country  or 
through  rejects  from  the  superior  classes,  —  those,  that  is  to  say, 
who  fail  in  the  intense  competition  of  the  upper  grades  of  society. 
Measured  by  vitality  alone,  it  would  appear  that  the  first  rank 
we  have  described  —  the  average  country  population  —  was  the 
ideal  one.  Applying,  however,  the  tests  of  intellectual  capacity, 
Hansen  discovers  curious  cross-cleavages.  For  the  country  popu- 
lation is  being  continually  drained  of  its  best  blood,  —  those  who 
are  energetic  or  ambitious  in  the  majority  of  cases  leaving  their 
homes  to  seek  success  in  the  city.  Thus  an  intellectual  residuum 
is  left  on  the  soil,  representing  merely  the  average  intelligence ; 
perhaps,  if  near  a  great  metropolis,  even  falling  below  the  normal 
in  this  respect.  Those  in  their  turn  who  emigrate  to  the  towns 
are  speedily  sorted  by  inexorable  fate.  Some  achieve  success  ; 
the  majority  perhaps  go  to  swell  the  other  middle  classes  ;  or 
else,  entirely  worsted  in  the  struggle,  land  in  a  generation  or  two 
in  the  lowest  ranks  of  all.  Thus  a  continual  tide  of  migration 
becomes  necessary  to  insure  stability  in  numbers  in  the  entire 
population.  This  ingenious  scheme,  too  simple  of  course  to  be 
entirely  correct,  as  Giddings  has  suggestively  pointed  out,  does 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN   SELECTION     683 

nevertheless  contain  a  germ  of  truth.  Our  problem  is  to  test  its 
applicability  to  modern  conditions  by  a  study  of  purely  anthropo- 
logical facts. 

The  first  physical  characteristic  of  urban  populations,  as  com- 
pared with  those  of  country  districts,  which  we  have  to  note,  is 
their  tendency  toward  that  shape  of  head  characteristic  of  two 
of  our  racial  types,  Teutonic  and  Mediterranean  respectively.  It 
seems  as  if  for  some  reason  the  broad-headed  Alpine  race  was 
distinctly  a  rural  type.  This  we  might  have  expected  from  the 
persistency  with  which  it  clings,  as  we  have  seen  all  over  Europe, 
to  the  mountainous  or  otherwise  isolated  areas.  Thirty  years 
ago  an  observer  in  the  ethnically  Alpine  district  of  south  central 
France  noted  an  appreciable  difference  between  town  and  coun- 
try in  the  head  form  of  the  people.  In  a  half  dozen  of  the 
smaller  cities  his  observations  pointed  to  a  greater  prevalence  of 
the  long-headed  type  than  in  the  country  round  about.  In  the 
same  year,  in  the  city  of  Modena,  in  Italy,  investigations  of  the 
town  and  country  populations,  instituted  for  entirely  different 
purposes,  brought  the  same  peculiarity  to  light.  These  facts 
escaped  notice,  however,  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  century.  In 
entire  ignorance  of  them,  in  1889  a  gifted  young  professor  in 
the  University  of  Montpellier  in  southern  France,  having  for  some 
years  been  occupied  in  outlining  various  theories  of  social  selec- 
tion, stumbled  upon  a  surprising  natural  phenomenon.  On  ex- 
amination of  a  considerable  series  of  skulls,  dating  from  various 
periods  in  the  last  two  hundred  years,  which  had  been  preserved 
in  crypts  at  Montpellier,  he  found  that  the  upper  classes  as  com- 
pared with  the  plebeian  population,  contained  a  much  larger  per- 
centage of  long-headed  crania.  These  crania  of  the  aristocracy, 
in  other  words,  seemed  to  conform  much  more  nearly  to  the 
head  form  of  the  Teutonic  race  than  those  of  the  common 
people.  Additional  interest  was  awakened  in  the  following  year 
by  the  researches  of  Dr.  Ammon,  of  Carlsruhe,  who,  working 
again  in  entire  independence  upon  measurements  of  thousands 
of  conscripts  of  the  grand  duchy  of  Baden,  discovered  radical 
differences  here  between  the  head  form  in  city  and  country,  and 
between  the  upper  and  lower  classes  in  the  larger  towns.  Several 


684  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

explanations  of  this  were  possible.  The  direct  influence  of  urban 
life  might  conceivably  have  brought  it  about,  acting  through 
superior  education,  habits  of  life,  and  the  like.  There  was  no 
psychological  basis  for  this  assumption.  Another  tenable  hypoth- 
esis was  that  in  these  cities,  situated,  as  we  have  endeavored 
to  show,  in  a  land  where  two  racial  types  of  population  were 
existing  side  by  side,  the  city  for  some  reason  exerted  superior 
powers  of  attraction  upon  the  long-headed  race.  If  this  were 
true,  then  by  a  combined  process  of  social  and  racial  selections, 
Carlsruhe,  Freiburg,  Mannheim,  and  the  other  towns  would  be 
continually  drawing  unto  themselves  that  tall  and  blond  Teutonic 
type  of  population  which,  as  history  teaches  us,  has  dominated 
social  and  political  affairs  in  Europe  for  centuries.  This  sug- 
gested itself  as  the  probable  solution  of  the  question ;  and  in- 
vestigations all  over  Europe  during  the  last  five  years  have  been 
directed  to  the  further  analysis  of  the  matter.  This  was  not  an 
entirely  new  discovery  even  for  Germany ;  the  same  fact  had 
been  previously  noted  in  Wurtemberg,  that  the  peasantry  were 
noticeably  rounder-headed  than  the  upper  classes.  Yet  Ammon 
undoubtedly  first  gave  detailed  proof  of  its  existence,  basing  it 
upon  a  great  number  of  physical  measurements;  and  he  un- 
doubtedly first  recognized  its  profound  significance  for  the  future. 
To  him  belongs  the  honor  of  the  discovery  of  the  so-called  "  Am- 
mon 's  law,"  that  the  Teutonic  race  betrays  almost  everywhere  a 
marked  penchant  for  city  life.  This  is  all  the  more  surprising,  as 
Tacitus  tells  us  that  the  ancient  Germans,  unlike  the  Italians, 
were  strongly  imbued  with  a  hatred  of  communal  existence.  We 
have  no  time  to  give  in  detail  all  the  evidence  which  has  been 
accumulated  in  favor  of  its  validity.  The  fact  of  greater  frequency 
of  the  long-headed  type  in  town  populations,  as  compared  with 
rural  districts,  has  been  established  by  Lapouge  in  a  great  num- 
ber of  investigations  all  through  central  and  southern  France, 
and  in  Brittany  his  data  are  being  confirmed  by  Muffang.  Col- 
lignon,  foremost  authority  upon  the  physical  anthropology  of 
France,  gives  his  adherence  to  it  as  a  general  rule,  finding  it 
applicable  to  Bordeaux  and  nearly  all  the  cities  of  the  southwest. 
It  is  true  of  Paris  and  Lyons  especially,  the  department  of  the 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN   SELECTION     685 

Seine  being  well  below  the  average  for  France  and  for  the  neigh- 
boring departments.  It  seems  to  hold  true  in  Vienna,  which 
with  its  suburbs  forms  a  little  islet  of  Teutonic  long-headedness 
in  Austria,  and  Ranke  has  proved  the  same  for  Munich.  In 
northern  Italy  the  long-headedness  is  almost  universally  more 
prevalent  in  all  the  cities,  although  the  opposite  is  more  often 
true  south  of  Rome.  In  Spain  the  only  indication  of  the  law  is 
offered  by  Madrid,  where  nearly  seven  hundred  conscripts  have 
been  measured  in  detail.  In  this  latter  country,  as  in  the  British 
Isles,  in  southern  Italy,  as  we  have  observed,  and  in  Scandinavia, 
—  everywhere,  in  fact,  on  the  outskirts  of  Europe  where  the 
Alpine  broad-headed  race  is  but  sparsely  represented,  we  find 
the  contrasts  in  head  form  between  city  and  country  absent  in 
great  measure.  Observations  on  nearly  five  hundred  American 
college  students  have  not  yielded  me  any  differences  in  this  re- 
spect. Only  where  the  Alpine  race  forms  an  appreciable  element 
in  the  population  does  "Ammon's  law"  appear  to  hold  true. 

The  circumstance  which  we  have  mentioned,  that  only  in 
those  portions  of  Europe  where  the  Alpine  broad-headed  type  is 
strongly  in  evidence  do  we  find  a  more  prevalent  long-headedness 
in  the  city  populations,  suggests  a  criticism,  first  made  by  Livi 
in  his  superb  monograph  on  Italy,  upon  the  somewhat  extrav- 
agant claims  to  the  universality  of  "Ammon's  law"  made  by 
ardent  disciples  of  the  school  of  so-called  "anthropo-sociolo- 
gists."  It  is  this :  City  populations  are  the  inevitable  result  of 
great  intermixture  of  blood  ;  they  of  necessity  contain  a  hodge- 
podge of  all  the  ethnic  elements  which  lie  within  the  territory 
tributary  to  them,  which,  in  other  words,  lie  within  what  La- 
pouge  has  aptly  termed  their  "spheres  of  attraction."  As  a 
whole,  one  should  not  expect  to  find  the  extreme  individuality  of 
type  in  the  cities  which  can  persist  alone  in  the  isolated  areas 
free  from  ethnic  intermixture.  If  as  in  Baden,  in  Brittany,  or 
along  the  Rhone  valley,  an  extremely  broad-headed  type  of  pop- 
ulation is  localized  in  the  mountains,  as  we  know  it  is  all  over 
Europe,  while  along  the  rivers  and  on  the  seacoast  are  found 
many  representatives  of  an  immigrant  Teutonic  long-headed 
people,  it  would  not  be  surprising  that  cities  located  on  the 


686  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

border  line  of  the  two  areas  should  contain  a  majority  of  human 
types  intermediate  between  the  two  extremes  on  either  side. 
These  city  populations  would  naturally  be  longer  headed  than 
the  pure  Alpine  race  behind  them  in  the  mountains,  and  coinci- 
dently  broader  headed  than  the  pure  Teutons  along  the  rivers 
and  on  the  seacoast.  The  experience  of  Italy  is  instructive.  In 
this  country  the  transition  from  the  pure  Alpine  broad-headed 
population  in  the  north  to  an  equally  pure  and  long-headed 
Mediterranean  type  in  the  south  is  perfectly  regular.  It  has 
been  established  that  while  the  cities  in  the  north  are  less  broad 
headed  than  the  country,  in  mid-Italy  no  appreciable  difference 
between  the  two  exists  ;  and  in  the  south,  the  cities,  being  ever 
near  the  mean  for  the  country  as  a  whole,  actually  contain  fewer 
long-headed  individuals  than  the  rural  districts.  This  consider- 
ation, which  no  statistician  can  fail  to  keep  in  mind,  seems,  how- 
ever, to  be  insufficient  to  account  for  the  entire  phenomenon, 
especially  north  of  the  Alps.  We  are  forced  to  the  conclusion, 
in  other  words,  that  there  is  some  mental  characteristic  6f  the 
long-headed  race  or  types — either  their  energy,  ambition,  or  hardi- 
ness —  which  makes  them  peculiarly  prone  to  migrate  from  the 
country  to  the  city ;  or  else,  what  would  compass  the  same  result, 
a  peculiar  disinclination  on  the  part  of  the  broad-headed  Alpine 
race  of  central  Europe  thus  to  betake  itself  to  the  towns.  The 
result  in  either  case  would  be  to  leave  the  fate  of  the  urban  popu- 
lations to  be  determined  more  and  more  by  the  long-headed  type. 
A  second  mode  of  proof  of  the  peculiar  tendency  of  the  long- 
headed type  to  gravitate  toward  the  city  is  based  upon  the  de- 
tailed study  of  individuals,  tracing  each  person  from  his  place  of 
birth,  or  from  generation  to  generation,  from  the  rural  origin  to 
the  final  urban  residence.  Dr.  Ammon  divided  his  conscripts 
into  three  classes  :  first,  the  urban,  those  whose  fathers  were  of 
city  birth,  as  well  as  themselves ;  second,  the  semi-urban,  compris- 
ing those  born  in  cities,  but  whose  fathers  were  immigrants  from 
the  country  ;  and,  third,  the  semi-rural,  who,  born  in  the  coun- 
try, had  themselves  taken  up  an  abode  in  the  city.  Comparing 
these  three  classes  with  those  who  were  still  domiciled  in  the 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION     687 

country,  a  regularly  increasing  long  headedness  was  apparent  in 
each  generation.  Lapouge  and  his  disciples  in  France  are  now 
collecting  much  valuable  information  upon  this  point,  which 
cannot  fail  to  be  suggestive  when  accumulated  in  sufficient 
amount.  Everything  goes  to  prove  a  slight  but  quite  general 
tendency  toward  this  peculiar  physical  characteristic  in  the 
town  populations,  or  in  the  migratory  class,  which  has  either  the 
courage,  the  energy,  or  the  physical  ability  to  seek  its  fortunes 
at  .a  distance  from  its  rural  birthplace. 

Is  this  phenomenon,  the  segregation  of  a  long-headed  physical 
type  in  city  populations,  merely  the  manifestation  of  a  restless 
tendency  on  the  part  of  the  Teutonic  race  to  reassert  itself  in 
the  new  phases  of  nineteenth-century  competition  ?  All  through 
history  this  type  has  been  characteristic  of  the  dominant  classes, 
especially  in  military  and  political,  perhaps  rather  than  purely 
intellectual,  affairs.  All  the  leading  dynasties  of  Europe  have 
long  been  recruited  from  its  ranks.  The  contrast  of  this  type, 
whose  energy  has  carried  it  all  over  Europe,  with  the  persist- 
ently sedentary  Alpine  race  is  very  marked.  A  certain  passivity 
or  patience  is  characteristic  of  the  Alpine  peasantry.  This  is 
true  all  the  way  from  northwestern  Spain,  where  Tubino  notes 
its  degeneration  into  morosity  in  the  peasantry,  as  far  as  Russia, 
where  the  great  inert  Slavic  horde  of  northeastern  Europe 
submits  with  abject  resignation  to  the  political  despotism  of  the 
house  of  the  Romanoffs.  Ordinarily  a  negative  factor  in  politics, 
always  socially  conservative,  this  race  when  once  aroused  be- 
comes irresistible.  As  a  rule,  not  characterized  by  the  domineering 
spirit  of  the  Teuton,  this  Alpine  type  makes  a  comfortable  and 
contented  neighbor,  a  resigned  and  peaceful  subject.  Whether 
this  rather  negative  character  of  the  Alpine  race  is  entirely  in- 
nate, or  whether  it  is  in  part,  like  many  of  its  social  phenomena, 
merely  a  reflection  from  the  almost  invariably  inhospitable 
habitat  in  which  it  has  long  been  isolated,  we  may  not  pretend 
to  decide. 

The  peculiar  temperament  of  the  Alpine  population  comes  to 
the  surface  in  political  affairs,  being  attested  by  great  conservatism. 


688  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

This  reactionary  instinct  is  in  the  long  run  far  more  common 
to  all  human  nature,  I  believe,  than  is  generally  supposed;  in 
the  Alpine  Celt  it  is  developed  or  conserved,  if  you  please,  to 
a  marked  degree.  Socially,  the  peculiarities  of  disposition  we 
have  mentioned  are  of  even  greater  importance.  In  fact,  the 
future  of  the  type  depends  largely  upon  this  circumstance.  The 
most  persistent  attribute  of  the  Alpine  Celt  is  his  extreme  attach- 
ment to  the  soil,  or,  perhaps  better,  to  locality.  He  seems  to  be 
a  sedentary  typeflar  excellence  ;  he  seldom  migrates,  except  after 
great  provocation,  so  that,  once  settled,  he  clings  to  his  patri- 
mony through  all  persecution,  climatic  or  human.  If  he  migrates 
to  the  cities,  as  does  the  "  mobile  "  Teuton,  he  generally  returns 
home  to  the  country  to  spend  his  last  days  in  peace.  Such  re- 
emigration  of  the  Alpine  type  late  in  life  is  in  fact  offered  by 
Collignon  as  the  main  explanation  for  the  prevalence  of  the  long- 
headed variety  in  the  towns  to-day.  He  inclines  to  this  view 
rather  than  to  the  theory  that  it  is  due  to  the  greater  number  of 
the  immigrant  Teutons,  as  Ammon  and  Lapouge  are  disposed  to 
maintain.  At  all  events,  whichever  explanation  be  true,  the  fact 
that  mental  differences  between  our  racial  types  exist,  if  they 
become  accentuated  with  the  ever-increasing  pressure  of  civi- 
lization, cannot  but  profoundly  affect  the  future  complexion  of 
European  populations.  A  phase  of  racial  or  social  competition  of 
such  magnitude  that  we  hesitate  to  predict  its  possible  effects  is 
at  once  suggested. 

Let  us  now  for  a  moment  take  up  the  consideration  of  a 
second  physical  characteristic  of  city  populations,  viz.  stature. 
Some  interesting  points  are  concerned  herein.  The  apparently 
contradictory  testimony  in  this  respect  becomes  in  itself  highly 
suggestive,  I  think,  for  the  student  of  social  problems.  A  few 
of  the  older  observers  found  that  city  populations  sometimes 
surpassed  those  of  the  country  in  the  average  of  bodily  height. 
Thus  Quetelet  and  Villerme  discovered  such  a  superiority  of 
stature  in  the  Belgian  cities,  amounting  to  several  centimeters. 
From  this  coincidence  Quetelet  derived  a  law  to  the  effect  that 
the  superior  advantages  of  urban  residence  were  directly  reflected 
in  the  physical  development  of  the  people.  This  hypothesis  is  now 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION     689 

definitely  disproved  by  nearly  all  the  data  available.  Ammon, 
in  Baden,  to  be  sure,  finds  a  higher  average  stature  in  the  larger 
towns  of  that  duchy.  He  ascribes  it  to  a  greater  frequency  of 
the  tall  Teutonic  type.  Switzerland,  also,  has  the  taller  popu- 
lations, as  a  rule,  in  its  cities.  Thus  Berne,  Lucerne,  Zurich, 
Basle,  Lausanne,  and  Neuchatel  all  yield  average  statures  appre- 
ciably above  those  in  their  respective  cantons.  In  Basle  the 
superiority  of  the  townsmen  is  upward  of  three  centimeters  ; 
that  is  to  say,  about  an  inch  and  a  quarter.  With  the  sole  ex- 
ception of  these  two  countries  and  of  three  cities  in  Hungary, 
the  exact  opposite  of  this  rule  is  demonstrated  by  all  the  later 
investigations.  If  there  be  a  law  at  all  in  respect  of  average 
statures,  it  demonstrates  rather  the  depressing  effect  of  city 
life  than  the  reverse.  For  example,'  Hamburg  is  far  below  the 
average  for  Germany;  Dunant  finds  it  true  in  Geneva;  Pagliani 
observed  it  in  Turin.  The  city  of  Madrid  contains  almost  the 
shortest  male  population  in  all  Spain;  only  one  province,  Valla- 
dolid,  standing  slightly  below  it.  Residents  of  its  poorer  quarters 
are  absolutely  the  shortest  in  the  entire  peninsula.  From  Fran- 
conia,  Bavaria,  and  Alsace-Lorraine  comes  corroborative  testi- 
mony to  the  same  effect.  All  over  Britain  there  are  indications 
of  this  law,  that  town  populations  are  on  the  average  compara- 
tively short  of  stature.  The  townsmen  of  Glasgow  and  Edin- 
burgh are  four  inches  or  more  shorter  than  the  country  folk  round 
about,  and  thirty-six  pounds  on  the  average  lighter  in  weight. 
Dr.  Beddoe,  the  great  authority  upon  this  subject,  concludes  his 
investigation  of  the  population  of  Great  Britain  thus :  "  It  may 
therefore  be  taken  as  proved  that  the  stature  of  men  in  the  large 
towns  of  Britain  is  lowered  considerably  below  the  standard  of 
the  nation,  and  as  probable  that  such  degradation  is  hereditary 
and  progressive."  This  is  not  an  invariable  rule  ;  as,  for  example, 
in  Saxony  and  parts  of  France,  where  investigators  have  dis- 
covered no  differences  at  all  between  city  and  country.  Never- 
theless, the  trend  of  testimony  is  in  favor  of  Beddoe's  view,  as  a 
rule,  especially  when  applied  to  the  great  modern  factory  towns, 
where  contributory  influences,  such  as  professional  selection  and 
the  like,  come  into  operation. 


690  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

A  most  important  point  in  this  connection  is  the  great  vari- 
ability of  city  populations  in  size.  All  observers  comment  upon 
this.  It  is  of  profound  significance.  The  people  of  the  west 
and  east  ends  in  each  city  differ  widely.  The  population  of 
the  aristocratic  quarters  is  often  found  to  exceed  in  stature  the 
people  of  the  tenement  districts.  In  this  case,  both  among  Jews 
and  Poles,  variations  in  stature  corresponding  to  those  of  social 
condition  were  proved  beyond  doubt.  Manouvrier  has  analyzed 
the  Parisians  most  suggestively  in  much  the  same  way,  showing 
the  similar  tendency  upon  his  map.  In  Madrid,  also,  it  appears 
that  the  well-to-do  people  are  nearly  two  inches  taller  on  the 
average  than  the  residents  of  the  poorer  quarters.  We  should 
expect  this,  of  course,  as  a  direct  result  of  the  depressing  influ- 
ence of  unfavorable  environment.  Yet  there  is  apparently  an- 
other factor  underlying  that,  viz.  social  selection.  While  cities 
contain  so  large  a  proportion  of  degenerate  physical  types  as 
on  the  average  to  fall  below  the  surrounding  country  in  stature, 
nevertheless  they  also  are  found  to  include  an  inordinately  large 
number  of  very  tall  and  well-developed  individuals.  In  other 
words,  compared  with  the  rural  districts  where  all  men  are 
subject  to  the  same  conditions  of  life,  we  discover  in  the  city 
that  the  population  has  differentiated  into  the  very  tall  and  the 
very  short.  This  is  true  in  Hamburg ;  it  holds  good  in  many  of 
the  cities  of  Franconia,  as  Majer  long  ago  established.  Brandt 
has  just  proved  the  same  in  Alsace-Lorraine.  Here,  also,  while 
the  average  statures  in  city  and  country  are  equal,  the  com- 
position of  each  contingent  is  very  different ;  for  the  relatively 
homogeneous  suburban  type  is  replaced  in  the  cities  by  two  com- 
ponents, one  superior  and  one  defective  in  height.  Of  these, 
the  first  is  more  conspicuous.  Its  presence  has  been  oftener 
noted  by  observers.  It  is  scarcely  apparent  in  towns  of  minor 
importance,  but  the  phenomenon  becomes  exaggerated  in  propor- 
tion to  the  size  of  the  city.  Anutchin's  data  for  Russia  brings 
this  into  strong  relief.  It  is  only  in  capital  cities  —  St.  Peters- 
burg, Moscow,  Kazan,  and  Sebastopol  —  that  the  excess  of  taller 
men  raises  the  average  above  that  of  the  surrounding  country. 
In  other  cities  no  such  superiority  can  be  detected.  This 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION      691 

perhaps  is  why  Collignon  finds  Bordeaux  above  the  average"  for 
Gironde,  while  La  Rochelle,  being  a  smaller  place,  is  precisely 
like  its  department. 

The  explanation  for  this  phenomenon  is  simple.  Yet  it  is  not 
direct,  as  in  Topinard's  suggestion  that  it  is  a  matter  of  race  or 
that  a  change  of  environment  operates  to  stimulate  growth. 
Rather  does  it  appear  that  it  is  the  growth  which  suggests  the 
change.  The  tall  men  are  in  the  main  those  vigorous,  mettle- 
some, presumably  healthy  individuals,  who  have  themselves,  or 
in  the  person  of  their  fathers,  come  to  the  city  in  search  of  the 
prizes  which  urban  life  has  to  offer  to  the  successful.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  degenerate,  the  stunted,  those  who  entirely  out- 
number the  others  so  far  as  to  drag  the  average  for  the  city  as 
a  whole  below  the  normal,  are  the  grist  turned  out  by  the  city 
mill.  They  are  the  product  of  the  tenement,  the  sweat  shop, 
vice,  and  crime.  Of  course,  normally  developed  men,  as  ever, 
constitute  the  main  bulk  of  the  population ;  but  these  two 
widely  divergent  classes  attain  a  very  considerable  representation. 
As  an  example  of  the  influence  of  such  selection,  Dr.  Beddoe 
remarks  upon  the  noticeably  short  stature  of  all  the  agricultural 
counties  about  London,  being  even  less  than  in  the  metropolis 
itself.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Anthropometric  Committee,  meas- 
uring more  among  the  upper  classes  in  London,  found  them  to 
exceed  both  in  height  and  weight  the  peasantry  in  Hertford- 
shire, near  by.  This  need  not  disprove  Dr.  Beddoe's  assertion. 
In  fact,  the  contradictory  evidence  is  very  valuable  for  that 
reason.  The  only  way  to  account  for  it  is  to  suppose  that  the 
constant  draught  upon  these  suburban  populations  for  their  most 
powerful  men,  for  service  in  the  neighboring  city  as  policemen, 
porters,  firemen,  and  in  other  picked  professions,  has  depleted 
the  land  of  all  its  best  specimens.  Such  an  inflowing  current 
always  tends  cityward.  Everything  points  to  the  conclusion,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  the  final  product  of  the  continued  residence 
of  such  sorted  populations  in  the  city  is  to  divide  them  into  the 
chosen  few  who  succeed  and  rise  socially,  and  the  many  who 
descend,  in  the  social  scale  as  well  as  in  stature,  until  their 
line  becomes  extinct.  As  they  differentiate  thus,  they  migrate 


692  SOCIOLOGY  AND   SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

within  the  city.  The  few  drift  toward  the  West  End,  toward  the 
Champs  filysees,  or  Fifth  Avenue,  where  they  maintain  the  high 
physical  standard  of  the  quarter ;  the  others  gravitate  no  less 
irresistibly  toward  Whitechapel  and  the  Bowery. 

We  have  seen  thus  far  that  evidence  seems  to  point  to  an 
aggregation  of  the  Teutonic  long-headed  population  in  the  urban 
centers  of  Europe.  Perhaps  a  part  of  the  tall  stature  in  some 
cities  may  be  due  to  such  racial  causes.  This  was  Topinard's 
explanation  of  it  in  part.  A  curious  anomaly  now  remains,  how- 
ever, to  be  noted.  City  populations  appear  to  manifest  a  distinct 
tendency  toward  brunetteness ;  that  is  to  say,  they  seem  to  com- 
prise an  abnormal  proportion  of  brunette  traits  as  compared 
with  the  neighboring  rural  districts.  The  first  notice  of  this  is 
due  to  Majer,  who,  studying  some  seven  hundred  and  sixty  thou- 
sand school  children  in  Bavaria,  stumbled  upon  it  unexpectedly. 
Although  blondes  were  in  a  very  decided  majority  in  the  king- 
dom as  a  whole,  the  cities  all  contained  a  noticeable  preponder- 
ance of.  brunette  traits.  This  tendency  was  strikingly  shown  to 
characterize  the  entire  German  Empire  when  its  six  million  school 
children  were  examined  under  Virchow's  direction.  In  twenty- 
five  out  of  thirty-three  of  the  larger  cities  were  the  brunette  traits 
more  frequent  than  in  the  country.  In  Metz  alone  was  there  a 
decided  preponderance  of  blondes,  due  perhaps  to  the  recent 
Germanization  of  Alsace-Lorraine  as  a  result  of  political  circum- 
stances. Broadly  viewed,  all  the  larger  cities,  dating  from  the 
period  prior  to  1850,  showed  this  brunette  peculiarity  in  their 
school  children.  Quite  independently,  and  in  fact  as  early  as 
1865,  Dr.  Beddoe  refers  to  the  same  fact  as  a  matter  of  common 
report,  finding  it  to  hold  good  in  the  Rhine  cities.  His  conclusions, 
however,  were  based  entirely  upon  adults.  Here  again,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  head  form,  we  must  reckon  with  the  fact  that  city 
populations  are  always  by  reason  of  intermixture  a  mean,  inter- 
mediate between  the  extremes  presented  by  the  country  at  large. 
So  in  northern  blond  Hannover  the  cities  should  contain  more 
dark  traits  than  the  country  ;  in  Bavaria,  on  the  contrary,  we 
should  expect  them,  for  this  same  reason,  to  be  somewhat  more 
blond.  Nevertheless,  this  would  not  account  for  the  dark  hair  in 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION     693 

certain  Prussian  cities,  which  contain  more  than  twice  as  many 
dark  as  there  are  light  traits ;  and  in  Bavaria,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  actual  condition  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  what  might  have 
been  statistically  expected. 

Austria  offers  confirmation  of  the  same  tendency  toward  bru- 
netteness  in  twenty-four  out  of  its  thirty-three  principal  cities. 
Farther  south,  in  Italy,  it  was  noted  much  earlier  that  cities 
contained  fewer  blondes  than  were  common  in  the  rural  districts 
round  about.  The  rule  has  been  corroborated  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  country,  since  Livi  finds  that  even  in  the  thirty-two 
darkest  provinces,  where  towns  tending  toward  the  mean  for  the 
country  should  contain  more  blondes  than  the  suburban  districts, 
twenty-one  of  the  capital  cities  show  the  reverse  relation,  while 
only  nine  conform  to  statistical  probability.  For  Switzerland  the 
evidence  is  conflicting.  Applying  the  rule  to  the  cities  of  the  Brit- 
ish Isles,  Dr.  Beddoe  finds  it  to  hold  good  especially  in  the  color 
of  the  hair.  Ammon  in  his  detailed  researches  discovers  a  tend- 
ency toward  brunetteness  in  the  cities  of  Baden.  So  uniform  is 
the  testimony  that  those  who,  like  Lapouge,  have  ascribed  the 
long  headedness  of  city  populations  to  a  predominance  of  the 
Teutonic  racial  type  now  acknowledge  this  tendency  toward  bru- 
netteness, in  spite,  in  this  case,  of  ethnic  probabilities  to  the  con- 
trary. The  relative  frequency,  in  fact,  of  long  headedness  and 
coincidently  of  brunette  characteristics  induced  Lapouge  to  desig- 
nate this  combination  the  "foreordained  urban  type."  In  con- 
clusion, let  us  add,  not  as  additional  testimony,  for  the  data  are 
too  defective,  that  among  five  hundred  American  students  at  the 
Institute  of  Technology  in  Boston,  roughly  classified,  there  were 
nine  per  cent  of  pure  brunette  type  among  those  of  country  birth 
and  training,  while  among  those  of  urban  birth  and  parentage  the 
percentage  of  such  brunette  type  rose  as  high  as  fifteen.  The 
arbitrary  limit  of  twenty  thousand  inhabitants  was  here  adopted 
as  distinguishing  city  from  suburban  populations.  Dark  hair  was 
noticeably  more  frequent  in  the  group  drawn  from  the  larger  towns. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  there  is  in  brunetteness,  in  the  dark 
hair  and  eye,  some  indication  of  vital  superiority*  If  this  were  so, 
it  would  serve  as  a  partial  explanation  for  the  social  phenomena 


694  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

which  we  have  been  at  so  much  pains  to  describe.  If  in  the 
same  community  there  were  a  slight  vital  advantage  in  brunette- 
ness,  we  should  expect  to  find  that  type  slowly  aggregating  in 
the  cities ;  for  it  requires  energy  and  courage,  physical  as  well 
as  mental,  not  only  to  break  the  ties  of  home  and  migrate,  but 
also  to  maintain  one's  self  afterward  under  the  stress  of  urban 
life.  Selection  thus  would  be  doubly  operative.  It  would  deter- 
mine the  character  both  of  the  urban  immigrants  and,  to  coin 
a  phrase,  of  the  urban  persis tents  as  well.  The  idea  is  worth 
developing  a  bit. 

Eminent  authority  stands  sponsor  for  the  theorem  that  pig- 
mentation in  the  lower  animals  is  an  important  factor  in  the 
great  struggle  for  survival.  One  proof  of  this  is  that  albinos  in 
all  species  are  apt  to  be  defective  in  keenness  of  sense,  thereby 
being  placed  at  a  great  disadvantage  in  the  competition  for  exist- 
ence with  their  fellows.  Pigmentation,  especially  in  the  organs 
of  sense,  seems  to  be  essential  to  their  full  development.  As  a 
result,  with  the  coincident  disadvantage  due  to  their  conspicuous 
color,  such  albinos  are  ruthlessly  weeded  out  by  the  processes 
of  natural  selection  ;  their  nonexistence  in  a  state  of  nature  is 
noticeable.  Darwin  and  others  cite  numerous  examples  of  the 
defective  senses  of  such  nonpigmented  animals.  Thus,  in  Vir- 
ginia, the  white  pigs  of  the  colonists  perished  miserably  by  par- 
taking of  certain  poisonous  roots  which  the  dark-colored  hogs 
avoided  by  reason  of  keener  sense  discrimination.  In  Italy,  the 
same  exemption  of  black  sheep  from  accidental  poisoning,  to  which 
their  white  companions  were  subject,  has  been  noted.  Animals 
so  far  removed  from  one  another  as  the  horse  and  the  rhinoceros 
are  said  to  suffer  from  a  defective  sense  of  smell  when  they  are 
of  the  albino  type.  It  is  a  fact  of  common  observation  that  white 
cats  with  blue  eyes  are  quite  often  deaf.  Other  examples  might 
be  cited  of  similar  import.  They  all  tend  to  justify  Alfred  Russell 
Wallace's  conclusion  that  pigmentation,  if  not  absolutely  neces- 
sary, at  least  conduces  to  acuteness  of  sense;  and  that  where 
abundantly  present  it  is  often  an  index  of  vitality.  This  eminent 
naturalist  even 'ventures  to  connect  the  aggressiveness  of  the 
male  sex  among  the  lower  animals  with  its  brilliancy  of  coloring. 


ETHNIC  STRATIFICATION  AND  URBAN  SELECTION    695 

Applying  these  considerations  to  man,  evidence  is  not  entirely 
wanting  to  support  De  Candolle's  thesis  that  "pigmentation  is 
an  index  of  force."  Disease  often  produces  a  change  in  the 
direction  of  blondness,  as  Dr.  Beddoe  has  observed ;  asserting, 
as  he  does,  that  this  trait  in  general  is  due  to  a  defect  of  secre- 
tion. The  case  of  the  negro,  cited  by  Ogle,  whose  depigmentation 
was  accompanied  by  a  loss  of  the  sense  of  smell,  is  a  pertinent 
one.  The  phenomenon  of  light-haired  childhood  and  of  gray- 
haired  senility  points  to  the  same  conclusion.  A  million  soldiers 
observed  during  our  Civil  War  afforded  data  for  Baxter's  asser- 
tion that  the  brunette  type,  on  the  whole,  opposed  a  greater  resist- 
ance to  disease,  and  offered  more  hope  of  recovery  from  injuries 
in  the  field.  Darwin  long  ago  suggested  a  relation  of  pigmenta- 
tion to  the  similar  resistant  power  of  the  dark  races  in  the  trop- 
ics, although  he  had  to  deal  with  much  conflicting  evidence.  Dr. 
Beddoe  finds  in  Bristol  that  the  dark-haired  children  are  more 
tenacious  of  life,  and  asserts  a  distinct  superiority  of  the  brunette 
type  in  the  severe  competitions  induced  by  urban  life.  Havelock 
Ellis  marshals  some  interesting  testimony  to  the  end  that  the 
apparently  greater  pigmentation  in  woman  is  correlated  with  its 
greater  resistant  power  in  the  matter  of  disease.  More  recently 
Pfitzner  has  investigated  the  same  subject,  although  it  is  not 
certain,  as  we  have  already  observed,  that  the  greater  brunette- 
ness  of  his  Alsatian  women  is  a  phenomenon  of  race  rather  than 
of  sex.  It  is  not  for  us  to  settle  the  matter  here  and  now.  The 
solution  belongs  to  the  physiologist.  As  statisticians  it  behooves 
us  to  note  facts,  leaving  choice  of  explanations  to  others  more 
competent  to  judge.  It  must  be  said  in  conclusion,  however, 
that  present  tendencies  certainly  point  in  the  direction  of  some 
relation  between  pigmentation  and  general  physiological  and 
mental  vigor.  If  this  be  established,  it  will  go  far  to  explain 
some  of  these  curious  differences  between  country  and  city  which 
we  have  noted. 

From  the  preceding  formidable  array  of  testimony,  it  appears 
that  the  tendency  of  urban  populations  is  certainly  not  toward 
the  pure  blond,  long-headed,  and  tall  Teutonic  type.  The  phe- 
nomenon of  urban  selection  is  something  more  complex  than 


696  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

a  mere  migration  of  a  single  racial  element  in  the  population 
toward  the  cities.  The  physical  characteristics  of  townsmen  are 
too  contradictory  for  ethnic  explanations  alone.  A  process  of 
physiological  and  social  rather  than  of  ethnic  selection  seems  to 
be  at  work  in  addition.  To  be  sure,  the- tendencies  are  slight; 
we  are  not  even  certain  of  their  universal  existence  at  all.  We 
are  merely  watching  for  their  verification  or  disproof.  There  is, 
however,  nothing  improbable  in  the  phenomena  we  have  noted. 
Naturalists  have  always  turned  to  the  environment  for  the  final 
solution  of  many  of  the  great  problems  of  nature.  In  this  case 
we  have  to  do  with  one  of  the  most  sudden  and  radical  changes 
of  environment  known  to  man.  Every  condition  of  city  life, 
mental  as  well  as  physical,  is  at  the  polar  extreme  from  those 
which  prevail  in  the  country.  To  deny  that  great  modifications 
in  human  structure  and  functions  may  be  effected  by  a  change 
from  one  to  the  other  is  to  gainsay  all  the  facts  of  natural 
history. 


XXX 

DEGENERATION  * 

ETIOLOGY 

We  have  recognized  the  effect  of  diseases  in  these  fin-de-sticle 
literary  and  artistic  tendencies  and  fashions  as  well  as  in  the 
susceptibility  of  the  public  with  regard  to  them,  and  we  have 
succeeded  in  maintaining  that  these  diseases  are  degeneracy  and 
hysteria.  We  have  now  to  inquire  how  these  maladies  of  the  day 
have  originated,  and  why  they  appear  with  such  extraordinary 
frequency  at  the  present  time. 

Morel,  the  great  investigator  of  degeneracy,  traces  this  chiefly 
to  poisoning.  A  race  which  is  regularly  addicted,  even  without 
excess,  to  narcotics  and  stimulants  in  any  form  (such  as  fer- 
mented alcoholic  drinks,  tobacco,  opium,  hasheesh,  arsenic),  which 
partakes  of  tainted  foods  (bread  made  with  bad  corn),  which  ab- 
sorbs organic  poisons  (marsh  fever,  syphilis,  tuberculosis,  goiter), 
begets  degenerate  descendants,  who,  if  they  remain  exposed  to 
the  same  influences,  rapidly  descend  to  the  lowest  degrees  of 
degeneracy,  to  idiocy,  to  dwarfishness,  etc.  That  the  poisoning 
of  civilized  peoples  continues  and  increases  at  a  very  rapid  rate 
is  widely  attested  by  statistics.  The  consumption  of  tobacco  has 
risen  in  France  from  0.8  kilogram  per  head  in  1841  to  1.9 
kilograms  in  1890.  The  corresponding  figures  for  England  are 
13  and  26  ounces;  for  Germany,  0.8  and  1.5  kilograms.  The 
consumption  of  alcohol  during  the  same  period  has  risen  in  Ger- 
many (1844)  from  5.45  quarts  to  (1867)  6.86  quarts  ;  in  England 
from  2.01  liters  to  2.64  liters;  in  France  from  1.33  liters  to  4 
liters.  The  increase  in  the  consumption  of  opium  and  hasheesh 
is  still  greater,  but  we  need  not  concern  ourselves  about  that, 

1  From  Degeneration,  by  Max  Nordau,  Book  I,  chap,  iv  ;  Book  V,  chap,  i, 
pp.  540-545  (copyright,  1895,  by  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  New  York). 

697 


698  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

since  the  chief  sufferers  from  them  are  Eastern  peoples,  who 
play  no  part  in  the  intellectual  development  of  the  white  races. 
To  these  noxious  influences,  however,  one  more  may  be  added, 
which  Morel  has  not  known,  or  has  not  taken  into  consideration, 
—  residence  in  large  towns.  The  inhabitant  of  a  large  town, 
even  the  richest,  who  is  surrounded  by  the  greatest  luxury,  is 
continually  exposed  to  unfavorable  influences  which  diminish  his 
vital  powers  far  more  than  what  is  inevitable.  He  breathes  an 
atmosphere  charged  with  organic  detritus ;  he  eats  stale,  con- 
taminated, adulterated  food ;  he  feels  himself  in  a  state  of  con- 
stant nervous  excitement,  and  one  can  compare  him  without 
exaggeration  to  the  inhabitant  of  a  marshy  district.  The  effect 
of  a  large  town  on  the  human  organism  offers  the  closest  anal- 
ogy to  that  of  the  Maremma,  and  its  population  falls  victim  to 
the  same  fatality  of  degeneracy  and  destruction  as  the  victims  of 
malaria.  The  death  rate  in  a  large  town  is  more  than  a  quarter 
greater  than  the  average  for  the  entire  population ;  it  is  double 
that  of  the  open  country,  though  in  reality  it  ought  to  be  less, 
since  in  a  large  town  the  most  vigorous  ages  predominate,  during 
which  the  mortality  is  lower  than  in  infancy  and  old  age.  And 
the  children  of  large  towns  who  are  not  carried  off  at  an  early 
age  suffer  from  the  peculiar  arrested  development  which  Morel 
has  ascertained  in  the  population  of  fever  districts.  They  develop 
more  or  less  normally  until  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of  age,  are 
up  to  that  time  alert,  sometimes  brilliantly  endowed,  and  give 
the  highest  promise ;  then  suddenly  there  is  a  standstill,  the 
mind  loses  its  facility  of  comprehension,  and  the  boy  who,  only 
yesterday,  was  a  model  scholar,  becomes  an  obtuse,  clumsy  dunce, 
who  can  only  be  steered  with  the  greatest  difficulty  through  his 
examinations.  With  these  mental  changes  bodily  modifications  go 
hand  in  hand.  The  growth  of  the  long  bones  is  extremely  slow, 
or  ceases  entirely,  the  legs  remain  short,  the  pelvis  retains  a  fem- 
inine form,  certain  other  organs  cease  to  develop,  and  the  entire 
being  presents  a  strange  and  repulsive  mixture  of  incomplete- 
ness and  decay. 

Now  we  know  how,  in  the  last  generation,  the  number  of  the 
inhabitants  of  great  towns  increased  to  an  extraordinary  degree. 


DEGENERATION  699 

At  the  present  time  an  incomparably  larger  portion  of  the  whole 
population  is  subjected  to  the  destructive  influences  of  large 
towns  than  was  the  case  fifty  years  ago ;  hence  the  number  of 
victims  is  proportionately  more  striking,  and  continually  becomes 
more  remarkable.  Parallel  with  the  growth  of  large  towns  is  the 
increase  in  the  number  of  degenerates  of  all  kinds,  —  criminals, 
lunatics,  and  the  "  higher  degenerates  "  of  Magnan ;  and  it  is  natu- 
ral that  these  last  should  play  an  ever  more  prominent  part  in 
endeavoring  to  introduce  an  ever  greater  element  of  insanity 
into  art  and  literature. 

The  enormous  increase  of  hysteria  in  our  days  is  partly  due 
to  the  same  causes  as  degeneracy,  besides  which  there  is  one 
cause  much  more  general  still  than  the  growth  of  large  towns,  — 
a  cause  which  perhaps  of  itself  would  not  be  sufficient  to  bring 
about  degeneracy,  but  which  is  unquestionably  quite  enough  to 
produce  hysteria  and  neurasthenia.  This  cause  is  the  fatigue  of 
the  present  generation.  That  hysteria  is  in  reality  a  consequence 
of  fatigue  Fere  has  conclusively  demonstrated  by  convincing  ex- 
periments. In  a  communication  to  the  Biological  Society  of  Paris 
this  distinguished  investigator  says  :  "  I  have  recently  observed 
a  certain  number  of  facts  which  have  made  apparent  the  anal- 
ogy existing  between  fatigue  and  the  chronic  condition  of  the 
hysterical.  One  knows  that  among  the  hysterical  (involun- 
tary !)  symmetry  of  movements  frequently  shows  itself  in  a  very 
characteristic  manner.  I  have  proved  that  in  normal  subjects  this 
same  symmetry  of  movements  is  met  with  under  the  influence 
of  fatigue.  A  phenomenon  which  shows  itself  in  a  very  marked 
way  in  serious  hysteria  is  that  peculiar  excitability  which  dem- 
onstrates that  the  energy  of  the  voluntary  movements,  through 
peripheral  stimulations  or  mental  presentations,  suffers  rapid  and 
transitory  modifications  coexisting  with  parallel  modifications  of 
sensibility,  and  of  the  functions  of  nutrition.  This  excitability 
can  be  equally  manifested  during  fatigue.  .  .  .  Fatigue  consti- 
tutes a  true  temporary  experimental  hysteria.  It  establishes  a 
transition  between  the  states  which  we  call  normal  and  the 
various  states  which  we  designate  hysteria.  One  can  change  a 
normal  into  an  hysterical  individual  by  tiring  him.  .  .  .  All  these 


700  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

causes  (which  produce  hysteria)  can,  as  far  as  the  pathogenic 
part  they  play  is  concerned,  be  traced  to  one  simple  physiological 
process,  —  to  fatigue,  to  depression  of  vitality." 

Now,  to  this  cause, — fatigue,  —  which,  according  to  Fere, 
changes  healthy  men  into  hysterical,  the  whole  of  civilized  hu- 
manity has  been  exposed  for  half  a  century.  All  its  conditions 
of  life  have,  in  this  period  of  time,  experienced  a  revolution 
unexampled  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Humanity  can  point  to 
no  century  in  which  the  inventions  which  penetrate  so  deeply, 
so  tyrannically,  into  the  life  of  every  individual  are  crowded  so 
thick  as  in  ours.  The  discovery  of  America,  the  Reformation, 
stirred  men's  minds  powerfully,  no  doubt,  and  certainly  also 
destroyed  the  equilibrium  of  thousands  of  brains  which  lacked 
staying  power.  But  they  did  not  change  the  material  life  of 
man.  He  got  up  and  lay  down,  ate  and  drank,  dressed,  amused 
himself,  passed  his  days  and  years  as  he  had  been  always 
wont  to  do.  In  our  times,  on  the  contrary,  steam  and  electricity 
have  turned  the  customs  of  life  of  every  member  of  the  civilized 
nations  upside  down,  even  of  the  most  obtuse  and  narrow- 
minded  citizen,  who  is  completely  inaccessible  to  the  impelling 
thoughts  of  the  times. 

In  an  exceptionally  remarkable  lecture  by  Professor  A.  W. 
von  Hofmann,  in  1890,  before  the  Congress  of  German  Natural 
Science  held  in  Bremen,  he  gave,  in  concluding,  a  short  descrip- 
tion of  the  life  of  an  inhabitant  of  a  town  in  the  year  1822.  He 
shows  us  a  student  of  science,  who  at  that  date  is  arriving  with 
the  coach  from  Bremen  to  Leipsic.  The  journey  has  lasted  four 
days  and  four  nights,  and  the  traveler  is  naturally  stiff  and 
bruised.  His  friends  receive  him,  and  he  wishes  to  refresh  him- 
self a  little.  But  there  is  yet  no  Munich  beer  in  Leipsic.  After 
a  short  interview  with  his  comrades,  he  goes  in  search  of  his  inn. 
This  is  no  easy  task,  for  in  the  streets  an  Egyptian  darkness 
reigns,  broken  only  at  long  distances  by  the  smoky  flame  of  an 
oil  lamp.  He  at  last  finds  his  quarters  and  wishes  for  a  light. 
As  matches  do  not  yet  exist,  he  is  reduced  to  bruising  the  tips  of 
his  fingers  with  flint  and  steel,  till  he  succeeds  at  last  in  lighting 
a  tallow  candle.  He  expects  a  letter,  but  it  has  not  come,  and 


DEGENERATION  701 

he  cannot  now  receive  it  till  after  some  days,  for  the  post  only 
runs  twice  a  week  between  Frankfort  and  Leipsic. 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  go  back  to  the  year  1822,  chosen  by 
Professor  Hofmann.  Let  us  stop  for  purposes  of  comparison 
at  the  year  1840.  This  year  has  not  been  arbitrarily  selected. 
It  is  about  the  date  when  that  generation  was  born  which  has 
witnessed  the  irruption  of  new  discoveries  in  every  relation  of  life, 
and  thus  personally  experienced  those  transformations  which  are 
the  consequences.  This  generation  reigns  and  governs  to-day ;  it 
sets  the  tone  everywhere,  and  its  sons  and  daughters  are  the  youth 
of  Europe  and  America,  in  whom  the  new  aesthetic  tendencies 
gain  their  fanatical  partisans.  Let  us  now  compare  how  things 
went  on  in  the  civilized  world  in  1840  and  half  a  century  later. 

In  1840  there  were  in  Europe  3000  kilometers  of  railway; 
in  1891  there  were  218,000  kilometers.  The  number  of  travel- 
ers in  1840  in  Germany,  France,  and  England  amounted  to  2,500,- 
ooo;  in  1891  it  was  614,000,000.  In  Germany  every  inhabitant 
received,  in  1840,  85  letters;  in  1888,  200  letters.  In  1840  the 
post  distributed  in  France  94,000,000  letters  ;  in  England,  277,- 
000,000;  in  1889,  595,000,000  and  1,299,000,000  respectively. 
The  collective  postal  intercourse  between  all  countries,  without 
including  the  internal  postage  of  each  separate  country,  amounted, 
in  1840,  to  92,000,000  ;  in  1889,  to  2,759,000,000.  In  Germany, 
in  1840,  305  newspapers  were  published;  in  1891,  6800;  in 
France,  776  and  5182  ;  in  England  in  1846,  551  and  2255.  The 
German  book  trade  produced,  in  1840,  1 100  new  works;  in  1891, 
18,700.  The  exports  and  imports  of  the  world  had,  in  1840,  a 
value  of  28,  in  1889  of  74  milliards.  The  ships  which,  in  1840, 
entered  all  the  ports  of  Great  Britain  contained  9,500,000  tons; 
in  1890,  74,500,000  tons.  The  whole  British  merchant  navy 
measures,  in  1840,  3,200,000  tons;  in  1890,  9,688,000  tons. 

Let  us  now  consider  how  these  formidable  figures  arise.  The 
18,000  new  publications,  the  6800  newspapers  in  Germany, 
desire  to  be  read,  although  many  of  them  desire  in  vain ;  the 
2,759,000,000  letters  must  be  written  ;  the  larger  commercial 
transactions,  the  numerous  journeys,  the  increased  marine  inter- 
course, imply  a  correspondingly  greater  activity  in  individuals. 


702  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  humblest  village  inhabitant  has  to-day  a  wider  geographical 
horizon,  more  numerous  and  complex  intellectual  interests,  than 
the  prime  minister  of  a  petty  or  even  a  second-rate  state  a  century 
ago.  If  he  do  but  read  his  paper,  let  it  be  the  most  innocent 
provincial  rag,  he  takes  part  certainly  not  by  active  interference 
and  influence  but  by  a  continuous  and  receptive  curiosity  in  the 
thousand  events  which  take  place  in  all  parts  of  the  globe,  and 
he  interests  himself  simultaneously  in  the  issue  of  a  revolution 
in  Chili,  in  a  bush  war  in  East  Africa,  a  massacre  in  north  China, 
a  famine  in  Russia,  a  street  row  in  Spain,  and  an  international 
exhibition  in  North  America.  A  cook  receives  and  sends  more 
letters  than  a  -university  professor  did  formerly,  and  a  petty 
tradesman  travels  more  and  sees  more  countries  and  people 
than  did  the  reigning  prince  of  other  times. 

All  these  activities,  however,  even  the  simplest,  involve  an 
effort  of  the  nervous  system  and  a  wearing  of  tissue.  Every 
line  we  read  or  write,  every  human  face  we  see,  every  conversa- 
tion we  carry  on,  every  scene  we  perceive  through  the  window 
of  the  flying  express,  sets  in  activity  our  sensory  nerves  and  our 
brain  centers.  Even  the  little  shocks  of  railway  traveling,  not 
perceived  by  consciousness,  the  perpetual  noises,  and  the  various 
sights  in  the  streets  of  a  large  town,  our  suspense  pending  the 
sequel  of  progressing  events,  the  constant  expectation  of  the 
newspaper,  of  the  postman,  of  visitors,  cost  our  brains  wear  and 
tear.  In  the  last  fifty  years  the  population  of  Europe  has  not 
doubled,  whereas  the  sum  of  its  labors  has  increased  tenfold,  in 
part  even  fiftyfold.  Every  civilized  man  furnishes  at  the  pres- 
ent time  from  five  to  twenty-five  times  as  much  work  as  was 
demanded  of  him  half  a  century  ago. 

This  enormous  increase  in  organic  expenditure  has  not,  and 
cannot  have,  a  corresponding  increase  of  supply.  Europeans  now 
eat  a  little  more  and  a  little  better  than  they  did  fifty  years  ago, 
but  by  no  means  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  effort  which 
to-day  is  required  of  them.  And  even  if  they  had  the  choicest 
food  in  the  greatest  abundance,  it  would  do  nothing  towards 
helping  them,  for  they  would  be  incapable  of  digesting  it.  Our 
stomachs  cannot  keep  pace  with  the  brain  and  the  nervous 


DEGENERATION 


703 


system.  The  latter  demand  very  much  more  than  the  former 
are  able  to  perform.  And  so  there  follows  what  always  happens 
if  great  expenses  are  met  by  small  incomes  ;  first  the  savings 
are  consumed,  then  comes  bankruptcy. 

Its  own  new  discoveries  and  progress  have  taken  civilized 
humanity  by  surprise.  It  has  no  time  to  adapt  itself  to  its  changed 
conditions  of  life.  We  know  that  our  organs  acquire  by  exercise 
an  ever  greater  functional  capacity,  that  they  develop  by  their 
own  activity,  and  can  respond  to  nearly  every  demand  made  upon 
them  ;  but  only  under  one  condition,  —  that  this  occurs  gradually, 
that  time  be  allowed  them.  If  they  are  obliged  to  fulfill,  with- 
out transition,  a  multiple  of  their  usual  task,  they  soon  give  out 
entirely.  No  time  was  left  to  our  fathers.  Between  one  day  and 
the  next,  as  it  were,  without  preparation,  with  murderous  sud- 
denness, they  were  obliged  to  change  the  comfortable  creeping 
gait  of  their  former  existence  for  the  stormy  stride  of  modern 
life,  and  their  heart  and  lungs  could  not  bear  it.  The  strongest 
could  keep  up,  no  doubt,  and  even  now,  at  the  most  rapid  pace,  no 
longer  lose  their  breath,  but  the  less  vigorous  soon  fell  out  right 
and  left,  and  fill  to-day  the  ditches  on  the  road  of  progress. 

To  speak  without  metaphor,  statistics  indicate  in  what  meas- 
ure the  sum  of  work  of  civilized  humanity  has  increased  during 
the  half  century.  It  had  not  quite  grown  to  this  increased  effort. 
It  grew  fatigued  and  exhausted,  and  this  fatigue  and  exhaus- 
tion showed  themselves  in  the  first  generation,  under  the  form  of 
acquired  hysteria ;  in  the  second,  as  hereditary  hysteria. 

The  new  aesthetic  schools  and  their  success  are  a  form  of  this 
general  hysteria,  but  they  are  far  from  being  the  only  one, 
The  malady  of  the  period  shows  itself  in  yet  many  other  phenom- 
ena which  can  be  measured  and  counted,  and  thus  are  suscep- 
tible of  being  scientifically  established.  And  these  positive  and 
unambiguous  symptoms  of  exhaustion  are  well  adapted  to  en- 
lighten the  ignorant,  who  might  believe  at  first  sight  that  the 
specialist  acts  arbitrarily  in  tracing  back  fashionable  tendencies 
in  art  and  literature  to  states  of  fatigue  in  civilized  humanity. 

It  has  become  a  commonplace  to  speak  of  the  constant  in- 
crease of  crime,  madness,  and  suicide.  In  1841,  in  Prussia,  out 


704  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

of  100,000  persons  of  criminally  responsible  age  there  were  714 
convictions;  in  1888,  1102  (from  a  letter  communicated  by  the 
Prussian  bureau  of  statistics).  In  1865,  in  every  10,000  Euro- 
peans there  were  63  suicides  ;  in  1883,  109  ;  and  since  that  time 
the  number  has  increased  considerably.  In  the  last  twenty  years 
a  number  of  new  nervous  diseases  have  been  discovered  and 
named.  Let  it  not  be  believed  that  they  always  existed,  and 
were  merely  overlooked.  If  they  had  been  met  with  anywhere 
they  would  have  been  detected,  for  even  if  the  theories  which 
prevailed  in  medicine  at  various  periods  were  erroneous,  there 
have  always  been  perspicacious  and  attentive  physicians  who 
knew  how  to  observe.  If,  then,  the  new  nervous  diseases  were 
not  noticed,  it  is  because  they  did  not  formerly  appear.  And 
they  are  exclusively  a  consequence  of  the  present  conditions  of 
civilized  life.  Many  affections  of  the  nervous  system  already 
bear  a  name  which  implies  that  they  are  a  direct  consequence  of 
certain  influences  of  modern  civilization.  The  terms  "railway 
spine"  and  "railway  brain,"  which  the  EnglisTi  and  American 
pathologists  have  given  to  certain  states  of  these  organs,  show 
that  they  recognize  them  as  due  partly  to  the  effects  of  railway 
accidents,  partly  to  the  constant  vibrations  undergone  in  railway 
traveling.  Again,  the  great  increase  in  the  consumption  of  nar- 
cotics and  stimulants,  which  has  been  shown  in  the  figures  above, 
has  its  origin  unquestionably  in  the  exhausted  systems  with  which 
the  age  abounds.  There  is  here  a  disastrous,  vicious  circle  of  re- 
ciprocal effects.  The  drinker  (and  apparently  the  smoker  also) 
begets  enfeebled  children,  hereditarily  fatigued  or  degenerated, 
and  these  drink  and  smoke  in  their  turn,  because  they  are  fatigued. 
These  crave  for  a  stimulus,  for  a  momentary,  artificial  invigora- 
tion,  or  an  alleviation  of  their  painful  excitability,  and  then,  when 
they  recognize  that  this  increases,  in  the  long  run,  their  exhaus- 
tion as  well  as  their  excitability,  they  cannot,  through  weakness 
of  will,  resist  those  habits. 

Many  observers  assert  that  the  present  generation  ages  much 
more  rapidly  than  the  preceding  one.  Sir  James  Crichton-Browne 
points  out  this  effect  of  modern  circumstances  on  contemporaries 
in  his  speech  at  the  opening  of  the  winter  term,  1891,  before  the 


DEGENERATION 


705 


medical  faculty  of  the  Victoria  University.  From  1859  to  1863 
there  died  in  England,  of  heart  disease,  92, 1 8 1  persons ;  from 
1884  to  1888,  224,102.  Nervous  complaints  carried  off  from  1864 
to  1868,  196,000  persons;  from  1884  to  1888,  260,558.  The 
difference  of  figures  would  have  been  still  more  striking  if  Sir 
James  had  chosen  a  more  remote  period  for  comparison  with  the 
present,  for  in  1865  the  high  pressure  under  which  the  English 
worked  was  already  nearly  as  great  as  in  1885.  The  dead  carried 
off  by  heart  and  nerve  diseases  are  the  victims  of  civilization. 
The  heart  and  nervous  system  first  break  down  under  the  over- 
strain. Sir  James,  in  his  speech,  says  further  on :  "  Men  and 
women  grow  old  before  their  time.  Old  age  encroaches  upon 
the  period  of  vigorous  manhood.  .  .  .  Deaths  due  exclusively  to 
old  age  are  found  reported  now  between  the  ages  of  forty-five 
and  fifty-five.  .  .  ."  Mr.  Critchet,  an  eminent  oculist,  says : 
"  My  own  experience,  which  extends  now  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  leads  me  to  believe  that  men  and  women,  in  the  pres- 
ent day,  seek  the  aid  of  spectacles  at  a  less  advanced  period  of 
life  than  their  ancestors.  .  .  .  Previously  men  had  recourse  to 
spectacles  at  the  age  of  fifty.  The  average  age  is  now  forty- 
five-years."  Dentists  assert  that  teeth  decay  and  fall  out  at  an 
earlier  age  than  formerly.  Dr.  Lieving  attests  the  same  respect- 
ing the  hair,  and  assures  us  that  precocious  baldness  is  to  be 
specially  observed  "among  persons  of  nervous  temperaments 
and  active  mind,  but  of  weak  general  health."  Every  one  who 
looks  round  the  circle  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances  will  re- 
mark that  the  hair  begins  to  turn  gray  much  sooner  than  in 
former  days.  Most  men  and  women  show  their  first  white  hairs 
at  the  beginning  of  the  thirties,  many  of  them  .at  a  very  much 
younger  age.  Formerly  white  hair  was  the  accompaniment  of 
the  fiftieth  year. 

All  the  symptoms  enumerated  are  the  consequences  of  states 
of  fatigue  and  exhaustion,  and  these,  again,  are  the  effect  of  con- 
temporary civilization,  of  the  vertigo  and  whirl  of  our  frenzied 
life,  the  vastly  increased  number  of  sense  impressions  and  organic 
reactions,  and  therefore  of  perceptions,  judgments,  and  motor 
impulses,  which  at  present  are  forced  into  a  given  unity  of  time. 


706  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

To  this  general  cause  of  contemporary  pathological  phenomena, 
one  may  be  added  special  to  France.  By  the  frightful  loss  of 
blood  which  the  French  people  suffered  during  the  twenty  years 
of  the  Napoleonic  wars,  by  the  violent  moral  upheavals  to  which 
they  were  subjected  in"  the  great  Revolution  and  during  the  im- 
perial epoch,  they  found  themselves  exceedingly  ill  prepared  for 
the  impact  of  the  great  discoveries  of  the  century,  and  sustained 
by  these  a  more  violent  shock  than  other  nations  more  robust 
and  more  capable  of  resistance.  Upon  this  nation,  nervously 
strained  and  predestined  to  morbid  derangement,  there  broke 
the  awful  catastrophe  of  1870.  It  had,  with  a  self-satisfaction 
which  almost  attained  to  megalomania,  believed  itself  the  first 
nation  in  the  world ;  it  now  saw  itself  suddenly  humiliated  and 
crushed.  All  its  convictions  abruptly  crumbled  to  pieces.  Every 
single  Frenchman  suffered  reverses  of  fortune,  lost  some  mem- 
bers of  his  family,  and  felt  himself  personally  robbed  of  his  dear- 
est conceptions,  nay,  even  of  his  honor.  The  whole  people  fell 
into  the  condition  of  a  man  suddenly  visited  by  a  crushing  blow 
of  destiny,  in  his  fortune,  his  position,  his  family,  his  reputation, 
even  in  his  self-respect.  Thousands  lost  their  reason.  In  Paris 
a  veritable  epidemic  of  mental  diseases  was  observed,  for  which 
a  special  name  was  found,  —  lafolie  obsidionale,  "  siege  madness." 
And  even  those  who  did  not  at  once  succumb  to  mental,  derange- 
ment suffered  lasting  injury  to  their  nervous  system.  This  ex- 
plains why  hysteria  and  neurasthenia  are  much  more  frequent  in 
France,  and  appear  under  such  a  greater  variety  of  forms,  and 
why  they  can  be  studied  far  more  closely  in  this  country  than 
anywhere  else.  But  it  explains,  too,  that  it  is  precisely  in  France 
that  the  craziest  fashions  in  art  and  literature  would  necessarily 
arise,  and  that  it  is  precisely  there  that  the  morbid  exhaustion  of 
which  we  have  spoken  became  for  the  first  time  sufficiently  dis- 
tinct to  consciousness  to  allow  a  special  name  to  be  coined  for 
it,  viz.  the  designation  of  fin  de  sihle. 

The  proposition  which  I  set  myself  to  prove  may  now  be  taken 
as  demonstrated.  In  the  civilized  world  there  obviously  prevails 
a  twilight  mood  which  finds  expression,  amongst  other  ways,  in 
all  sorts  of  odd  aesthetic  fashions.  All  these  new  tendencies, 


DEGENERATION  707 

realism  or  naturalism,  "decadentism,"  neo-mysticism  and  their 
subvarieties,  are  manifestations  of  degeneration  and  hysteria, 
and  identical  with  the  mental  stigmata  which  the  observations  of 
clinicists  have  unquestionably  established  as  belonging  to  these. 
But  both  degeneration  and  hysteria  are  the  consequences  of  the 
excessive  organic  wear  and  tear  suffered  by  the  nations  through 
the  immense  demands  on  their  activity,  and  through  the  rank 
growth  of  large  towns. 

Led  by  this  firmly  linked  chain  of  causes  and  effects,  every 
one  capable  of  logical  thought  will  recognize  that  he  commits  a 
serious  error  if,  in  the  aesthetic  schools  which  have  sprung  up  in 
the  last  few  years,  he  sees  the  heralds  of  a  new  era.  They  do 
not  direct  us  to  the  future,  but  point  backwards  to  times  past. 
Their  word  is  no  ecstatic  prophecy,  but  the  senseless  stammer- 
ing and  babbling  of  deranged  minds,  and  what  the  ignorant  hold 
to  be  the  outbursts  of  gushing,  youthful  vigor  and  turbulent  con- 
structive impulses  are  really  nothing  but  the  convulsions  and 
spasms  of  exhaustion. 

We  should  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  deceived  by  certain  catch- 
words, frequently  uttered  in  the  works  of  these  professed  inno- 
vators. They  talk  of  socialism,  of  emancipation  of  the  mind, 
etc.,  and  thereby  create  the  outward  show  of  being  deeply  imbued 
with  the  thoughts  and  struggles  of  the  times.  But  this  is  empty 
sham.  The  catchwords  in  vogue  are  scattered  through  the  works 
without  internal  sequence,  and  the  struggles  of  the  times  are 
merely  painted  on  the  outside.  It  is  a  phenomenon  observed  in 
every  kind  of  mania,  that  it  receives  its  special  coloring  from 
the  degree  of  culture  of  the  invalid,  and  from  the  views  prevail- 
ing at  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  The  Catholic  who  is  a  prey 
to  megalomania  fancies  he  is  the  pope ;  the  Jew,  that  he  is  the 
Messiah  ;  the  German,  that  he  is  the  Emperor  or  a  field  marshal ; 
the  Frenchman,  that  he  is  the  President  of  the  Republic.  In 
the  persecution  mania,  the  invalid  of  former  days  complained 
of  the  wickedness  and  knavery  of  magicians  and  witches  ;  to-day 
he  grumbles  because  his  imaginary  enemies  send  electric  streams 
through  his  nerves,  and  torment  him  with  magnetism.  The  de- 
generates of  to-day  chatter  of  socialism  and  Darwinism,  because 


708  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

these  words  and,  in  the  best  case,  the  ideas  connected  with  these 
are  in  current  use.  These  so-called  socialists  and  freethinking 
works  of  the  degenerate  as  little  advance  the  development  of 
society  towards  more  equitable  economic  forms,  and  more  rational 
views  of  the  relations  among  phenomena,  as  the  complaints  and 
descriptions  of  an  individual  suffering  from  persecution  mania, 
and  who  hold  electricity  responsible  for  his  disagreeable  sensa- 
tions, advance  the  knowledge  of  this  force  of  nature.  Those 
obscure  or  superficially  verbose  works  which  pretend  to  offer 
solutions  for  the  serious  questions  of  our  times,  or,  at  least,  to 
prepare  the  way  thereto,  are  even  impediments  and  causes  of 
delay,  because  they  bewilder  weak  or  unschooled  brains,  suggest 
to  them  erroneous  views,  and  make  them  either  more  inacces- 
sible to  rational  information  or  altogether  closed  to  it. 

The  reader  is  now  placed  at  those  points  of  view  whence  he 
can  see  the  new  aesthetic  tendencies  in  their  true  light  and  their 
real  shape.  It  will  be  the  task  of  the  following  books  to  demon- 
strate the  pathological  character  of  each  one  of  these  tendencies, 
and  to  inquire  what  particular  species  of  degenerate  delirium  or 
hysterical  psychological  process  they  are  related  to  or  identical 
with. 


PROGNOSIS 

As  long  as  the  vital  powers  of  an  individual,  as  of  a  race,  are 
not  wholly  consumed,  the  organism  makes  efforts  actively  or 
passively  to  adapt  itself,  by  seeking  to  modify  injurious  condi- 
tions, or  by  adjusting  itself  in  some  way  so  that  conditions 
impossible  to  modify  should  be  as  little  noxious  as  possible. 
Degenerates,  hysterics,  and  neurasthenics  are  not  capable  of 
adaptation.  Therefore  they  are  fated  to  disappear.  That  which 
inexorably  destroys  them  is  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  come 
to  terms  with  reality.  They  are  lost,  whether  they  are  alone  in 
the  world,  or  whether  there  are  people  with  them  who  are  still 
sane,  or  more  sane  than  they,  or  at  least  curable. 

They  are  lost  if  they  are  alone  ;  for  antisocial,  inattentive, 
without  judgment  or  prevision,  they  are  capable  of  no  useful 


DEGENERATION 


709 


individual  effort,  and  still  less  of  a  common  labor  which  demands 
obedience,  discipline,  and  the  regular  performance  of  duty.  They 
fritter  away  their  life  in  solitary,  unprofitable,  aesthetic  debauch, 
and  all  that  their  organs,  which  are  in  full  regression,  are  still 
good  for  is  enervating  enjoyment.  Like  bats  in  old  towers,  they 
are  niched  in  the  proud  monument  of  civilization,  which  they 
have  found  ready-made,  but  they  themselves  can  construct  noth- 
ing more,  nor  prevent  any  deterioration.  They  live,  like  para- 
sites, on  labor  which  past  generations  have  accumulated  for  them ; 
and  when  the  heritage  is  once  consumed,  they  are  condemned  to 
die  of  hunger. 

But  they  are  still  more  surely  and  rapidly  lost  if,  instead  of 
being  alone  in  the  world,  healthy  beings  yet  live  at  their  side. 
For  in  that  case  they  have  to  fight  in  the  struggle  for  existence, 
and  there  is  no  leisure  for  them  to  perish  in  a  slow  decay  by 
their  own  incapacity  for  work.  The  normal  man,  with  his  clear 
mind,  logical  thought,  sound  judgment,  and  strong  will,  sees, 
where  the  degenerate  only  gropes  ;  he  plans  and  acts,  where  the 
latter  dozes  and  dreams  ;  he  drives  him  without  effort  from  all 
the  places  where  the  lifesprings  of  nature  bubble  up,  and,  in 
possession  of  all  the  good  things  of  this  earth,  he  leaves  to  the 
impotent  degenerate  at  most  the  shelter  of  the  hospital,  lunatic 
asylum,  and  prison,  in  contemptuous  pity.  Let  us  imagine  the 
driveling  Zoroaster  of  Nietzsche,  with  his  cardboard  lions,  eagles, 
and  serpents  from  a  toyshop,  or  the  noctambulist  Des  Esseintes 
of  the  decadents,  sniffing  and  licking  his  lips,  or  Ibsen's  "soli- 
tary powerful "  Stockmann,  and  his  Rosmer  lusting  for  suicide, 
—  let  us  imagine  these  beings  in  competition  with  men  who  rise 
early,  and  are  not  weary  before  sunset,  who  have  clear  heads, 
solid  stomachs,  and  hard  muscles :  the  comparison  will  provoke 
our  laughter. 

Degenerates  must  succumb,  therefore.  They  can  neither  adapt 
themselves  to  the  conditions  of  nature  and  civilization,  nor  main- 
tain themselves  in  the  struggle  for  existence  against  the  healthy. 
But  the  latter  —  and  the  vast  masses  of  the  people  still  include 
unnumbered  millions  of  them  —  will  rapidly  and  easily  adapt 
themselves  to  the  conditions  which  new  inventions  have  created 


yio  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

in  humanity.  Those  who,  by  marked  deficiency  of  organization, 
are  unable  to  do  so,  among  the  generation  taken  unawares  by 
these  inventions,  fall  out  of  the  ranks ;  they  become  hysterical 
and  neurasthenical,  engender  degenerates,  and  in  these  end  their 
race ;  but  the  more  vigorous,  although  they  at  first  also  have 
become  bewildered  and  fatigued,  recover  themselves  little  by 
little,  their  descendants  accustom  themselves  to  the  rapid  prog- 
ress which  humanity  must  make,  and  soon  their  slow  respiration 
and  their  quieter  pulsations  of  the  heart  will  prove  that  it  no 
longer  costs  them  any  effort  to  keep  pace  and  keep  up  with  the 
others.  The  end  of  the  twentieth  century,  therefore,  will  prob- 
ably see  a  generation  to  whom  it  will  not  be  injurious  to  read  a 
dozen  square  yards  of  newspapers  daily,  to  be  constantly  called 
to  the  telephone,  to  be  thinking  simultaneously  of  the  five  con- 
tinents of  the  world,  to  live  half  their  time  in  a  railway  carriage 
or  in  a  flying  machine,  and  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  a  circle 
of  ten  thousand  acquaintances,  associates,  and  friends.  It  will 
know  how  to  find  its  ease  in  the  midst  of  a  city  inhabited  by  mil- 
lions, and  will  be  able,  with  nerves  of  gigantic  vigor,  to  respond 
without  haste  or  agitation  to  the  almost  innumerable  claims  of 
existence. 

If,  however,  the  new  civilization  should  decidedly  outstrip  the 
powers  of  humanity,  if  even  the  most  robust  of  the  species  should 
not  in  the  long  run  grow  up  to  it,  then  ulterior  generations  will 
settle  with  it  in  another  way.  They  will  simply  give  it  up.  For 
humanity  has  a  sure  means  of  defense  against  innovations  which 
impose  a  destructive  effort  on  its  nervous  system,  namely,  "  mis- 
oneism,"  that  instinctive,  invincible  aversion  to  progress  and  its 
difficulties  that  Lombroso  has  studied  so  much,  and  to  which  he 
has  given  this  name.  Misoneism  protects  man  from  changes  of 
which  the  suddenness  or  the  extent  would  be  baneful  to  him. 
But  it  does  not  only  appear  as  resistance  to  the  acceptation  of 
the  new ;  it  has  another  aspect,  to  wit,  the  abandonment  and 
gradual  elimination  of  inventions  imposing  claims  too  hard  on 
man.  We  see  savage  races  who  die  out  when  the  power  of  the 
white  man  makes  it  impossible  for  them  to  shut  out  civilization; 
but  we  see  also  some  who  hasten  with  joy  to  tear  off  and  throw 


DEGENERATION 


711 


away  the  stiff  collar  imposed  by  civilization,  as  soon  as  constraint 
is  removed.  I  need  only  recall  the  anecdote,  related  in  detail  by 
Darwin,  of  the  Fuegian  Jemmy  Button,  who,  taken  as  a  child  to 
England  and  brought  up  in  that  country,  returned  to  his  own 
land  in  the  patent-leather  shoes  and  gloves  and  what  not  of 
fashionable  attire,  but  who,  when  scarcely  landed,  threw  off  the 
spell  of  all  this  foreign  lumber  for  which  he  was  not  ripe,  and 
became  again  a  savage  among  savages.  During  the  period  of 
the  great  migrations,  the  barbarians  constructed  blockhouses 
in  the  shadow  of  the  marble  palaces  of  the  Romans  they  had 
conquered,  and  preserved  of  Roman  institutions,  inventions, 
arts,  and  sciences  only  those  which  were  easy  and  pleasant  to 
bear.  Humanity  has,  to-day  as  much  as  ever,  the  tendency  to 
reject  all  that  it  cannot  digest.  If  future  generations  come 
to  find  that  the  march  of  progress  is  too  rapid  for  them,  they 
will  after  a  time  composedly  give  it  up.  They  will  saunter  along 
at  their  own  pace  or  stop  as  they  choose.  They  will  suppress 
the  distribution  of  letters,  allow  railways  to  disappear,  banish 
telephones  from  dwelling  houses,  preserving  them  only,  perhaps, 
for  the  service  of  the  state,  will  prefer  weekly  papers  to  daily 
journals,  will  quit  cities  to  return  to  the  country,  will  slacken 
the  changes  of  fashion,  will  simplify  the  occupations  of  the  day 
and  year,  and  will  grant  the  nerves  some  rest  again.  Thus 
adaptation  will  be  effected  in  any  case,  either  by  the  increase  of 
nervous  power,  or  by  the  renunciation  of  acquisitions  which  exact 
too  much  from  the  nervous  system. 

As  to  the  future  of  art  and  literature,  with  which  these  in- 
quiries are  chiefly  concerned,  that  can  be  predicted  with  tolerable 
clearness.  I  resist  the  temptation  of  looking  into  too  remote  a 
.future.  Otherwise  I  should  perhaps  prove,  or  at  least  show 
as  very  probable,  that  in  the  mental  life  of  centuries  far  ahead 
of  us  art  and  poetry  will  occupy  but  a  very  insignificant  place. 
Psychology  teaches  us  that  the  course  of  development  is  from 
instinct  to  knowledge,  from  emotion  to  judgment,  from  rambling 
to  regulated  association  of  ideas.  Attention  replaces  fugitive 
ideation  ;  will,  guided  by  reason,  replaces  caprice.  Observation, 
then,  triumphs  ever  more  and  more  over  imagination  and  artistic 


712     .          SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

symbolism,  —  i.e.  the  introduction  of  erroneous  personal  inter- 
pretations of  the  universe  is  more  and  more  driven  back  by  an 
understanding  of  the  laws  of  nature.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
march  followed  hitherto  by  civilization  gives  us  an  idea  of  the  fate 
which  may  be  reserved  for  art  and  poetry  in  a  very  distant  future. 
That  which  originally  was  the  most  important  occupation  of  men 
of  full  mental  development,  of  the  maturest,  best,  and  wisest 
members  of  society,  becomes  little  by  little  a  subordinate  pas- 
time, and  finally  a  child's  amusement.  Dancing  was  formerly  an 
extremely  important  affair.  It  was  performed  on  certain  grand 
occasions,  as  a  state  function  of  the  first  order,  with  solemn  cere- 
monies, after  sacrifices  and  invocations  to  the  gods,  by  the  lead- 
ing warriors  of  the  tribe.  To-day  it  is  no  more  than  a  fleeting 
pastime  for  women  and  youths,  and  later  on  its  last  atavistic  sur- 
vival will  be  the  dancing  of  children.  The  fable  and  the  fairy  tale 
were  once  the  highest  productions  of  the  human  mind.  In  them 
the  most  hidden  wisdom  of  the  tribe  and  its  most  precious  tra- 
ditions were  expressed.  To-day  they  represent  a  species  of  litera- 
ture only  cultivated  for  the  nursery.  The  verse  which  by  rhythm, 
figurative  expression,  and  rhyme  trebly  betrays  its  origin  in  the 
stimulations  of  rhythmically  functioning  subordinate  organs,  in 
association  of  ideas  working  according  to  external  similitudes, 
and  in  that  working  according  to  consonance,  was  originally  the 
only  form  of  literature.  To-day  it  is  only  employed  for  purely 
emotional  portrayal ;  for  all  other  purposes  it  has  been  conquered 
by  prose,  and,  indeed,  has  almost  passed  into  the  condition  of 
an  atavistic  language.  Under  our  very  eyes  the  novel  is  being 
increasingly  degraded,  serious  and  highly  cultivated  men  scarcely 
deeming  it  worthy  of  attention,  and  it  appeals  more  and  more 
exclusively  to  the  young  and  to  women.  From  all  these  examples, 
it  is  fair  to  conclude  that  after  some  centuries  art  and  poetry 
will  have  become  pure  atavisms,  and  will  no  longer  be  cultivated 
except  by  the  most  emotional  portion  of  humanity,  —  by  women, 
by  the  young,  perhaps  even  by  children. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  I  merely  venture  on  these  passing  hints 
as  to  their  yet  remote  destinies,  and  will  confine  myself  to  the 
immediate  future,  which  is  far  more  certain. 


DEGENERATION 


713 


In  all  countries  aesthetic  theorists  and  critics  repeat  the  phrase 
that  the  forms  hitherto  employed  by  art  are  henceforth  effete 
and  useless,  and  that  it  is  preparing  something  perfectly  new, 
absolutely  different  from  all  that  is  yet  known.  Richard  Wagner 
first  spoke  of  the  "art  work  of  the  future,"  and  hundreds  of 
incapable  imitators  lisp  the  term  after  him.  Some  among  them 
go  so  far  as  to  try  to  impose  upon  themselves  and  the  world  that 
some  inexpressive  banality,  or  some  pretentious  inanity  which 
they  have  patched  up,  is  this  art  work  of  the  future.  But  all 
these  talks  about  sunrise,  the  dawn,  new  land,  etc.,  are  only  the 
twaddle  of  degenerates  incapable  of  thought.  The  idea  that  to- 
morrow morning  at  half-past  seven  o'clock  a  monstrous,  unsus- 
pected event  will  suddenly  take  place ;  that  on  Thursday  next  a 
complete  revolution  will  be  accomplished  at  a  single  blow,  that  a 
revelation,  a  redemption,  the  advent  of  a  new  age,  is  imminent, 
—  this  is  frequently  observed  among  the  insane  ;  it  is  a  mystic 
delirium.  Reality  knows  not  these  sudden  changes.  Even  the 
great  Revolution  in  France,  although  it  was  directly  the  work  of 
a  few  ill-regulated  minds  like  Marat  and  Robespierre,  did  not 
penetrate  far  into  the  depths,  as  has  been  shown  by  H.  Taine 
and  proved  by  the  ulterior  progress  of  history;  it  changed  the 
outer  more  than  the  inner  relations  of  the  French  social  organism. 
All  development  is  carried  on  slowly ;  the  day  after  is  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  day  before  ;  every  new  phenomenon  is  the  out- 
come of  a  more  ancient  one,  and  preserves  a  family  resemblance 
to  it.  "One  would  say,"  observes  Renan  with  quiet  irony,  "that 
the  young  have  neither  read  the  history  of  philosophy  nor  Ecclesi- 
astes,  '  The  thing  that  hath  been,  it  is  that  which  shall  be.'  " 
The  art  and  poetry  of  to-morrow,  in  all  essential  points,  will  be  the 
art  and  poetry  of  to-day  and  yesterday,  and  the  spasmodic  seeking 
for  new  forms  is  nothing  more  than  hysterical  vanity,  the  freaks 
of  strolling  players  and  charlatanism.  Its  sole  result  has  hitherto 
been  childish  declamation,  with  colored  lights  and  changing  per- 
fumes as  accompaniments,  and  atavistic  games  of  shadows  and  pan- 
tomimes, nor  will  it  produce  anything  more  serious  in  the  future. 

New  forms !  Are  not  the  ancient  forms  flexible  and  ductile 
enough  to  lend  expression  to  every  sentiment  and  every  thought  ? 


714  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Has  a  true  poet  ever  found  any  difficulty  in  pouring  into  known 
and  standard  forms  that  which  surged  within  him  and  demanded 
an  issue  ?  Has  form,  for  that  matter,  the  dividing,  predetermin- 
ing, and  delimitating  importance  which  dreamers  and  simpletons 
attribute  to  it  ?  The  forms  of  lyric  poetry  extend  from  the  birth- 
day rhyming  of  the  "popular  poet  of  the  occasion,"  who  works 
to  order  and  publishes  his  address  in  the  paper,  to  Schiller's 
Lay  of  the  Bell;  dramatic  form  includes  at  the  same  time  the 
Geschundener  Raubritter  ("The  Highwayman  Fleeced"),  acted 
some  time  ago  at  Berlin,  and  Goethe's  Faust ;  the  epic  form  em- 
braces Kortum's  Jobsiade  and  Dante's  Divina  Commedia,  Heinz 
Tovote's  Im  Liebesrauche  and  Thackeray's  Vanity  Fair.  And 
yet  there  are  bleatings  for  "new  forms"?  If  such  there  be, 
they  will  give  no  talent  to  the  incapable,  and  those  who  have 
talent  know  how  to  create  something  even  within  the  limits  of 
old  forms.  The  most  important  thing  is  the  having  something 
to  say.  Whether  it  be  said  under  a  lyric,  dramatic,  or  epic  form 
is  of  no  essential  consequence,  and  the  author  will  not  easily  feel 
the  necessity  of  leaving  these  forms  in  order  to  invent  some  daz- 
zling novelty  in  which  to  clothe  his  ideas.  The  history  of  art 
and  poetry  teaches  us,  moreover,  that  new  forms  have  not  been 
found  for  three  thousand  years.  The  old  ones  have  been  given 
by  the  nature  of  human  thought  itself.  They  would  only  be  able 
to  change  if  the  form  of  our  thought  itself  became  changed. 
There  is,  of  course,  evolution,  but  it  only  affects  externals,  not 
our  inmost  being.  The  painter,  for  example,  discovers  the  picture 
on  the  easel  after  the  picture  on  the  wall ;  sculpture,  after  the 
free  figure,  discovers  high  relief,  and  still  later  low  relief,  which 
already  intrenches  in  a  way  not  free  from  objection  on  the 
domain  of  the  painter ;  the  drama  renounces  its  supernatural 
character,  and  learns  to  unfold  itself  in  a  more  compact  and  con- 
densed exposition  ;  the  epos  abandons  rhythmic  language,  and 
makes  use  of  prose,  etc.  In  these  questions  of  detail  evolution 
will  continue  to  operate,  but  there  will  be  no  modification  in  the 
fundamental  lines  of  the  different  modes  of  expression  for  human 
emotion. 


DEGENERATION  7 1 5 

Additional  References  : 

Lester  F.  Ward,  Outlines  of  Sociology,  Part  II.  Lester  F.  Ward, 
Dynamic  Sociology,  chap.  x.  Brooks  Adams,  The  Law  of  Civilization  and 
Decay.  D.  G.  Ritchie,  Darwinism  and  Politics.  A.  G.  Warner,  American 
Charities,  Part  I,  chap.  v.  Vacher  de  Lapouge,  Les  Selections  Sociales, 
chaps,  viii-xv.  T.  R.  Malthus,  Principle  of  Population.  H.  Bosanquet,  The 
Standard  of  Life.  W.  H.  Mallock,  Aristocracy  and  Evolution.  T.  V.  Veb- 
len,  The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class.  W.  S.  Jevons,  Methods  of  Social 
Reform.  Jane  Addams  and  others,  Philanthropy  and  Social  Progress. 
E.  Demolins,  Anglo-Saxon  Superiority.  Thomas  H.  Huxley,  Evolution  and 
Ethics.  Georg  Simmel,  Ueber  Sociale  Differencierung.  £mile  Durkheim, 
De  la  Division  du  Travail  Social.  Achille  Loria,  The  Economic  Founda- 
tions of  Society.  Achille  Loria,  Problemes  Sociaux  Contemporains,  chap.  vi. 

[In  one  sense  the  entire  literature  of  economics  and  social  science  might 
be  included  in  these  Additional  References.  The  purpose  has  been,  how- 
ever, to  include  only  such  works  as  have  brought  out,  in  a  significant  man- 
ner, the  direct  relation  of  certain  economic  and  social  facts  to  the  general 
progress  of  society.  Even  within  this  narrow  field  the  compiler  has  selected 
his  references  sparingly  in  order  to  avoid  confusing  the  reader.  —  ED.] 


D.  THE  POLITICAL  AND  LEGAL  FACTORS 
XXXI 

TALK1 

We  may  rail  at  "  mere  talk  "  as  much  as  we  please,  but  the 
probability  is  that  the  affairs  of  nations  and  of  men  will  be  more 
and  more  regulated  by  talk.  The  amount  of  talk  which  is  now 
expended  on  all  subjects  of  human  interest — and  in  "talk"  I 
include  contributions  to  periodical  literature  —  is  something  of 
which  a  previous  age  has  had  the  smallest  conception.  Of 
course  it  varies  infinitely  in  quality.  A  very  large  proportion  of 
it  does  no  good  beyond  relieving  the  feelings  of  the  talker.  Politi- 
cal philosophers  maintain,  and  with  good  reason,  that  one  of  its 
greatest  uses  is  keeping  down  discontent  under  popular  govern- 
ment. It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  it  is  an  immense  relief  to  a 
man  with  a  grievance  to  express  his  feelings  about  it  in  words, 
even  if  he  knows  that  his  words  will  have  no  immediate  effect. 
Self-love  is  apt  to  prevent  most  men  from  thinking  that  anything 
they  say  with  passion  or  earnestness  will  utterly  and  finally  fail. 
But  still  it  is  safe  to  suppose  that  one  half  of  the  talk  of  the 
world  on  subjects  of  general  interest  is  waste.  But  the  other 
half  certainly  tells.  We  know  this  from  the  change  in  ideas  from 
generation  to  generation.  We  see  that  opinions  which  at  one  time 
everybody  held  became  absurd  in  the  course  of  half  a  century, 
—  opinions  about  religion  and  morals  and  manners  and  govern- 
ment. Nearly  every  man  of  my  age  can  recall  old  opinions  of 
his  own,  on  subjects  of  general  interest,  which  he  once  thought 
highly  respectable,  and  which  he  is  now  almost  ashamed  of  having 
ever  held.  He  does  not  remember  when  he  changed  them,  or 

1  From  Problems  of  Modern  Democracy,  by  Edward  Lawrence  Godkin, 
pp.  221-224  (copyright,  1896,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons). 

716 


TALK 


717 


why,  but  somehow  they  have  passed  away  from  him.  In  com- 
munities these  changes  are  often  very  striking.  The  transforma- 
tion, for  instance,  of  the  England  of  Cromwell  into  the  England 
of  Queen  Anne,  or  of  the  New  England  of  Cotton  Mather 
into  the  New  England  of  Theodore  Parker  and  Emerson,  was 
very  extraordinary,  but  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  say  in  detail 
what  brought  it  about,  or  when  it  began.  Lecky  has  some  curi- 
ous observations,  in  his  History  of  Rationalism,  on  these  silent 
changes  in  new  beliefs  apropos  of  the  disappearance  of  the  belief 
in  witchcraft.  Nobody  could  say  what  had  swept  it  away,  but  it 
appeared  that  in  a  certain  year  people  were  ready  to  burn  old 
women  as  witches,  and  a  few  years  later  were  ready  to  laugh  at 
or  pity  any  one  who  thought  old  women  could  be  witches.  "At 
one  period,"  says  he,  "we  find  every  one  disposed  to  believe  in 
witches  ;  at  a  later  period  we  find  this  predisposition  has  silently 
passed  away."  The  belief  in  witchcraft  may  perhaps  be  con- 
sidered a  somewhat  violent  illustration,  like  the  change  in  public 
opinion  about  slavery  in  this  country.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  it  is  talk  —  somebody's,  anybody's,  everybody's  talk  —  by 
which  these  changes  are  wrought,  by  which  each  generation 
comes  to  feel  and  think  differently  from  its  predecessor.  No  one 
ever  talks  freely  about  anything  without  contributing  something, 
let  it  be  ever  so  little,  to  the  unseen  forces  which  carry  the  race 
on  to  its  final  destiny.  Even  if  he  does  not  make  a  positive 
impression,  he  counteracts  or  modifies  some  other  impression, 
or  sets  in  motion  some  train  of  ideas  in  some  one  else,  which 
helps  to  change  the  face  of  the  world.  So  I  shall,  in  disregard 
of  the  great  laudation  of  silence  which  filled  the  earth  in  the 
days  of  Carlyle,  say  that  one  of  the  functions  of  an  educated 
man  is  to  talk,  and,  of  course,  he  should  try  to  talk  wisely. 


XXXII 

THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION1 

The  greatest  living  contrast  is  between  the  old  Eastern  and 
customary  civilizations  and  the  new  Western  and  changeable 
civilizations.  A  year  or  two  ago  an  inquiry  was  made  of  our 
most  intelligent  officers  in  the  East,  not  as  to  whether  the 
English  government  were  really  doing  good  in  the  East,  but  as 
to  whether  the  natives  of  India  themselves  thought  we  were 
doing  good ;  to  which,  in  a  majority  of  cases,  the  officers,  who 
were  the  best  authority,  answered  thus  :  "  No  doubt  you  are 
giving  the  Indians  many  great  benefits  :  you  give  them  continued 
peace,  free  trade,  the  right  to  live  as  they  like,  subject  to  the 
laws  ;  in  these  points  and  others  they  are  far  better  off  than 
they  ever  were ;  but  still  they  cannot  make  you  out.  What 
puzzles  them  is  your  constant  disposition  to  change,  or,  as  you 
call  it,  improvement.  Their  own  life  in  every  detail  being  regu- 
lated by  ancient  usage,  they  cannot  comprehend  a  policy  which 
is  always  bringing  something  new ;  they  do  not  a  bit  believe 
that  the  desire  to  make  them  comfortable  and  happy  is  the  root 
of  it ;  they  believe,  on  the  contrary,  that  you  are  aiming  at 
something  which  they  do  not  understand,  —  that  you  mean  to 
'  take  away  their  religion ' ;  in  a  word,  that  the  end  and  object 
of  all  these  continual  changes  is  to  make  Indians  not  what  they 
are  and  what  they  like  to  be,  but  something  new  and  different 
from  what  they  are,  and  what  they  would  not  like  to  be."  In  the 
East,  in  a  word,  we  are  attempting  to  put  new  wine  into  old 
bottles,  —  to  pour  what  we  can  of  a  civilization  whose  spirit  is 
progress  into  the  form  of  a  civilization  whose  spirit  is  fixity,  and 
whether  we  shall  succeed  or  not  is  perhaps  the  most  interesting 
question  in  an  age  abounding  almost  beyond  example  in  questions 
of  political  interest. 

1  From  Physics  and  Politics,  by  Walter  Bagehot,  pp.  156-204.  D.  Appleton 
&  Co.,  New  York. 

718 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  719 

Historical  inquiries  show  that  the  feeling  of  the  Hindus  is  the 
old  feeling,  and  that  the  feeling  of  the  Englishman  is  a  modern 
feeling.  "  Old  law  rests,"  as  Sir  Henry  Maine  puts  it,  "  not  on 
contract  but  on  status."  The  life  of  ancient  civilization,  so  far  as 
legal  records  go,  runs  back  to  a  time  when  every  important  par- 
ticular of  life  was  settled  by  a  usage  which  was  social,  political, 
and  religious,  as  we  should  now  say,  all  in  one,  —  which  those 
who  obeyed  it  could  not  have  been  able  to  analyze,  for  those 
distinctions  had  no  place  in  their  mind  and  language,  but  which 
they  felt  to  be  a  usage  of  imperishable  import,  and  above  all 
things  to  be  kept  unchanged.  In  former  papers  I  have  shown, 
or  at  least  tried  to  show,  why  these  customary  civilizations  were 
the  only  ones  which  suited  an  early  society ;  why,  so  to  say, 
they  alone  could  have  been  first  ;  in  what  manner  they  had  in 
their  very  structure  a  decisive  advantage  over  all  competitors. 
But  now  comes  the  further  question :  If  fixity  is  an  invariable 
ingredient  in  early  civilizations,  how  then  did  any  civilization 
become  unfixed  ?  No  doubt  most  civilizations  stuck  where  they 
first  were ;  no  doubt  we  see  now  why  stagnation  is  the  rule  of 
the  world,  and  why  progress  is  the  very  rare  exception ;  but  we 
do  not  learn  what  it  is  which  has  caused  progress  in  these  few 
cases,  or  the  absence  of  what  it  is  which  has  denied  it  in  all 
others. 

To  this  question  history  gives  a  very  clear  and  very  remark- 
able answer.  It  is  that  the  change  from  the  age  of  status  to  the 
age  of  choice  was  first  made  in  states  where  the  government 
was  to  a  great  and  a  growing  extent  a  government  by  discussion, 
and  where  the  subjects  of  that  discussion  were  in  some  degree 
abstract,  or,  as  we  should  say,  matters  of  principle.  It  was  in 
the  small  republics  of  Greece  and  Italy  that  the  chain  of  custom 
was  first  broken.  "  Liberty  said,  Let  there  be  light,  and,  like  a 
sunrise  on  the  sea,  Athens  arose,"  says  Shelley,  and  his  historical 
philosophy  is  in  this  case  far  more  correct  than  is  usual  with  him. 
A  free  state  —  a  state  with  liberty  —  means  a  state,  call  it 
republic  or  call  it  monarchy,  in  which  the  sovereign  power  is 
divided  among  many  persons,  and  in  which  there  is  the  freest 
possible  discussion  among  those  persons.  Of  these  the  Greek 


720  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

republics  were  the  first  in  history,  if  not  in  time,  and  Athens 
was  the  greatest  of  those  republics. 

After  the  event  it  is  easy  to  see  why  the  teaching  of  history 
should  be  this  and  nothing  else.  It  is  easy  to  see  why  the 
common  discussion  of  common  actions  or  common  interests 
should  become  the  root  of  change  and  progress.  In  early  society, 
originality  in  life  was  forbidden  and  repressed  by  the  fixed  rule  of 
life.  It  may  not  have  been  quite  so  much  so  in  ancient  Greece  as 
in  some  other  parts  of  the  world.  But  it  was  very  much  so  even 
there.  As  a  recent  writer  has  well  said,  "  Law  then  presented 
itself  to  men's  minds  as  something  venerable  and  unchangeable, 
as  old  as  the  city ;  it  had  been  delivered  by  the  founder  himself, 
when  he  laid  the  walls  of  the  city,  and  kindled  its  sacred  fire." 
An  ordinary  man  who  wished  to  strike  out  a  new  path,  to  begin 
a  new  and  important  practice  by  himself,  would  have  been  per- 
emptorily required  to  abandon  his  novelties  on  pain  of  death  ;  he 
was  deviating,  he  would  be  told,  from  the  ordinances  imposed 
by  the  gods  on  his  nation,  and  he  must  not  do  so  to  please  him- 
self. On  the  contrary,  others  were  deeply  interested  in  his 
actions.  If  he  disobeyed,  the  gods  might  inflict  grievous  harm 
on  all  the  people  as  wail  as  him.  Each  partner  in  the  most 
ancient  kind  of  partnerships  was  supposed  to  have  the  power 
of  attracting  the  wrath  of  the  divinities  on  the  entire  firm,  upon 
the  other  partners  quite  as  much  as  upon  himself.  The  quaking 
bystanders  in  a  superstitious  age  would  soon  have  slain  an  isolated 
bold  man  in  the  beginning  of  his  innovations.  What  Macaulay 
so  relied  on  as  the  incessant  source  of  progress  —  the  desire  of 
man  to  better  his  condition  —  was  not  then  permitted  to  work ; 
man  was  required  to  live  as  his  ancestors  had  lived. 

Still  further  away  from  those  times  were  the  "free  thought" 
and  the  "  advancing  sciences  "  of  which  we  now  hear  so  much. 
The  first  and  most  natural  subject  upon  which  human  thought 
concerns  itself  is  religion  ;  the  first  wish  of  the  half-emancipated 
thinker  is  to  use  his  reason  on  the  great  problems  of  human  des- 
tiny,—  to  find  out  whence  he  came  and  whither  he  goes,  to  form 
for  himself  the  most  reasonable  idea  of  God  which  he  can  form. 
But,  as  Mr.  Grote  happily  said,  "  This  is  usually  what  ancient  times 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  721 

would  not  let  a  man  do.  His  gens  or  his  (frparpia  required  him  to 
believe  as  they  believed."  Toleration  is  of  all  ideas  the  most 
modern,  because  the  notion  that  the  bad  religion  of  A  cannot 
impair,  here  or  hereafter,  the  welfare  of  B,  is,  strange  to  say,  a 
modern  idea.  And  the  help  of  "science,"  at  that  stage  of  thought, 
is  still  more  nugatory.  Physical  science,  as  we  conceive  it  —  that 
is,  the  systematic  investigation  of  external  nature  in  detail  —  did 
not  then  exist.  A  few  isolated  observations  on  surface  things  — 
a  half -correct  calendar,  secrets  mainly  of  priestly  invention,  and 
in  priestly  custody  —  were  all  that  was  then  imagined  ;  the  idea 
of  using  a  settled  study  of  nature  as  a  basis  for  the  discovery  of 
new  instruments  and  new  things  did  not  then  exist.  It  is  indeed 
a  modern  idea,  and  is  peculiar  to  a  few  European  countries  even 
yet.  In  the  most  intellectual  city  of  the  ancient  world,  in  its 
most  intellectual  age,  Socrates,  its  most  intellectual  inhabitant, 
discouraged  the  study  of  physics  because  they  engendered  un- 
certainty, and  did  not  augment  human  happiness.  The  kind  of 
knowledge  which  is  most  connected  with  human  progress  now 
was  that  least  connected  with  it  then. 

But  a  government  by  discussion,  if  it  can  be  borne,  at  once 
breaks  down  the  yoke  of  fixed  custom.  The  idea  of  the  two  is 
inconsistent.  As  far  as  it  goes,  the  mere  putting  up  of  a  subject 
to  discussion,  with  the  object  of  being  guided  by  that  discussion, 
is  a  clear  admission  that  that  subject  is  in  no  degree  settled  by 
established  rule,  and  that  men  are  free  to  choose  in  it.  It  is  an 
admission,  too,  that  there  is  no  sacred  authority,  —  no  one  tran- 
scendent and  divinely  appointed  man  whom  in  that  matter  the 
community  is  bound  to  obey.  And  if  a  single  subject  or  group 
of  subjects  be  once  admitted  to  discussion,  ere  long  the  habit  of 
discussion  comes  to  be  established,  the  sacred  charm  of  use  and 
wont  to  be  dissolved.  "  Democracy,"  it  has  been  said  in  modern 
times,  "  is  like  the  grave  ;  it  takes,  but  it  does  not  give."  The 
same  is  true  of  "  discussion."  Once  effectually  submit  a  subject 
to  that  ordeal,  and  you  can  never  withdraw  it  again;  you  can 
never  again  clothe  it  with  mystery,  or  fence  it  by  consecration ; 
it  remains  forever  open  to  free  choice,  and  exposed  to  profane 
deliberation. 


722  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

The  only  subjects  which  can  be  first  submitted,  or  which  till 
a  very  late  age  of  civilization  can  be  submitted  to  discussion  in 
the  community,  are  the  questions  involving  the  visible  and  press- 
ing interests  of  the  community ;  they  are  political  questions  of 
high  and  urgent  import.  If  a  nation  has  in  any  considerable 
degree  gained  the  habit,  and  exhibited  the  capacity,  to  discuss 
these  questions  with  freedom,  and  to  decide  them  with  discretion, 
to  argue  much  on  politics  and  not  to  argue  ruinously,  an  enor- 
mous advance  in  other  kinds  of  civilization  may  confidently  be 
predicted  for  it.  And  the  reason  is  a  plain  deduction  from  the 
principles  which  we  have  found  to  guide  early  civilization.  The 
first  prehistoric  men  were  passionate  savages,  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  coerced  into  order  and  compressed  into  a  state.  For 
ages  were  spent  in  beginning  that  order  and  founding  that  state  ; 
the  only  sufficient  and  effectual  agent  in  so  doing  was  consecrated 
custom  ;  but  then  that  custom  gathered  over  everything,  arrested 
all  onward  progress,  and  stayed  the  originality  of  mankind.  If, 
therefore,  a  nation  is  able  to  gain  the  benefit  of  custom  without 
the  evil,  —  if  after  ages  of  waiting  it  can  have  order  and  choice 
together,  —  at  once  the  fatal  clog  is  removed,  and  the  ordinary 
springs  of  progress,  as  in  a  modern  community  we  conceive  them, 
begin  their  elastic  action. 

Discussion,  too,  has  incentives  to  progress  peculiar  to  itself. 
It  gives  a  premium  to  intelligence.  To  set  out  the  arguments 
required  to  determine  political  action  with  such  force  and  effect 
that  they  really  should  determine  it  is  a  high  and  great  exertion 
of  intellect.  Of  course  all  such  arguments  are  produced  under 
conditions ;  the  argument  abstractedly  best  is  not  necessarily 
the  winning  argument.  Political  discussion  must  move  those 
who  have  to  act ;  it  must  be  framed  in  the  ideas,  and  be  conso- 
nant with  the  precedent,  of  its  time,  just  as  it  must  speak  its  lan- 
guage. But  within  these  marked  conditions  good  discussion  is 
better  than  bad  ;  no  people  can  bear  a  government  of  discussion 
for  a  day,  which  does  not,  within  the  boundaries  of  its  prejudices 
and  its  ideas,  prefer  good  reasoning  to  bad  reasoning,  sound  argu- 
ment to  unsound.  A  prize  for  argumentative  mind  is  given  in 
free  states,  to  which  no  other  states  have  anything  to  compare. 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  723 

Tolerance,  too,  is  learned  in  discussion,  and,  as  history  shows, 
is  only  so  learned.  In  all  customary  societies  bigotry  is  the 
ruling  principle.  In  rude  places  to  this  day  any  one  who  says 
anything  new  is  looked  on  with  suspicion,  and  is  persecuted  by 
opinion  if  not  injured  by  penalty.  One  of  the  greatest  pains  to 
human  nature  is  the  pain  of  a  new  idea.  It  is,  as  common  people 
say,  so  "upsetting";  it  makes  you  think  that,  after  all,  your 
favorite  notions  may  be  wrong,  your  firmest  beliefs  ill  founded ; 
it  is  certain  that  till  now  there  was  no  place  allotted  in  your 
mind  to  the  new  and  startling  inhabitant,  and  now  that  it  has 
conquered  an  entrance,  you  do  not  at  once  see  which  of  your  old 
ideas  it  will  or  will  not  turn  out,  with  which  of  them  it  can  be 
reconciled,  and  with  which  it  is  at  essential  enmity.  Naturally, 
therefore,  common  men  hate  a  new  idea,  and  are  disposed  more 
or  less  to  illtreat  the  original  man  who  brings  it.  Even  nations 
with  long  habits  of  discussion  are  intolerant  enough.  In  England, 
where  there  is  on  the  whole  probably  a  freer  discussion  of  a 
greater  number  of  subjects  than  ever  was  before  in  the  world,  we 
know  how  much  power  bigotry  retains.  But  discussion,  to  be 
successful,  requires  tolerance.  It  fails  wherever,  as  in  a  French 
political  assembly,  any  one  who  hears  anything  which  he  dislikes 
tries  to  howl  it  down.  If  we  know  that  a  nation  is  capable  of 
enduring  continuous  discussion,  we  know  that  it  is  capable  of 
practicing  with  equanimity  continuous  tolerance. 

The  power  of  a  government  by  discussion  as  an  instrument  of 
elevation  plainly  depends  —  other  things  being  equal  —  on  the 
greatness  or  littleness  of  the  things  to  be  discussed.  There  are 
periods  when  great  ideas  are  "  in  the  air,"  and  when,  from  some 
cause  or  other,  even  common  persons  seem  to  partake  of  an 
unusual  elevation.  The  age  of  Elizabeth  in  England  was  con- 
spicuously such  a  time.  The  new  idea  of  the  Reformation  in 
religion,  and  the  enlargement  of  the  moenia  mundi  by  the  dis- 
covery of  new  and  singular  lands,  taken  together,  gave  an  impulse 
to  thought  which  few,  if  any,  ages  can  equal.  The  discussion, 
though  not  wholly  free,  was  yet  far  freer  than  in  the  average  of 
ages  and  countries.  Accordingly  every  pursuit  seemed  to  start 
forward.  Poetry,  science,  and  architecture,  different  as  they  are, 


724  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  removed  as  they  all  are  at  first  sight  from  such  an  influence 
as  discussion,  were  suddenly  started  onward.  Macaulay  would 
have  said  you  might  rightly  read  the  power  of  discussion  "  in  the 
poetry  of  Shakespeare,  in  the  prose  of  Bacon,  in  the  oriels  of 
Longleat,  and  the  stately  pinnacles  of  Burleigh."  This  is,  in 
truth,  but  another  case  of  the  principle  of  which  I  have  had  occa- 
sion to  say  so  much  as  to  the  character  of  ages  and  countries. 
If  any  particular  power  is  much  prized  in  an  age,  those  possessed 
of  that  power  will  be  imitated  ;  those  deficient  in  that  power  will 
be  despised.  In  consequence  an  unusual  quantity  of  that  power 
will  be  developed,  and  be  conspicuous.  Within  certain  limits 
vigorous  and  elevated  thought  was  respected  in  Elizabeth's  time, 
and,  therefore,  vigorous  and  elevated  thinkers  were  many;  and 
the  effect  went  far  beyond  the  cause.  It  penetrated  into  physical 
science,  for  which  very  few  men  cared ;  and  it  began  a  reform 
in  philosophy  to  which  almost  all  were  then  opposed.  In  a  word, 
the  temper  of  the  age  encouraged  originality,  and  in  consequence 
original  men  started  into  prominence,  went  hither  and  thither 
where  they  liked,  arrived  at  goals  which  the  age  never  expected, 
and  so  made  it  ever  memorable. 

In  this  manner  all  the  great  movements  of  thought  in  ancient 
and  modern  times  have  been  nearly  connected  in  time  with  gov- 
ernment by  discussion.  Athens,  Rome,  the  Italian  republics  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  the  communes  and  states-general  of  feudal 
Europe,  have  all  had  a  special  and  peculiar  quickening  influence, 
which  they  owed  to  their  freedom,  and  which  states  without  that 
freedom  have  never  communicated.  And  it  has  been  at  the  time 
of  great  epochs  of  thought  —  at  the  Peloponnesian  War,  at  the 
fall  of  the  Roman  Republic,  at  the  Reformation,  at  the  French 
Revolution  —  that  such  liberty  of  speaking  and  thinking  have 
produced  their  full  effect. 

It  is  on  this  account  that  the  discussions  of  savage  tribes  have 
produced  so  little  effect  in  emancipating  those  tribes  from  their 
despotic  customs.  The  oratory  of  the  North  American  Indian  — 
the  first  savage  whose  peculiarities  fixed  themselves  in  the  public 
imagination  —  has  become  celebrated,  and  yet  the  North  Ameri- 
can Indians  were  scarcely,  if  at  all,  better  orators  than  many 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION 


725 


other  savages.  Almost  all  of  the  savages  who  have  melted  away 
before  the  Englishman  were  better  speakers  than  he  is.  But  the 
oratory  of  the  savages  has  led  to  nothing,  and  was  likely  to  lead 
to  nothing.  It  is  a  discussion  not  of  principles  but  of  under- 
takings ;  its  topics  are  whether  expedition  A  will  answer,  and 
should  be  undertaken ;  whether  expedition  B  will  not  answer, 
and  should  not  be  undertaken ;  whether  village  A  is  the  best 
village  to  plunder,  or  whether  village  B  is  a  better.  Such  dis- 
cussions augment  the  vigor  of  language,  encourage  a  debating 
facility,  and  develop  those  gifts  of  demeanor  and  of  gesture 
which  excite  the  confidence  of  the  hearers.  But  they  do  not 
excite  the  speculative  intellect,  do  not  lead  men  to  argue  spec- 
ulative doctrines,  or  to  question  ancient  principles.  They,  in 
some  material  respects,  improve  the  sheep  within  the  fold;  but 
they  do  not  help  them  or  incline  them  to  leap  out  of  the  fold. 

The  next  question,  therefore,  is,  Why  did  discussions  in  some 
cases  relate  to  prolific  ideas,  and  why  did  discussions  in  other 
cases  relate  only  to  isolated  transactions  ?  The  reply  which 
history  suggests  is  very  clear  and  very  remarkable.  Some  races 
of  men  at  our  earliest  knowlege  of  them  have  already  acquired 
the  basis  of  a  free  constitution  ;  they  have  already  the  rudiments 
of  a  complex  polity,  — a  monarch,  a  senate,  and  a  general  meet- 
ing of  citizens.  The  Greeks  were  one  of  those  races,  and  it 
happened,  as  was  natural,  that  there  was  in  process  of  time  a 
struggle,  the  earliest  that  we  know  of,  between  the  aristocratical 
party,  originally  represented  by  the  senate,  and  the  popular 
party,  represented  by  the  "general  meeting."  This  is  plainly  a 
question  of  principle,  and  its  being  so  has  led  to  its  history  being 
written  more  than  two  thousand  years  afterwards  in  a  very 
remarkable  manner.  Some  seventy  years  ago  an  English  country 
gentleman  named  Mitford,  who,  like  so  many  of  his  age,  had 
been  terrified  into  aristocratic  opinions  by  the  first  French 
Revolution,  suddenly  found  that  the  history  of  the  Peloponnesian 
War  was  the  reflex  of  his  own  time.  He  took  up  his  Thucydides, 
and  there  he  saw,  as  in  a  mirror,  the  progress  and  the  struggles 
of  his  age.  It  required  some  freshness  of  mind  to  see  this ;  at 
least,  it  had  been  hidden  for  many  centuries.  All  the  modern 


726  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

histories  of  Greece  before  Mitford  had  but  the  vaguest  idea  of  it ; 
and  not  being  a  man  of  supreme  originality,  he  would  doubtless 
have  had  very  little  idea  of  it  either,  except  that  the  analogy  of 
what  he  saw  helped  him  by  a  telling  object  lesson  to  the  under- 
standing of  what  he  read.  Just  as  in  every  country  of  Europe 
in  1793  there  were  two  factions,  one  of  the  Old-World  aristocracy, 
and  the  other  of  the  incoming  democracy,  just  so  there  was  in 
every  city  of  ancient  Greece,  in  the  year  400  B.C.,  one  party  of 
the  many  and  another  of  the  few.  This  Mr.  Mitford  perceived, 
and  being  a  strong  aristocrat,  he  wrote  a  "  history,"  which  is  little 
except  a  party  pamphlet,  and  which,  it  must  be  said,  is  even 
now  readable  on  that  very  account.  The  vigor  of  passion  with 
which  it  was  written  puts  life  into  the  words,  and  retains  the 
attention  of  the  reader.  And  that  is  not  all.  Mr.  Grote,  the  great 
scholar  whom  we  have  had  lately  to  mourn,  also  recognizing  the 
identity  between  the  struggles  of  Athens  and  Sparta  and  the 
struggles  of  our  modern  world,  and  taking  violently  the  contrary 
side  to  that  of  Mitford,  being  as  great  a  democrat  as  Mitford 
was  an  aristocrat,  wrote  a  reply,  far  above  Mitford's  history  in 
power  and  learning,  but  being  in  its  main  characteristic  almost 
identical,  being  above  all  things  a  book  of  vigorous  political 
passion,  written  for  persons  who  care  for  politics,  and  not,  as 
almost  all  histories  of  antiquity  are  and  must  be,  the  book  of 
a  man  who  cares  for  scholarship  more  than  for  anything  else, 
written  mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  for  scholars.  And  the  effect 
of  fundamental  political  discussion  was  the  same  in  ancient  as 
in  modern  times.  All  the  customary  ways  of  thought  were  at 
once  shaken  by  it,  and  shaken  not  only  in  the  closets  of  philoso- 
phers but  in  the  common  thought  and  daily  business  of  ordinary 
men.  The  "  liberation  of  humanity,"  as  Goethe  used  to  call  it  — 
the  deliverance  of  men  from  the  yoke  of  inherited  usage,  and  of 
rigid,  unquestionable  law  —  was  begun  in  Greece,  and  had  many 
of  its  greatest  effects,  good  and  evil,  on  Greece.  It  is  just 
because  of  the  analogy  between  the  controversies  of  that  time 
and  those  of  our  times  that  some  one  has  said,  "  Classical  history 
is  a  part  of  modern  history ;  it  is  mediaeval  history  only  which 
is  ancient." 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  727 

If  there  had  been  no  discussion  of  principle  in  Greece,  prob- 
ably she  would  still  have  produced  works  of  art.  Homer  con- 
tains no  such  discussion.  The  speeches  in  the  Iliad,  which 
Mr.  Gladstone,  the  most  competent  of  living  judges,  maintains 
to  be  the  finest  ever  composed  by  man,  are  not  discussions  of 
principle.  There  is  no  more  tendency  in  them  to  critical  dis- 
quisition than  there  is  to  political  economy.  In  Herodotus  you 
have  the  beginning  of  the  age  of  discussion.  He  belongs  in  his 
essence  to  the  age  which  is  going  out.  He  refers  with  reverence 
to  established  ordinance  and  fixed  religion.  Still,  in  his  travels 
through  Greece,  he  must  have  heard  endless  political  arguments  ; 
and  accordingly  you  can  find  in  his  book  many  incipient  traces 
of  abstract  political  disquisition.  The  discourses  on  democracy, 
aristocracy,  and  monarchy,  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  the 
Persian  conspirators  when  the  monarchy  was  vacant,  have  justly 
been  called  absurd,  as  speeches  supposed  to  have  been  spoken 
by  those  persons.  No  Asiatic  ever  thought  of  such  things.  You 
might  as  well  imagine  Saul  or  David  speaking  them  as  those  to 
whom  Herodotus  attributes  them.  They  are  Greek  speeches, 
full  of  free  Greek  discussion,  and  suggested  by  the  experience, 
already  considerable,  of  the  Greeks  in  the  results  of  discussion. 
The  age  of  debate  is  beginning,  and  even  Herodotus,  the  least 
of  a  wrangler  of  any  man,  and  the  most  of  a  sweet  and  simple 
narrator,  felt  the  effect.  When  we  come  to  Thucydides,  the  re- 
sults of  discussion  are  as  full  as  they  have  ever  been  ;  his  light  is 
pure,  "  dry  light,"  free  from  the  "  humors  "  of  habit,  and  purged 
from  consecrated  usage.  As  Grote's  history  often  reads  like  a 
report  to  Parliament,  so  half  Thucydides  reads  like  a  speech,  or 
materials  for  a  speech,  in  the  Athenian  assembly.  Of  later 
times  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak.  Every  page  of  Aristotle  and 
Plato  bears  ample  and  indelible  trace  of  the  age  of  discussion  in 
which  they  lived ;  and  thought  cannot  possibly  be  freer.  The 
deliverance  of  the  speculative  intellect  from  traditional  and 
customary  authority  was  altogether  complete. 

No  doubt  the  "  detachment "  from  prejudice,  and  the  subjec- 
tion to  reason,  which  I  ascribe  to  ancient  Athens,  only  went 
down  a  very  little  way  among  the  population  of  it.  Two  great 


728  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

classes  of  the  people,  the  slaves  and  women,  were  almost  excluded 
from  such  qualities ;  even  the  free  population  doubtless  con- 
tained a  far  greater  proportion  of  very  ignorant  and  very  super- 
stitious persons  than  we  are  in  the  habit  of  imagining.  We  fix 
our  attention  on  the  best  specimens  of  Athenian  culture,  —  on 
the  books  which  have  descended  to  us,  —  and  we  forget  that  the 
corporate  action  of  the  Athenian  people  at  various  critical  junc- 
tures exhibited  the  most  gross  superstition.  Still,  as  far  as  the 
intellectual  and  cultivated  part  of  society  is  concerned,  the  tri- 
umph of  reason  was  complete  ;  the  minds  of  the  highest  philoso- 
phers were  then  as  ready  to  obey  evidence  and  reason  as  they 
have  ever  been  since ;  probably  they  were  more  ready.  The 
rule  of  custom  over  them  at  least  had  been  wholly  broken,  and 
the  primary  conditions  of  intellectual  progress  were  in  that 
respect  satisfied. 

It  may  be  said  that  I  am  giving  too  much  weight  to  the 
classical  idea  of  human  development ;  that  history  contains  the 
record  of  another  progress  as  well ;  that  in  a  certain  sense  there 
was  progress  in  Judaea  as  well  as  in  Athens.  And  unquestion- 
ably there  was  progress,  but  it  was  only  progress  upon  a  single 
subject.  If  we  except  religion  and  omit  also  all  that  the  Jews 
had  learned  from  foreigners,  it  may  be  doubted  if  there  be  much 
else  new  between  the  time  of  Samuel  and  that  of  Malachi.  In 
religion  there  was  progress,  but  without  it  there  was  not  any. 
This  was  due  to  the  cause  of  that  progress.  All  over  antiquity, 
all  over  the  East,  and  over  other  parts  of  the  world  which  pre- 
serve more  or  less  nearly  their  ancient  condition,  there  are  two 
classes  of  religious  teachers,  — one,  the  priests,  the  inheritors  of 
past  accredited  inspiration  ;  the  other,  the  prophet,  the  possessor 
of  a  like  present  inspiration.  Curtius  describes  the  distinction 
well  in  relation  to  the  condition  of  Greece  with  which  history 
first  presents  us. 

"  The  mantic  art  is  an  institution  totally  different  from  the 
priesthood.  It  is  based  on  the  belief  that  the  gods  are  in  con- 
stant proximity  to  men,  and  in  their  government  of  the  world, 
which  comprehends  everything,  both  great  and  small,  will  not 
disdain  to  manifest  their  will ;  nay,  it  seems  necessary  that, 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  729 

whenever  any  hitch  has  arisen  in  the  moral  system  of  the  human 
world,  this  should  also  manifest  itself  by  some  sign  in  the  world 
of  nature,  if  only  mortals  are  able  to  understand  and  avail  them- 
selves of  these  divine  hints. 

"  For  this  a  special  capacity  is  requisite  ;  not  a  capacity  which 
can  be  learned  like  a  human  art  or  science,  but  rather  a  peculiar 
state  of  grace  in  the  case  of  single  individuals  and  single  families 
whose  ears  and  eyes  are  opened  to  the  divine  revelations,  and 
who  participate  more  largely  than  the  rest  of  mankind  in  the 
divine  spirit.  Accordingly  it  is  their  office  and  calling  to  assert 
themselves  as  organs  of  the  divine  will ;  they  are  justified  in 
opposing  their  authority  to  every  power  of  the  world.  On  this 
head  conflicts  were  unavoidable,  and  the  reminiscences  living  in 
the  Greek  people,  of  the  agency  of  a  Tiresias  and  Calchas,  prove 
how  the  Heroic  kings  experienced  not  only  support  and  aid  but 
also  opposition  and  violent  protests  from  the  mouths  of  the  men 
of  prophecy." 

In  Judaea  there  was  exactly  the  same  opposition  as  elsewhere. 
All  that  is  new  comes  from  the  prophets  ;  all  which  is  old  is 
retained  by  the  priests.  But  the  peculiarity  of  Judaea — a  pecul- 
iarity which  I  do  not  for  a  moment  pretend  that  I  can  explain  — 
is  that  the  prophetic  revelations  are,  taken  as  a  whole,  indisputa- 
bly improvements ;  that  they  contain,  as  time  goes  on,  at  each 
succeeding  epoch,  higher  and  better  views  of  religion.  But  the 
peculiarity  is  not  to  my  present  purpose.  My  point  is  that  there 
is  no  such  spreading  impetus  in  progress  thus  caused  as  there  is 
in  progress  caused  by  discussion.  To  receive  a  particular  con- 
clusion upon  the  ipse  dixit,  upon  the  accepted  authority  of  an 
admired  instructor,  is  obviously  not  so  vivifying  to  the  argu- 
mentative and  questioning  intellect  as  to  argue  out  conclusions 
for  yourself.  Accordingly  the  religious  progress  caused  by  the 
prophets  did  not  break  down  that  ancient  code  of  authoritative 
usage.  On  the  contrary,  the  two  combined.  In  each  generation 
the  conservative  influence  "built  the  sepulchers  "  anfl  accepted 
the  teaching  of  past  prophets,  even  while  it  was  slaying  and  per- 
secuting those  who  were  living.  But  discussion  and  custom  can- 
not be  thus  combined  ;  their  "  method,"  as  modern  philosophers 


730  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

would  say,  is  antagonistic.  Accordingly,  the  progress  of  the 
classical  states  gradually  awakened  the  whole  intellect ;  that  of 
Judaea  was  partial  and  improved  religion  only.  And,  therefore, 
in  a  history  of  intellectual  progress,  the  classical  fills  the  superior 
and  the  Jewish  the  inferior  place ;  just  as  in  a  special  history  of 
theology  only,  the  places  of  the  two  might  be  interchanged. 

A  second  experiment  has  been  tried  on  the  same  subject- 
matter.  The  characteristic  of  the  Middle  Ages  may  be  approxi- 
mately —  though  only  approximately  —  described  as  a  return  to 
the  period  of  authoritative  usage  and  as  an  abandonment  of  the 
classical  habit  of  independent  and  self-choosing  thought.  I  do 
not  for  an  instant  mean  that  this  is  an  exact  description  of  the 
main  mediaeval  characteristic  ;  nor  can  I  discuss  how  far  that 
characteristic  was  an  advance  upon  those  of  previous  times  ;  its 
friends  say  it  is  far  better  than  the  peculiarities  of  the  classical 
period  ;  its  enemies,  that  it  is  far  worse.  But  both'  friends  and 
enemies  will  admit  that  the  most  marked  feature  of  the  Middle 
Ages  may  roughly  be  described  as  I  have  described  it.  And  my 
point  is  that  just  as  this  mediaeval  characteristic  was  that  of  a 
return  to  the  essence  of  the  customary  epoch  which  had  marked 
the  pre-Athenian  times,  so  it  was  dissolved  much  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  influence  of  Athens,  and  other  influences  like  it, 
claim  to  have  dissolved  that  customary  epoch. 

The  principal  agent  in  breaking  up  the  persistent  mediaeval 
customs,  which  were  so  fixed  that  they  seemed  likely  to  last  for- 
ever, or  till  some  historical  catastrophe  overwhelmed  them,  was 
the  popular  element  in  the  ancient  polity  which  was  everywhere 
diffused  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The  Germanic  tribes  brought  with 
them  from  their  ancient  dwelling  place  a  polity  containing,  like 
the  classical,  a  king,  a  council,  and  a  popular  assembly;  and  wher- 
ever they  went,  they  carried  these  elements  and  varied  them,  as 
force  compelled  or  circumstances  required.  As  far  as  England 
is  concerned,  the  excellent  dissertations  of  Mr.  Freeman  and 
Mr.  Stubbs  have  proved  this  in  the  amplest  manner,  and  brought 
it  home  to  persons  who  cannot  claim  to  possess  much  antiquarian 
learning.  The  history  of  the  English  constitution,  as  far  as  the 
world  cares  for  it,  is,  in  fact,  the  complex  history  of  the  popular 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  731 

element  in  this  ancient  polity,  which  was  sometimes  weaker  and 
sometimes  stronger,  but  which  has  never  died  out,  has  commonly 
possessed  great  though  varying  power,  and  is  now  entirely  pre- 
dominant. The  history  of  this  growth  is  the  history  of  the 
English  people  ;  and  the  discussions  about  this  constitution  and 
the  discussions  within  it,  the  controversies  as  to  its  structure 
and  the  controversies  as  to  its  true  effects,  have  mainly  trained 
the  English  political  intellect,  in  so  far  as  it  is  trained.  But  in 
much  of  Europe,  and  in  England  particularly,  the  influence  of 
religion  has  been  very  different  from  what  it  was  in  antiquity. 
It  has  been  an  influence  of  discussion.  Since  Luther's  time 
there  has  been  a  conviction,  more  or  less  rooted,  that  a  man  may 
by  an  intellectual  process  think  out  a  religion  for  himself,  and 
that,  as  the  highest  of  all  duties,  he  ought  to  do  so.  The  influ- 
ence of  the  political  discussion  and  the  influence  of  the  religious 
discussion  have  been  so  long  and  so  firmly  combined,  and  have 
so  effectually  enforced  one  another,  that  the  old  notions  of 
loyalty,  and  fealty,  and  authority,  as  they  existed  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  have  now  over  the  best  minds  almost  no  effect. 

It  is  true  that  the  influence  of  discussion  is  not  the  only 
force  which  has  produced  this  vast  effect.  Both  in  ancient  and 
in  modern  times  other  forces  cooperated  with  it.  Trade,  for  ex- 
ample, is  obviously  a  force  which  has  done  much  to  bring  men 
of  different  customs  and  different  beliefs  into  close  contiguity, 
and  has  thus  aided  to  change  the  customs  and  the  beliefs  of 
them  all.  Colonization  is  another  such  influence  :  it  settles  men 
among  aborigines  of  alien  race  and  usages,  and  it  commonly 
compels  the  colonists  not  to  be  overstrict  in  the  choice  of  their 
own  elements  ;  they  are  obliged  to  coalesce  with  and  "  adopt  " 
useful  bands  and  useful  men,  though  their  ancestral  customs  may 
not  be  identical,  nay,  though  they  may  be,  in  fact,  opposite 
to  their  own.  In  modern  Europe  the  existence  of  a  cosmopo- 
lite church,  claiming  to  be  above  nations,  and  really  extending 
through  nations,  and  the  scattered  remains  of  Roman  law  and 
Roman  civilization  cooperated  with  the  liberating  influence  of 
political  discussion.  And  so  did  other  causes  also.  But  per- 
haps in  no  case  have  these  subsidiary  causes  alone  been  able  to 


732  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

generate  intellectual  freedom ;  certainly  in  all  the  most  remark- 
able cases  the  influence  of  discussion  has  presided  at  the  creation 
of  that  freedom,  and  has  been  active  and  dominant  in  it. 

No  doubt  apparent  cases  of  exception  may  easily  be  found. 
It  may  be  said  that  in  the  court  of  Augustus  there  was  much 
general  intellectual  freedom,  an  almost  entire  detachment  from 
ancient  prejudice,  but  that  there  was  no  free  political  discussion 
at  all.  But,  then,  the  ornaments  of  that  time  were  derived  from 
a  time  of  great  freedom ;  it  was  the  republic  which  trained  the 
men  whom  the  empire  ruled.  The  close  congregation  of  most 
miscellaneous  elements  under  the  empire  was,  no  doubt,  of  itself 
unfavorable  to  inherited  prejudice,  and  favorable  to  intellectual 
exertion.  Yet,  except  in  the  instance  of  the  church,  which  is  a 
peculiar  subject  that  requires  a  separate  discussion,  how  little 
was  added  to  what  the  republic  left !  The  power  of  free  inter- 
change of  ideas  being  wanting,  the  ideas  themselves  were  barren. 
Also,  no  doubt,  much  intellectual  freedom  may  emanate  from 
countries  of  free  political  discussion,  and  penetrate  to  countries 
where  that  discussion  is  limited.  Thus  the  intellectual  freedom 
of  France  in  the  eighteenth  century  was  in  great  part  owing  to 
the  proximity  of  and  incessant  intercourse  with  England  and 
Holland.  Voltaire  resided  among  us ;  and  every  page  of  the 
Esprit  des  Lois  proves  how  much  Montesquieu  learned  from  liv- 
ing here.  But,  of  course,  it  was  only  part  of  the  French  culture 
which  was  so  derived :  the  germ  might  be  foreign,  but  the  tissue 
was  native.  And  very  naturally,  for  it  would  be  absurd  to 
call  the  ancien  regime  a  government  without  discussion :  dis- 
cussion abounded  there,  only,  by  reason  of  the  bad  form  of 
the  government,  it  was  never  sure  with  ease  and  certainty  to 
affect  political  action.  The  despotism  "  tempered  by  epigram  " 
was  a  government  which  permitted  argument  of  licentious 
freedom  within  changing  limits,  and  which  was  ruled  by  that 
argument  spasmodically  and  practically,  though  not  in  name  or 
consistently. 

But  though  in  the  earliest  and  in  the  latest  time  government 
by  discussion  has  been  a  principal  organ  for  improving  mankind, 
yet,  from  its  origin,  it  is  a  plant  of  singular  delicacy.  At  first 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  733 

the  chances  are  much  against  its  living.  In  the  beginning,  the 
members  of  a  free  state  are  of  necessity  few.  The  essence  of  it 
requires  that  discussion  shall  be  brought  home  to  those  members. 
But  in  early  time,  when  writing  is  difficult,  reading  rare,  and 
representation  undiscovered,  those  who  are  to  be  guided  by  the 
discussion  must  hear  it  with  their  own  ears,  must  be  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  orator,  and  must  feel  his  influence  for 
themselves.  The  first  free  states  were  little  towns,  smaller  than 
any  political  division  which  we  now  have,  except  the  republic  of 
Andora,  which  is  a  sort  of  vestige  of  them.  It  is  in  the  market 
place  of  the  country  town,  as  we  should  now  speak,  and  in  petty 
matters  concerning  the  market  town  that  discussion  began,  and 
thither  all  the  long  train  of  its  consequences  may  be  traced 
back.  Some  historical  inquirers,  like  myself,  can  hardly  look  at 
such  a  place  without  some  sentimental  musing,  poor  and  trivial 
as  the  thing  seems.  But  such  small  towns  are  very  feeble. 
Numbers  in  the  earliest  wars,  as  in  the  latest,  are  a  main  source 
of  victory.  And  in  early  times  one  kind  of  state  is  very  common 
and  is  exceedingly  numerous.  In  every  quarter  of  the  globe  we 
find  great  populations  compacted  by  traditional  custom  and  con- 
secrated sentiment,  which  are  ruled  by  some  soldier,  —  generally 
some  soldier  of  a  foreign  tribe,  who  has  conquered  them,  and,  as 
it  has  been  said,  "  vaulted  on  the  back  "  of  them,  or  whose  ances- 
tors have  done  so.  These  great  populations,  ruled  by  a  single 
will,  have,  doubtless,  trodden  down  and  destroyed  innumerable 
little  cities  that  were  just  beginning  their  freedom. 

In  this  way  the  Greek  cities  in  Asia  were  subjected  to  the 
Persian  power,  and  so  ought  the  cities  in  Greece  proper  to  have 
been  subjected  also.  Every  schoolboy  must  have  felt  that  nothing 
but  amazing  folly  and  unmatched  mismanagement  saved  Greece 
from  conquest  both  in  the  time  of  Xerxes  and  in  that  of  Darius. 
The  fortunes  of  intellectual  civilization  were  then  at  the  mercy 
of  what  seems  an  insignificant  probability.  If  the  Persian  leaders 
had  only  shown  that  decent  skill  and  ordinary  military  prudence 
which  it  was  likely  they  would  show,  Grecian  freedom  would 
have  been  at  an  end.  Athens,  like  so  many  Ionian  cities  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ^Egean,  would  have  been  absorbed  into  a  great 


734  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

despotism ;  all  we  now  remember  her  for  we  should  not  remem- 
ber, for  it  would  never  have  occurred.  Her  citizens  might  have 
been  ingenious,  and  imitative,  and  clever;  they  could  not  certainly 
have  been  free  and  original.  Rome  was  preserved  from  subjec- 
tion to  a  great  empire  by  her  fortunate  distance  from  one.  The 
early  wars  of  Rome  are  with  cities  like  Rome,  —  about  equal  in 
size,  though  inferior  in  valor.  It  was  only  when  she  had  con- 
quered Italy  that  she  began  to  measure  herself  against  Asiatic 
despotisms.  She  became  great  enough  to  beat  them  before  she 
advanced  far  enough  to  contend  with  them.  But  such  great 
good  fortune  was  and  must  be  rare.  Unnumbered  little  cities 
which  might  have  rivaled  Rome  or  Athens  doubtless  perished 
without  a  sign  long  before  history  was  imagined.  The  small  size 
and  slight  strength  of  early  free  states  made  them  always  liable 
to  easy  destruction. 

And  their  internal  frailty  is  even  greater.  As  soon  as  discus- 
sion begins  the  savage  propensities  of  men  break  forth  ;  even  in 
modern  communities,  where  those  propensities,  too,  have  been 
weakened  by  ages  of  culture,  and  repressed  by  ages  of  obedience, 
as  soon  as  a  vital  topic  for  discussion  is  well  started  the  keenest 
and  most  violent  passions  break  forth.  Easily  destroyed  as  are 
early  free  states  by  forces  from  without,  they  are  even  more 
liable  to  destruction  by  forces  from  within. 

On  this  account  such  states  are  very  rare  in  history.  Upon 
the  first  view  of  the  facts  a  speculation  might  even  be  set  up 
that  they  were  peculiar  to  a  particular  race.  By  far  the  most 
important  free  institutions,  and  the  only  ones  which  have  left 
living  representatives  in  the  world,  are  the  offspring  either  of  the 
first  constitutions  of  the  classical  nations  or  of  the  first  consti- 
tutions of  the  Germanic  nations.  All  living  freedom  runs  back 
to  them,  and  those  truths  which  at  first  sight  would  seem  the 
whole  of  historical  freedom  can  be  traced  to  them.  And  both 
the  Germanic  and  the  classical  nations  belong  to  what  ethnolo- 
gists call  the  Aryan  race.  Plausibly  it  might  be  argued  that  the 
power  of  forming  free  states  was  superior  in  and  peculiar  to  that 
family  of  mankind.  But  unfortunately  for  this  easy  theory  the 
facts  are  inconsistent  with  it.  In  the  first  place,  all  the  so-called 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION 


735 


Aryan  race  certainly  is  not  free.  The  Eastern  Aryans  —  those, 
for  example,  who  speak  languages  derived  from  the  Sanskrit  — 
are  amongst  the  most  slavish  divisions  of  mankind.  To  offer 
the  Bengalese  a  free  constitution,  and  to  expect  them  to  work 
one,  would  be  the  maximum  of  human  folly.  There  then  must 
be  something  else  besides  Aryan  descent  which  is  necessary  to 
fit  men  for  discussion  and  train  them  for  liberty;  and,  what  is 
worse  for  the  argument  we  are  opposing,  some  non-Aryan  races 
have  been  capable  of  freedom.  Carthage,  for  example,  was  a 
Semitic  republic.  We  do  not  know  all  the  details  of  its  constitu- 
tion, but  we  know  enough  for  our  present  purpose.  We  know 
that  it  was  a  government  in  which  many  proposers  took  part, 
and  under  which  discussion  was  constant,  active,  and  conclusive. 
No  doubt  Tyre,  the  parent  city  of  Carthage,  the  other  colonies 
of  Tyre  besides  Carthage,  and  the  colonies  of  Carthage  were  all 
as  free  as  Carthage.  We  have  -thus  a  whole  group  of  ancient 
republics  of  non-Aryan  race,  and  one  which,  being  more  ancient 
than  the  classical  republics,  could  not  have  borrowed  from  or 
imitated  them.  So  that  the  theory  which  would  make  govern- 
ment by  discussion  the  exclusive  patrimony  of  a  single  race  of 
mankind  is  on  the  face  of  it  untenable. 

I  am  not  prepared  with  any  simple  counter  theory.  I  cannot 
profess  to  explain  completely  why  a  very  small  minimum  of 
mankind  were,  as  long  as  we  know  of  them,  possessed  of  a  polity 
which  as  time  went  on  suggested  discussions  of  principle,  and 
why  the  great  majority  of  mankind  had  nothing  like  it.  This  is 
almost  as  hopeless  as  asking  why  Milton  was  a  genius  and  why 
Bacon  was  a  philosopher.  Indeed  it  is  the  same,  because  the 
causes  which  give  birth  to  the  startling  varieties  of  individual 
character,  and  those  which  give  birth  to  similar  varieties  of 
national  character,  are,  in  fact,  the  same.  I  have,  indeed,  en- 
deavored to  show  that  a  marked  type  of  individual  character 
once  originating  in  a  nation,  and  once  strongly  preferred  by  it, 
is  likely  to  be  fixed  on  it  and  to  be  permanent  in  it,  from  causes 
which  were  stated.  Granted  the  beginning  of  the  type,  we  may, 
I  think,  explain  its  development  and  aggravation  ;  but  we  cannot 
in  the  least  explain  why  the  incipient  type  of  curious  characters 


736  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

broke  out,  if  I  may  so  say,  in  one  place  rather  than  in  another. 
Climate  and  "  physical "  surroundings,  in  the  largest  sense,  have 
unquestionably  much  influence  ;  they  are  one  factor  in  the  cause, 
but  they  are  not  the  only  factor ;  for  we  find  most  dissimilar 
races  of  men  living  in  the  same  climate  and  affected  by  the  same 
surroundings,  and  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  those 
unlike  races  have  so  lived  as  neighbors  for  ages.  The  cause  of 
types  must  be  something  outside  the  tribe  acting  on  something 
within,  —  something  inherited  by  the  tribe.  But  what  that  some- 
thing is  I  do  not  know  that  any  one  can  in  the  least  explain. 

The  following  conditions  may,  I  think,  be  historically  traced 
to  the  nation  capable  of  a  polity,  which  suggests  principles  for 
discussion,  and  so  leads  to  progress.  First,  the  nation  must 
possess  the  patria  potestas  in  some  form  so  marked  as  to  give 
family  life  distinctness  and  precision,  and  to  make  a  home 
education  and  a  home  discipline  probable  and  possible.  While 
descent  is  traced  only  through  the  mother,  and  while  the  family 
is  therefore  a  vague  entity,  no  progress  to  a  high  polity  is  possi- 
ble. Secondly,  that  polity  would  seem  to  have  been  created  very 
gradually ;  by  the  aggregation  of  families  into  clans  or  gentes, 
and  of  clans  into  nations,  and  then  again  by  the  widening  of 
nations,  so  as  to  include  circumjacent  outsiders,  as  well  as  the 
first  compact  and  sacred  group,  the  number  of  parties  to  a 
discussion  was  at  first  augmented  very  slowly.  Thirdly,  the 
number  of  "open"  subjects,  —  as  we  should  say  nowadays,— 
that  is,  of  subjects  on  which  public  opinion  was  optional,  and  on 
which  discussion  was  admitted,  was  at  first  very  small.  Custom 
ruled  everything  originally,  and  the  area  of  free  argument  was 
enlarged  but  very  slowly.  If  I  am  at  all  right,  that  area  could 
only  be  enlarged  thus  slowly,  for  custom  was  in  early  days  the 
cement  of  society,  and  if  you  suddenly  questioned  such  custom 
you  would  destroy  society.  But  though  the  existence  of  these 
conditions  may  be  traced  historically,  and  though  the  reason  of 
them  may  be  explained  philosophically,  they  do  not  completely 
solve  the  question  why  some  nations  have  the  polity  and  some 
not ;  on  the  contrary,  they  plainly  leave  a  large  "  residual  phe- 
nomenon" unexplained  and  unknown. 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  737 

In  this  manner  politics  or  discussion  broke  up  the  old  bonds 
of  custom  which  were  now  strangling  mankind,  though  they  had 
once  aided  and  helped  it.  But  this  is  only  one  of  the  many  gifts 
which  those  polities  have  conferred,  are  conferring,  and  will  con- 
fer on  mankind.  I  am  not  going  to  write  an  eulogium  on  liberty, 
but  I  wish  to  set  down  three  points  which  have  not  been  suffi- 
ciently noticed. 

Civilized  ages  inherit  the  human  nature  which  was  victorious 
in  barbarous  ages,  and  that  nature  is,  in  many  respects,  not 
at  all  suited  to  civilized  circumstances.  A  main  and  principal 
excellence  in  the  early  times  of  the  human  races  is  the  impulse 
to  action.  The  problems  before  men  are  then  plain  and  simple. 
The  man  who  works  hardest,  the  man  who  kills  the  most  deer, 
the  man  who  catches  the  most  fish  —  even  later  on,  the  man  who 
tends  the  largest  herds,  or  the  man  who  tills  the  largest  field  — 
is  the  man  who  succeeds ;  the  nation  which  is  quickest  to  kill 
its  enemies,  or  which  kills  most  of  its  enemies,  is  the  nation  which 
succeeds.  All  the  inducements  of  early  society  tend  to  foster 
immediate  action ;  all  its  penalties  fall  on  the  man  who  pauses ; 
the  traditional  wisdom  of  those  times  was  never  weary  of  incul- 
cating that  "  delays  are  dangerous,"  and  that  the  sluggish  man 

—  the  man  "who  roasteth  not  that  which  he  took  in  hunting" 

—  will  not  prosper  on  the  earth,  and  indeed  will  very  soon  perish 
out  of  it.    And  in  consequence  an  inability  to  stay  quiet,  an 
irritable  desire  to  act  directly,  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
failings  of  mankind. 

Pascal  said  that  most  of  the  evils  of  life  arose  from  "  man's 
being  unable  to  sit  still  in  a  room";  and  though  I  do  not  go  that 
length,  it  is  certain  that  we  should  have  been  a  far  wiser  race 
than  we  are  if  we  had  been  readier  to  sit  quiet,  —  we  should 
have  known  much  better  the  way  in  which  it  was  best  to  act 
when  we  came  to  act.  The  rise  of  physical  science,  the  first 
great  body  of  practical  truth  provable  to  all  men,  exemplifies 
this  in  the  plainest  way.  If  it  had  not  been  for  quiet  people, 
who  sat  still  and  studied  the  sections  of  the  cone,  if  other  quiet 
people  had  not  sat  still  and  studied  the  theory  of  infinitesimals, 
or  other  quiet  people  had  not  sat  still  and  worked  out  the 


738  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

doctrine  of  chances,  the  most  "  dreamy  moonshine,"  as  the  purely 
practical  mind  would  consider,  of  all  human  pursuits ;  if  "  idle 
stargazers  "  had  not  watched  long  and  carefully  the  motions  of 
the  heavenly  bodies, — our  modern  astronomy  would  have  been 
impossible,  and  without  our  astronomy  "  our  ships,  our  colonies, 
our  seamen,"  all  which  makes  modern  life  modern  life  could  not 
have  existed.  Ages  of  sedentary,  quiet,  thinking  people  were 
required  before  that  noisy  existence  began,  and  without  those  pale 
preliminary  students  it  never  could  have  been  brought  into  being. 
And  nine  tenths  of  modern  science  is  in  this  respect  the  same  :  it 
is  the  produce  of  men  whom  their  contemporaries  thought  dream- 
ers, —  who  were  laughed  at  for  caring  for  what  did  not  concern 
them,  —  who,  as  the  proverb  went,  "walked  into  a  well  from 
looking  at  the  stars,"  -  —  who  were  believed  to  be  useless,  if  any 
one  could  be  such.  And  the  conclusion  is  plain  that  if  there 
had  been. more  such  people,  if  the  world  had  not  laughed  at 
those  there  were,  if  rather  it  had  encouraged  them,  there  would 
have  been  a  great  accumulation  of  proved  science  ages  before 
there  was.  It  was  the  irritable  activity,  the  "wish  to  be  doing 
something,"  that  prevented  it.  Most  men  inherited  a  nature  too 
eager  and  too  restless  to  be  quiet  and  find  out  things ;  and  even 
worse,  —  with  their  idle  clamor  they  "disturbed  the  brooding 
hen,"  they  would  not  let  those  be  quiet  who  wished  to  be  so,  and 
out  of  whose  calm  thought  much  good  might  have  come  forth. 

If  we  consider  how  much  science  has  done  and  how  much  it 
is  doing  for  mankind,  and  if  the  overactivity  of  men  is  proved 
to  be  the  cause  why  science  came  so  late  into  the  world,  and  is 
so  small  and  scanty  still,  that  will  convince  most  people  that 
our  overactivity  is  a  very  great  evil.  But  this  is  only  part,  and 
perhaps  not  the  greatest  part  of  the  harm  that  overactivity 
does.  As  I  have  said,  it  is  inherited  from  times  when  life  was 
simple,  objects  were  plain,  and  quick  action  generally  led  to 
desirable  ends.  If  A  kills  B  before  B  kills  A,  then  A  survives, 
and  the  human  race  is  a  race  of  A's.  But  the  issues  of  life  are 
plain  no  longer.  To  act  rightly  in  modern  society  requires  a 
great  deal  of  previous  study,  a  great  deal  of  assimilated  in- 
formation, a  great  deal  of  sharpened  imagination ;  and  these 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION 


739 


prerequisites  of  sound  action  require  much  time,  and,  I  was  going 
to  say,  much  "  lying  in  the  sun,"  a  long  period  of  "  mere  passive- 
ness."  Even  the  art  of  killing  one  another,  which  at  first  par- 
ticularly trained  men  to  be  quick,  now  requires  them  to  be  slow. 
A  hasty  general  is  the  worst  of  generals  nowadays ;  the  best 
is  a  sort  of  Von  Moltke,  who  is  passive  if  any  man  ever  was 
passive;  who  is  "silent  in  seven  languages";  who  possesses, 
more  and  better  accumulated  information  as  to  the  best  way  of 
killing  people  than  any  one  who  ever  lived.  This  man  plays  a 
restrained  and  considerate  game  of  chess  with  his  enemy.  I 
wish  the  art  of  benefiting  men  had  kept  pace  with  the  art  of 
destroying  them  ;  for  though  war  has  become  slow,  philanthropy 
has  remained  hasty.  The  most  melancholy  of  human  reflec- 
tions, perhaps,  is  that,  on  the  whole,  it  is  a  question  whether  the 
benevolence  of  mankind  does  most  good  or  harm.  Great  good, 
no  doubt,  philanthropy  does,  but  then  it  also  does  great  evil. 
It  augments  so  much  vice,  it  multiplies  so  much  suffering,  it 
brings  to  life  such  great  populations  to  suffer  and  to  be  vicious, 
that  it  is  open  to  argument  whether  it  be  or  be  not  an  evil  to  the 
world,  and  this  is  entirely  because  excellent  people  fancy  that 
they  can  do  much  by  rapid  action,  —  that  they  will  most  benefit 
the  world  when  they  most  relieve  their  own  feelings ;  that  as 
soon  as  an  evil  is  seen  "something"  ought  to  be  done  to  stay 
and  prevent  it.  One  may  incline  to  hope  that  the  balance  of 
good  over  evil  is  in  favor  of  benevolence;  one  can  hardly  bear 
to  think  that  it  is  not  so ;  but  anyhow  it  is  certain  that  there  is 
a  most  heavy  debit  of  evil,  and  that  this  burden  might  almost 
all  have  been  spared  us  if  philanthropists  as  well  as  others  had 
not  inherited  from  their  barbarous  forefathers  a  wild  passion 
for  instant  action. 

Even  in  commerce,  which  is  now  the  main  occupation  of  man- 
kind, and  one  in  which  there  is  a  ready  test  of  success  and  fail- 
ure wanting  in  many  higher  pursuits,  the  same  disposition  to 
excessive  action  is  very  apparent  to  careful  observers.  Part  of 
every  mania  is  caused  by  the  impossibility  to  get  people  to  con- 
fine themselves  to  the  amount  of  business  for  which  their  capi- 
tal is  sufficient,  and  in  which  they  can  engage  safely.  In  some 


740  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

degree,  of  course,  this  is  caused  by  the  wish  to  get  rich,  but  in 
a  considerable  degree,  too,  by  the  mere  love  of  activity.  There 
is  a  greater  propensity  to  action  in  such  men  than  they  have 
the  means  of  gratifying.  Operations  with  their  own  capital  will 
only  occupy  four  hours  of  the  day,  and  they  wish  to  be  active 
and  to  be  industrious  for  eight  hours,  and  so  they  are  ruined. 
If  they  could  only  have  sat  idle  the  other  four  hours,  they  would 
have  been  rich  men.  The  amusements  of  mankind,  at  least 
of  the  English  part  of  mankind,  teach  the  same  lesson.  Our 
shooting,  our  hunting,  our  traveling,  our  climbing,  have  become 
laborious  pursuits.  It  is  a  common  saying  abroad  that  "  an  Eng- 
lishman's notion  of  a  holiday  is  a  fatiguing  journey ";  and  this  is 
only  another  way  of  saying  that  the  immense  energy  and  activ- 
ity which  have  given  us  our  place  in  the  world  have  in  many 
cases  descended  to  those  who  do  not  find  in  modern  life  any 
mode  of  using  that  activity  and  of  venting  that  energy. 

Even  the  abstract  speculations  of  mankind  bear  conspicuous 
traces  of  the  same  excessive  impulse.  Every  sort  of  philosophy 
has  been  systematized,  and  yet  as  these  philosophies  utterly  con- 
tradict one  another,  most  of  them  cannot  be  true.  Unproved 
abstract  principles  without  number  have  been  eagerly  caught 
up  by  sanguine  men,  and  then  carefully  spun  out  into  books 
and  theories,  which  were  to  explain  the  whole  world.  But  the 
world  goes  clear  against  these  abstractions,  and  it  must  do  so,  as 
they  require  it  to  go  in  antagonistic  directions.  The  mass  of  a 
system  attracts  the  young  and  impresses  the  unwary ;  but  culti- 
vated people  are  very  dubious  about  it.  They  are  ready  to  receive 
hints  and  suggestions,  and  the  smallest  real  truth  is  ever  wel- 
come. But  a  large  book  of  deductive  philosophy  is  much  to  be 
suspected.  No  doubt  the  deductions  may  be  right ;  in  most 
writers  they  are  so ;  but  where  did  the  premises  come  from  ? 
Who  is  sure  that  they  are  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,  of  the  matter  in  hand  ?  Who  is  not  almost  sure  before- 
hand that  they  will  contain  a  strange  mixture  of  truth  and  error, 
and  therefore  that  it  will  not  be  worth  while  to  spend  life  in 
reasoning  over  their  consequences  ?  In  a  word,  the  superfluous 
energy  of  mankind  has  flowed  over  into  philosophy,  and  has 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  741 

worked  into  big  systems  what  should  have  been  left  as  little 
suggestions. 

And  if  the  old  systems  of  thought  are  not  true  as  systems, 
neither  is  the  new  revolt  from  them  to  be  trusted  in  its  whole 
vigor.  There  is  the  same  original  vice  in  that  also.  There  is 
an  excessive  energy  in  revolutions  if  there  is  such  energy  any- 
where. The  passion  for  action  is  quite  as  ready  to  pull  down 
as  to  build  up ;  probably  it  is  more  ready,  for  the  task  is  easier. 

Old  things  need  not  be  therefore  true, 
O  brother  men,  nor  yet  the  new; 
Ah,  still  awhile  the  old  thought  retain, 
And  yet  consider  it  again. 

But  this  is  exactly  what  the  human  mind  will  not  do.  It  will 
not  "  consider  it  again." 

But  it  will  be  said,  What  has  government  by  discussion  to 
do  with  these  things  ?  Will  it  prevent  them,  or  even  mitigate 
them  ?  It  can  and  does  do  both  in  the  very  plainest  way.  If 
you  want  to  stop  instant  and  immediate  action,  always  make  it 
a  condition  that  the  action  shall  not  begin  till  a  considerable 
number  of  persons  have  talked  over  it,  and  have  agreed  on  it. 
If  those  persons  be  people  of  different  temperaments,  different 
ideas,  and  different  educations,  you  have  an  almost  infallible 
security  that  nothing,  or  almost  nothing,  will  be  done  with 
excessive  rapidity.  Each  kind  of  persons  will  have  their  spokes- 
man ;  each  spokesman  will  have  his  characteristic  objection,  and 
each  his  characteristic  counter  proposition,  and  so  in  the  end 
nothing  will  probably  be  done,  or  at  least  only  the  minimum 
which  is  plainly  urgent.  In  many  cases  this  delay  may  be  dan- 
gerous ;  in  many  cases  quick  action  will  be  preferable.  A  cam- 
paign, as  Macaulay  well  says,  cannot  be  directed  by  a  "  debating 
society";  and  many  other  kinds  of  action  also  require  a  single 
and  absolute  general.  But  for  the  purpose  now  in  hand  —  that 
of  preventing  hasty  action,  and  insuring  elaborate  consideration 
—  there  is  no  device  like  a  polity  of  discussion. 

The  enemies  of  this  object  —  the  people  who  want  to  act 
quickly  —  see  this  very  distinctly.  They  are  forever  explaining 


742  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

that  the  present  is  "  an  age  of  committees,"  that  the  committees 
do  nothing,  that  all  evaporates  in  talk.  Their  great  enemy  is 
parliamentary  government ;  they  call  it,  after  Mr.  Carlyle,  the 
"national  palaver";  they  add  up  the  hours  that  are  consumed 
in  it,  and  the  speeches  which  are  made  in  it,  and  they  sigh 
for  a  time  when  England  might  again  be  ruled,  as  it  once  was, 
by  a  Cromwell,  —  that  is,  when  an  eager,  absolute  man  might 
do  exactly  what  other  eager  men  wished,  and  do  it  immediately. 
All  these  invectives  are  perpetual  and  many-sided ;  they  come 
from  philosophers,  each  of  whom  wants  some  new  scheme  tried  ; 
from  philanthropists,  who  want  some  evil  abated ;  from  revolu- 
tionists, who  want  some  old  institution  destroyed ;  from  new 
eraists,  who  want  their  new  era  started  forthwith.  And  they 
all  are  distinct  admissions  that  a  polity  of  discussion  is  the  great- 
est hindrance  to  the  inherited  mistake  of  human  nature,  to  the 
desire  to  act  promptly,  which  in  a  simple  age  is  so  excellent, 
but  which  in  a  later  and  complex  time  leads  to  so  much  evil. 

The  same  accusation  against  our  age  sometimes  takes  a  more 
general  form.  It  is  alleged  that  our  energies  are  diminishing ; 
that  ordinary  and  average  men  have  not  the  quick  determination 
nowadays  which  they  used  to  have  when  the  world  was  younger ; 
that  not  only  do  not  committees  and  parliaments  act  with  rapid 
decisiveness  but  that  no  one  now  so  acts.  And  I  hope  that  in 
fact  this  is  true,  for,  according  to  me,  it  proves  that  the  heredi- 
tary barbaric  impulse  is  decaying  and  dying  out.  So  far  from 
thinking  the  quality  attributed  to  us  a  defect,  I  wish  that  those 
who  complain  of  it  were  far  more  right  than  I  much  fear  they 
are.  Still,  certainly,  eager  and  violent  action  is  somewhat  dimin- 
ished, though  only  by  a  small  fraction  of  what  it  ought  to  be.  And 
I  believe  that  this  is  in  great  part  due,  in  England  at  least,  to 
our  government  by  discussion,  which  has  fostered  a  general 
intellectual  tone,  a  diffused  disposition  to  weigh  evidence,  a 
conviction  that  much  may  be  said  on  every  side  of  everything 
which  the  elder  and  more  fanatic  ages  of  the  world  wanted. 
This  is  the  real  reason  why  our  energies  seem  so  much  less 
than  those  of  our  fathers.  When  we  have  a  definite  end  in 
view,  which  we  know  we  want,  and  which  we  think  we  know 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION 


743 


how  to  obtain,  we  can  act  well  enough.  The  campaigns  of 
our  soldiers  are  as  energetic  as  any  campaigns  ever  were ;  the 
speculations  of  our  merchants  have  greater  promptitude,  greater 
audacity,  greater  vigor  than  any  such  speculations  ever  had 
before.  In  old  times  a  few  ideas  got  possession  of  men  and 
communities,  but  this  is  happily  now  possible  no  longer.  We 
see  how  incomplete  these  old  ideas  were ;  how  almost  by  chance 
one  seized  on  one  nation,  and  another  on  another ;  how  often 
one  set  of  men  have  persecuted  another  set  for  opinions  on 
subjects  of  which  neither,  we  now  perceive,  knew  anything.  It 
might  be  well  if  a  greater  number  of  effectual  demonstrations 
existed  among  mankind  ;  but  while  no  such  demonstrations  exist, 
and  while  the  evidence  which  completely  convinces  one  man 
seems  to  another  trifling  and  insufficient,  let  us  recognize  the 
plain  position  of  inevitable  doubt.  Let  us  not  be  bigots  with  a 
doubt,  and  persecutors  without  a  creed.  We  are  beginning  to 
see  this,  and  we  are  railed  at  for  so  beginning.  But  it  is  a 
great  benefit,  and  it  is  to  the  incessant  prevalence  of  detective 
discussion  that  our  doubts  are  due ;  and  much  of  that  dis- 
cussion is  due  to  the  long  existence  of  a  government  requiring 
constant  debates,  written  and  oral. 

This  is  one  of  the  unrecognized  benefits  of  free  government, 
one  of  the  modes  in  which  it  counteracts  the  excessive  inherited 
impulses  of  humanity.  There  is  another  also  for  which  it  does 
the  same,  but  which  I  can  only  touch  delicately,  and  which  at 
first  sight  will  seem  ridiculous.  The  most  successful  races, 
other  things  being  equal,  are  those  which  multiply  the  fastest. 
In  the  conflicts  of  mankind  numbers  have  ever  been  a  great 
power.  The  most  numerous  group  has  always  had  an  advan- 
tage over  the  less  numerous,  and  the  fastest  breeding  group 
has  always  tended  to  be  the  most  numerous.  In  consequence, 
human  nature  has  descended  into  a  comparatively  uncontentious 
civilization,  with  a  desire  far  in  excess  of  what  is  needed ;  with 
a  "felt  want,"  as  political  economists  would  say,  altogether 
greater  than  the  "  real  want."  A  walk  in  London  is  all  that  is 
necessary  to  establish  this.  "  The  great  sin  of  great  cities  "  is 
one  vast  evil  consequent  upon  it.  And  who  is  to  reckon  up  how 


744  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

much  these  words  mean  ?  How  many  spoiled  lives,  how  many 
broken  hearts,  how  many  wasted  bodies,  how  many  ruined  minds, 
how  much  misery  pretending  to  be  gay,  how  much  gayety  feel- 
ing itself  to  be  miserable,  how  much  after  mental  pain,  how 
much  eating  and  transmitted  disease  !  And  in  the  moral  part 
of  the  world,  how  many  minds  are  racked  by  incessant  anxiety, 
how  many  thoughtful  imaginations  which  might  have  left  some- 
thing to  mankind  are  debased  to  mean  cares,  how  much  every 
successive  generation  sacrifices  to  the  next,  how  little  does  any 
of  them  make  of  itself  in  comparison  with  what  might  be  !  And 
how  many  Irelands  have  there  been  in  the  world  where  men 
would  have  been  contented  and  happy  if  they  had  only  been 
fewer;  how  many  more  Irelands  would  there  have  been  if  the 
intrusive  numbers  had  not  been  kept  down  by  infanticide  and 
vice  and  misery !  How  painful  is  the  conclusion  that  it  is  dubi- 
ous whether  all  the  machines  and  inventions  of  mankind  "  have 
yet  lightened  the  day's  labor  of  a  human  being"  !  They  have 
enabled  more  people  to  exist,  but  these  people  work  just  as  hard 
and  are  just  as  mean  and  miserable  as  the  elder  and  the  fewer. 

But  it  will  be  said  of  this  passion  just  as  it  was  said  of  the 
passion  of  activity.  Granted  that  it  is  in  excess,  how  can  you 
say,  how  on  earth  can  any  one  say,  that  government  by  discus- 
sion can  in  any  way  cure  or  diminish  it  ?  Cure  this  evil  —  that 
government  certainly  will  not ;  but  tend  to  diminish  it  —  I  think 
it  does  and  may.  To  show  that  I  am  not  making  premises  to 
support  a  conclusion  so  abnormal,  I  will  quote  a  passage  from 
Mr.  Spencer,  the  philosopher  who  has  done  most  to  illustrate 
this  subject. 

"  That  future  progress  of  civilization  which  the  never-ceasing 
pressure  of  population  must  produce  will  be  accompanied  by  an 
enhanced  cost  of  Individuation,  both  in  structure  and  function ; 
and  more  especially  in  nervous  structure  and  function.  The 
peaceful  struggle  for  existence  in  societies  ever  growing  more 
crowded  and  more  complicated  must  have  for  its  concomitant 
an  increase  of  the  great  nervous  centers  in  mass,  in  complexity, 
in  activity.  The  larger  body  of  emotion  needed  as  a  fountain 
of  energy  for  men  who  have  to  hold  their  places  and  rear  their 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION 


745 


families  under  the  intensifying  competition  of  social  life  is,  other 
things  equal,  .the  correlative  of  larger  brain.  Those  higher 
feelings  presupposed  by  the  better  self-regulation  which,  in  a 
better  society,  can  alone  enable  the  individual  to  leave  a  per- 
sistent posterity  are,  other  things  equal,  the  correlatives  of  a 
more  complex  brain ;  as  are  also  those  more  numerous,  more 
varied,  more  general,  and  more  abstract  ideas,  which  must  also 
become  increasingly  requisite  for  successful  life  as  society  ad- 
vances. And  the  genesis  of  this  larger  quantity  of  feeling  and 
thought  in  a  brain  thus  augmented  in  size  and  developed  in  struc- 
ture is,  other  things  equal,  the  correlative  of  a  greater  wear  of 
nervous  tissue  and  greater  consumption  of  materials  to  repair  it. 
So  that  both  in  original  cost  of  construction  and  in  subsequent 
cost  of  working,  the  nervous  system  must  become  a  heavier  tax 
on  the  organism.  Already  the  brain  of  the  civilized  man  is  larger 
by  nearly  thirty  per  cent  than  the  brain  of  the  savage.  Already, 
too,  it  presents  an  increased  heterogeneity,  especially  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  its  convolutions.  And  further  changes,  like  these 
which  have  taken  place  under  the  discipline  of  civilized  life,  we 
infer  will  continue  to  take  place.  .  .  .  But  everywhere  and  always 
evolution  is  antagonistic  to  procreative  dissolution.  Whether 
it  be  in  greater  growth  of  the  organs  which  subserve  self- 
maintenance,  whether  it  be  in  their  added  complexity  of  struc- 
ture, or  whether  it  be  in  their  higher  activity,  the  abstraction 
of  the  required  materials  implies  a  diminished  reserve  of  mate- 
rials for  race  maintenance.  And  we  have  seen  reason  to  believe 
that  this  antagonism  between  Individuation  and  Genesis  becomes 
unusually  marked  where  the  nervous  system  is  concerned,  be- 
cause of  the  costliness  of  nervous  structure  and  function.  In 
sec.  346 l  was  pointed  out  the  apparent  connection  between  high 
cerebral  development  and  prolonged  delay  of  sexual  maturity; 
and  in  sees.  366,  367,1  the  evidence  went  to  show  that  where 
exceptional  fertility  exists  there  is  sluggishness  of  mind,  and  that 
where  there  has  been  during  education  excessive  expenditure  in 
mental  action,  there  frequently  follows  a  complete  or  partial 
infertility.  Hence  the  particular  kind  of  further  evolution  which 
1  These  references  are  to  Bagehot's  Physics  and  Politics. 


746  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

man  is  hereafter  to  undergo  is  one  which,  more  than  any  other, 
may  be  expected  to  cause  a  decline  in  his  power  of  reproduction." 

This  means  that  men  who  have  to  live  an  intellectual  life,  or 
who  can  be  induced  to  lead  one,  will  be  likely  not  to  have  so 
many  children  as  they  would  otherwise  have  had.  In  particular 
cases  this  may  not  be  true ;  such  men  may  even  have  many 
children,  —  they  may  be  men  of  unusual  power  and  vigor  in  all 
respects.  But  they  will  not  have  their  maximum  of  posterity, — 
will  not  have  so  many  as  they  would  have  had  if  they  had  been 
careless  or  thoughtless  men ;  and  so,  upon  an  average,  the  issue 
of  such  intellectualized  men  will  be  less  numerous  than  those  of 
the  unintellectual. 

Now,  supposing  this  philosophical  doctrine  to  be  true,  —  and 
the  best  philosophers,  I  think,  believe  it,  —  its  application  to 
the  case  in  hand  is  plain.  Nothing  promotes  intellect  like  intel- 
lectual discussion,  and  nothing  promotes  intellectual  discussion 
so  much  as  government  by  discussion.  The  perpetual  atmos- 
phere of  intellectual  inquiry  acts  powerfully,  as  every  one  may 
see  by  looking  about  him  in  London,  upon  the  constitution  both 
of  men  and  women.  There  is  only  a  certain  quantum  of  power 
in  each  of  our  race ;  if  it  goes  in  one  way  it  is  spent,  and 
cannot  go  in  another.  The  intellectual  atmosphere  abstracts 
strength  to  intellectual  matters  ;  it  tends  to  divert  that  strength 
which  the  circumstances  of  early  society  directed  to  the  multi- 
plication of  numbers  ;  and  as  a  polity  of  discussion  tends,  above 
all  things,  to  produce  an  intellectual  atmosphere,  the  two  things 
which  seemed  so  far  off  have  been  shown  to  be  near,  and  free 
government  has,  in  a  second  case,  been  shown  to  tend  to  cure 
an  inherited  excess  of  human  nature. 

Lastly,  a  polity  of  discussion  not  only  tends  to  diminish  our 
inherited  defects,  but  also,  in  one  case  at  least,  to  augment  a 
heritable  excellence.  It  tends  to  strengthen  and  increase  a 
subtle  quality  or  combination  of  qualities  singularly  useful  in 
practical  life,  —  a  quality  which  it  is  not  easy  to  describe  exactly, 
and  the  issues  of  which  it  would  require  not  a  remnant  of  an 
essay  but  a  whole  essay  to  elucidate  completely.  This  quality 
I  call  animated  moderation. 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  747 

If  any  one  were  asked  to  describe  what  it  is  which  distinguishes 
the  writings  of  a  man  of  genius  who  is  also  a  great  man  of  the 
world  from  all  other  writings,  I  think  he  would  use  these  same 
words,  "  animated  moderation."  He  would  say  that  such  writings 
are  never  slow,  are  never  excessive,  are  never  exaggerated ; 
that  they  are  always  instinct  with  judgment,  and  yet  that  judg- 
ment is  never  a  dull  judgment ;  that  they  have  as  much  spirit 
in  them  as  would  go  to  make  a  wild  writer,  and  yet  that  every 
line  of  them  is  the  product  of  a  sane  and  sound  writer.  The 
best  and  almost  perfect  instance  of  this  in  English  is  Scott. 
Homer  was  perfect  in  it,  as  far  as  we  can  judge ;  Shakespeare 
is  often  perfect  in  it  for  long  together,  though  then,  from  the 
defects  of  a  bad  education  and  a  vicious  age,  all  at  once  he  loses 
himself  in  excesses.  Still,  Homer,  and  Shakespeare  at  his  best, 
and  Scott,  though  in  other  respects  so  unequal  to  them,  have 
this  remarkable  quality  in  common,  —  this  union  of  life  with 
measure,  of  spirit  with  reasonableness. 

In  action  it  is  equally  this  quality  in  which  the  English  —  at 
least,  so  I  claim  it  for  them  —  excel  all  other  nations.  There  is 
an  infinite  deal  to  be  laid  against  us,  and  as  we  are  unpopular 
with  most  others,  and  as  we  are  always  grumbling  at  ourselves, 
there  is  no  want  of  people  to  say  it.  But,  after  all,  in  a  certain 
sense,  England  is  a  success  in  the  world ;  her  career  has  had 
many  faults,  but  still  it  has  been  a  fine  and  winning  career  upon 
the  whole.  And  this  on  account  of  the  exact  possession  of  this 
particular  quality.  What  is  the  making  of  a  successful  mer- 
chant ?  That  he  has  plenty  of  energy,  and  yet  that  he  does  not 
go  too  far.  And  if  you  ask  for  a  description  of  a  great  practical 
Englishman,  you  will  be  sure  to  have  this,  or  something  like 
it :  "  Oh,  he  has  plenty  of  go  in  him  ;  but  he  knows  when  to  pull 
up."  He  may  have  all  other  defects  in  him  ;  he  -may  be  coarse, 
he  may  be  illiterate,  he  may  be  stupid  to  talk  to  ;  still  this  great 
union  of  spur  and  bridle,  of  energy  and  moderation,  will  remain 
to  him.  Probably  he  will  hardly  be  able  to  explain  why  he  stops 
when  he  does  stop,  or  why  he  continued  to  move  as  long  as  he,  in 
fact,  moved  ;  but  still,  as  by  a  rough  instinct,  he  pulls  up  pretty 
much  where  he  should,  though  he  was  going  at  such  a  pace  before. 


748  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

There  is  no  better  example  of  this  quality  in  English  states- 
men than  Lord  Palmerston.  There  are,  of  course,  many  most 
serious  accusations  to  be  made  against  him.  The  sort  of  hom- 
age with  which  he  was  regarded  in  the  last  years  of  his  life  has 
passed  away ;  the  spell  is  broken,  and  the  magic  cannot  be  again 
revived.  We  may  think  that  his  information  was  meager,  that 
his  imagination  was  narrow,  that  his  aims  were  short-sighted 
and  faulty.  But  though  we  may  often  object  to  his  objects,  we 
rarely  find  much  to  criticise  in  his  means.  "  He  went,"  it  has 
been  said,  "with  a  great  swing"  ;  but  he  never  tumbled  over; 
he  always  managed  to  pull  up  "before  there  was  any  danger." 
He  was  an  odd  man  to  have  inherited  Hampden's  motto ;  still, 
in  fact,  there  was  a  great  trace  in  him  of  mediocria  finna,  —  as 
much,  probably,  as  there  could  be  in  any  one  of  such  great 
vivacity  and  buoyancy. 

It  is  plain  that  this  is  a  quality  which  as  much  as,  if  not  more 
than,  any  other  multiplies  good  results  in  practical  life.  It  en- 
ables men  to  see  what  is  good ;  it  gives  them  intellect  enough 
for  sufficient  perception  ;  but  it  does  not  make  men  all  intellect ; 
it  does  not  "  sickly  them  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought  ";  it 
enables  them  to  do  the  good  things  they  see  to  be  good,  as  well 
as  to  see  that  they  are  good.  And  it  is  plain  that  a  government 
by  popular  discussion  tends  to  produce  this  quality.  A  strongly 
idiosyncratic  mind,  violently  disposed  to  extremes  of  opinion,  is 
soon  weeded  out  of  political  life,  and  a  bodiless  thinker,  an 
ineffectual  scholar,  cannot  even  live  there  for  a  day.  A  vigorous 
moderateness  in  mind  and  body  is  the  rule  of  a  polity  which 
works  by  discussion ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  it  is  the  kind  of 
temper  most  suited  to  the  active  life  of  such  a  being  as  man  in 
such  a  world  as  the  present  one. 

These  three  great  benefits  of  free  government,  though  great, 
are  entirely  secondary  to  its  continued  usefulness  in  the  mode 
in  which  it  originally  was  useful.  The  first  great  benefit  was 
the  deliverance  of  mankind  from  the  superannuated  yoke  of  cus- 
tomary law,  by  the  gradual  development  of  an  inquisitive  origi- 
nality. And  it  continues  to  produce  that  effect  upon  persons 
apparently  far  remote  from  its  influence,  and  on  subjects  with 


THE  AGE  OF  DISCUSSION  749 

which  it  has  nothing  to  do.  Thus  Mr.  Mundella,  a  most  experi- 
enced and  capable  judge,  tells  us  that  the  English  artisan, 
though  so  much  less  sober,  less  instructed,  and  less  refined  than 
the  artisans  of  some  other  countries,  is  yet  more  inventive  than 
any  other  artisan.  The  master  will  get  more  good  suggestions 
from  him  than  from  any  other. 

Again,  upon  plausible  grounds  —  looking,  for  example,  to  the 
position  of  Locke  and  Newton  in  the  science  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, and  to  that  of  Darwin  in  our  own  —  it  may  be  argued  that 
there  is  some  quality  in  English  thought  which  makes  them 
strike  out  as  many,  if  not  more,  first-rate  and  original  sugges- 
tions than  nations  of  greater  scientific  culture  and  more  diffused 
scientific  interest.  In  both  cases  I  believe  the  reason  of  the 
English  originality  to  be  that  government  by  discussion  quickens 
and  enlivens  thought  all  through  society ;  that  it  makes  people 
think  no  harm  may  come  of  thinking  ;  that  in  England  this  force 
has  long  been  operating,  and  so  it  has  developed  more  of  all 
kinds  of  people  ready  to  use  their  mental  energy  in  their  own 
way,  and  not  ready  to  use  it  in  any  other  way,  than  a  despotic 
government.  And  so  rare  is  great  originality  among  mankind, 
and  so  great  are  its  fruits,  that  this  one  benefit  of  free  govern- 
ment probably  outweighs  what  are  in  many  cases  its  accessory 
evils.  Of  itself  it  justifies,  or  goes  far  to  justify,  our  saying 
with  Montesquieu,  "  Whatever  be  the  cost  of  this  glorious  lib- 
erty, we  must  be  content  to  pay  it  to  heaven." 


XXXIII 
THE  FORMS   OF  GOVERNMENT1 

And  since  these  points  are  determined,  we  proceed  next  to 
consider  whether  one  polity  only  should  be  established,  or  more 
than  one ;  and  if  more,  then  how  many,  and  of  what  sort,  and 
what  are  the  differences  between  them.  Now  a  polity  is  the 
ordering  and  regulating  of  the  state,  and  of  all  its  offices,  par- 
ticularly of  that  wherein  the  supreme  power  is  lodged ;  and 
this  power  is  always  possessed  by  the  administration,  but  the 
administration  itself  determines  the  particular  polity.  Thus,  for 
instance,  in  a  democracy  the  supreme  power  is  lodged  in  the 
whole  people ;  on  the  contrary,  in  an  oligarchy  it  is  in  the  hands 
of  a  few.  We  say,  then,  that  the  polity  in  these  states  is  differ- 
ent, and  we  shall  find  the  same  thing  holds  good  in  others.  Let 
us  first  determine  for  whose  sake  a  state  is  established,  and  point 
out  the  different  species  of  rule  which  relate  to  mankind  and  to 
social  life.  It  has  already  been  mentioned,  in  the  beginning  of 
our  treatise,  where  a  definition  was  made  as  to  the  management 
of  a  family,  and  the  power  of  a  master,  that  man  is  an  animal 
naturally  formed  for  society,  and  that  therefore,  even  when  he 
does  not  want  any  foreign  assistance,  he  will  equally  desire  to 
live  with  others ;  not  but  that  mutual  advantage  also  induces 
them  to  it,  as  far  as  the  share  of  it  enables  each  person  to  live 
agreeably.  This  is  indeed  the  great  object  not  only  to  all  in 
general  but  also  to  each  individual ;  and  they  join  in  society 
also  for  the  sake  of  being  able  to  live  (for  doubtless  in  this,  too, 
what  is  agreeable  has  a  share),  and  they  also  bind  together  civil 
society,  even  for  the  sake  of  preserving  life,  unless  they  are 
grievously  overwhelmed  with  its  miseries  ;  for  it  is  very  evident 

1  From  The  Politics  of  Aristotle,  Book  III,  chap,  vi;  Books  IV,  V.  Trans- 
lated by  Edward  Walford. 

750 


THE  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  751 

that  men  will  endure  many  calamities  for  the  sake  of  life,  as 
having  in  itself  something  naturally  sweet  and  desirable.  It  is 
easy  to  point  out  the  different  received  modes  of  government, 
and  we  often  lay  them  down  in  our  exoteric  discourses.  The 
power  of  the  master,  though  there  is  an  identity  of  interest 
between  him  who  is  by  nature  a  master  and  him  who  is  by 
nature  a  slave,  yet  nevertheless  tends  especially  to  the  benefit 
of  the  master,  but  accidentally  to  that  of  the  slave ;  for  if  the 
slave  is  destroyed,  the  power  of  the  master  is  at  an  end.  But  the 
authority  which  a  man  has  over  his  wife,  and  children,  and  his 
family,  which  we  call  domestic  government,  is  either  for  the  bene- 
fit of  those  who  are  under  subjection,  or  else  for  the  sake  of 
something  common  to  both  ;  but  its  essential  object  is  the  bene- 
fit of  the  governed,  as  we  see  in  other  arts  (in  physic,  for  instance, 
and  the  gymnastic  exercises),  but  accidentally  it  may  be  for  the 
sake  of  those  who  govern;  for  nothing  forbids  the  master  of 
the  exercises  from  sometimes  being  himself  one  of  those  who 
take  exercise,  as  the  steersman  is  always  one  of  the  sailors ;  but 
both  the  master  of  the  exercises  and  the  steersman  consider  the 
good  of  those  who  are  under  their  government.  But  when  either 
of  them  becomes  one  of  these,  it  is  by  accident  that  he  shares  in 
their  benefits ;  for  the  one  becomes  a  common  sailor,  and  the 
other  one  of  the  wrestlers,  though  he  is  master  of  the  exercises. 
Thus  in  all  political  governments,  which  are  established  upon 
the  principle  of  an  equality  of  the  citizens,  and  according  to 
similitude,  it  is  held  right  to  rule  by  turns.  Formerly,  as  was 
natural,  every  one  expected  that  each  of  his  fellow-citizens 
should  in  his  turn  serve  the  public,  and  thus  administer  to  his 
private  good,  as  he  himself  when  in  office  had  done  for  others. 
But  now  every  one  is  desirous  of  being  continually  in  power, 
that  he  may  enjoy  the  advantage  which  he  derives  from  public 
business  and  being  in  office,  as  if  offices  were  a  never-failing 
remedy  for  sickly  rulers  ;  for  if  this  were  so,  no  doubt  they 
would  be  eagerly  sought  after.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  all  those 
governments  which  have  the  common  good  in  view  are  rightly 
established  and  strictly  just ;  but  those  which  have  in  view  only 
the  good  of  the  rulers  are  all  founded  on  wrong  principles,  and 


752  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

are  widely  different  from  what  a  government  ought  to  be,  for  they 
are  tyrannical ;  whereas  a  state  is  a  community  of  freemen. 

Having  established  these  particulars,  the  next  point  is  to  con- 
sider how  many  different  kinds  of  governments  there  are;  and 
first  we  must  review  those  which  are  correct,  for  when  we  have 
determined  this,  their  deflections  will  be  evident  enough. 

It  is  evident  that  every  form  of  government  or  administration 
(for  the  words  are  of  the  same  import)  must  contain  the  supreme 
power  over  the  whole  state,  and  that  this  supreme  power  must 
necessarily  be  in  the  hands  of  one  person,  or  of  a  few,  or  of  the 
many;  and  that  when  the  one,  the  few,  or  the  many  direct  their 
policy  to  the  common  good,  such  states  are  well  governed ;  but 
when  the  interest  of  the  one,  the  few,  or  the  many  who  are  in 
office  is  alone  consulted,  a  perversion  takes  place ;  for  we  must 
either  affirm  that  those  who  share  in  the  community  are  not  citi- 
zens, or  else  let  these  share  in  the  advantages  of  government. 
Now  we  usually  call  a  state  which  is  governed  by  one  person  for 
the  common  good  a  kingdom  ;  one  that  is  governed  by  more 
than  one,  but  by  a  few  only,  an  aristocracy,  either  because  the 
government  is  in  the  hands  of  the  most  worthy  citizens  or  be- 
cause it  is  the  best  form  for  the  city  and  its  inhabitants.  But 
when  the  citizens  at  large  direct  their  policy  to  the  public  good, 
it  is  called  simply  a  polity,  —  a  name  which  is  common  to  all  other 
governments.  And  this  distinction  is  consonant  to  reason,  for 
it  will  be  easy  to  find  one  person,  or  a  very  few,  of  very  distin- 
guished abilities,  but  most  difficult  to  meet  with  the  majority  of 
a  people  eminent  for  every  virtue ;  but  if  there  is  one  common 
to  a  whole  nation,  it  is  valor ;  for  this  exists  among  numbers : 
for  which  reason,  in  this  state  the  military  have  most  power, 
and  those  who  possess  arms  will  have  their  share  in  the  govern- 
ment. Now  the  perversions  attending  each  of  these  governments 
are  these  :  a  kingdom  may  degenerate  into  a  tyranny,  an  aristoc- 
racy into  an  oligarchy,  and  a  state  into  a  democracy.  Now  a 
tyranny  is  a  monarchy  where  the  good  of  one  man  only  is  the 
object  of  government,  an  oligarchy  considers  only  the  rich,  and  a 
democracy  only  the  poor ;  but  neither  of  them  have  the  common 
good  of  all  in  view.  .  .  . 


THE  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  753 

Let  us  first  determine  what  they  lay  down  as  the  proper  limits 
of  an  oligarchy  and  a  democracy,  and  what  is  just  in  each  of 
these  forms  of  government.  For  all  men  have  some  natural 
inclination  to  justice,  but  they  proceed  therein  only  to  a  certain 
degree,  nor  can  they  universally  point  out  what  is  absolutely 
just.  For  instance,  what  is  equal  appears  just,  and  is  so,  but 
not  to  all,  only  among  those  who  are  equals;  and  what  is  un- 
equal appears  just,  and  is  so,  but  not  to  all,  only  among  those 
who  are  unequals.  This  relative  nature  of  justice  some  people 
neglect,  and  therefore  they  judge  ill ;  and  the  reason  of  this  is, 
that  they  judge  for  themselves,  and  almost  every  one  is  the 
worst  judge  in  his  own  case.  Since  then  justice  has  reference 
to  persons,  the  same  distinctions  must  be  made  with  respect  to 
persons  which  are  made  with  respect  to  things,  in  the  manner 
that  I  have  already  described  in  my  Ethics.  As  to  the  equality 
of  the  things,  they  are  agreed ;  but  their  dispute  is  concerning 
the  equality  of  the  persons,  and  chiefly  for  the  reason  above 
assigned,  because  they  judge  ill  in  their  own  cause ;  and  also 
because  each  party  thinks  that  if  they  admit  what  is  right  in 
some  particulars,  they  say  what  is  just  on  the  whole.  Thus,  for 
instance,  if  some  persons  are  unequal  in  riches,  they  suppose 
them  unequal  in  the  whole  ;  or,  on  the  contrary,  if  they  are  equal 
in  liberty,  they  suppose  them  equal  in  the  whole.  But  they  for- 
get that  which  is  the  essential  point ;  for  if  civil  society  was 
founded  for  the  sake  of  preserving  and  increasing  property, 
every  one's  right  in  the  state  would  be  in  proportion  to  his  for- 
tune ;  and  then  the  reasoning  of  those  who  insist  upon  an  oli- 
garchy would  be  valid ;  for  it  would  not  be  right  that  he  who 
contributed  one  mina  should  have  an  equal  share  in  the  hundred 
along  with  him  who  brought  in  all  the  rest,  either  of  the  original 
money  or  of  what  was  afterwards  acquired.  Nor  was  civil  society 
founded  merely  in  order  that  its  members  might  live,  but  that 
they  might  live  well  (for  otherwise  a  state  might  be  composed 
of  slaves,  or  of  the  animal  creation,  which  is  far  from  the  case, 
because  these  have  no  share  in  happiness,  nor  do  they  live  after 
their  own  choice) ;  nor  is  it  an  alliance  mutually  to  defend  each 
other  from  injuries,  or  for  a  commercial  intercourse ;  for  then  the 


754  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

Tyrrhenians  and  Carthaginians  and  all  other  nations  between 
whom  treaties  of  commerce  subsist  would  be  citizens  of  one  state. 
For  they  have  articles  to  regulate  their  imports,  and  engagements 
for  mutual  protection,  and  alliances  for  mutual  defense;  yet  still 
they  have  not  all  the  same  magistrates  established  among  them, 
but  they  are  different  among  different  people  ;  nor  does  the  one 
take  any  care  that  the  morals  of  the  other  should  be  as  they 
ought,  or  that  none  of  those  who  have  entered  into  the  common 
agreements  should  be  unjust,  or  in  any  degree  vicious,  but  only 
that  they  shall  not  injure  another  confederate.  But  whosoever 
endeavors  to  establish  wholesome  laws  in  a  state  attends  to -the 
virtues  and  the  vices  of  each  individual  who  composes  it ;  and 
hence  it  is  evident  that  the  first  care  of  a  man  who  would  found 
a  state  truly  deserving  that  name,  and  not  nominally  so,  must 
be  to  have  his  citizens  virtuous,  for  otherwise  it  is  merely  an 
alliance  for  self-defense,  differing  only  in  place  from  those  which 
are  made  between  different  people.  For  the  law  is  an  agreement, 
and  as  the  sophist  Lycophron  says,  a  pledge  between  the  citizens 
of  their  intending  to  do  justice  to  each  other,  though  not  suffi- 
cient to  make  all  the  citizens  just  and  good.  And  it  is  evident 
that  this  is  the  fact ;  for  could  any  one  bring  different  places 
together,  as,  for  instance,  Megara  and  Corinth,  within  the  same 
walls,  yet  they  would  not  be  one  state,  not  even  if  their  inhabit- 
ants intermarried  with  each  other,  though  this  intercommunity 
contributes  much  to  combine  people  into  one  state.  Besides,  could 
we  suppose  a  set  of  people  living  separate  from  each  other,  but 
within  such  a  distance  as  would  admit  of  an  intercourse,  and  that 
there  were  laws  subsisting  between  each  party  to  prevent  their 
injuring  one  another  in  their  mutual  dealings  (one  being  a  car- 
penter, another  a  husbandman,  another  a  shoemaker,  and  the 
like),  and  that  their  numbers  were  ten  thousand,  and  still  that 
they  had  nothing  in  common  but  a  tariff  for  trade,  or  an  alliance 
for  mutual  defense,  even  so  they  would  not  constitute  a  state. 
And  why  in  the  world  ?  Not  because  their  mutual  intercourse 
is  not  near  enough ;  for  even  if  persons  so  situated  should  come 
to  one  place,  and  every  one  should  live  in  his  own  house  as  in 
his  native  city,  and  there  should  be  alliances  subsisting  between 


THE  FORMS  OF   GOVERNMENT  755 

each  party,  mutually  to  assist  and  prevent  any  injury  being  done 
to  the  other,  still  they  would  not  be  admitted  to  be  a  city  by 
those  who  reason  correctly,  if  they  preserved  the  same  customs 
when  they  were  together  as  when  they  were  separate.  It  is  evi- 
dent, then,  that  a  state  is  not  a  mere  community  of  place,  nor 
established  for  the  sake  of  mutual  safety  or  traffic,  but  that 
these  things  are  the  necessary  consequences  of  a  state,  although 
they  may  all  exist  where  there  is  no  state ;  but  a  state  is  a  soci- 
ety of  people  joining  together  with  their  families,  and  their  chil- 
dren, to  live  well,  for  the  sake  of  a  perfect  and  independent  life ; 
and  for  this  purpose  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  live  in  one 
place,  and  intermarry  with  each  other.  Hence  in  all  cities  there 
are  family  meetings,  clubs,  sacrifices,  and  public  entertainments, 
to  promote  friendship ;  for  a  love  of  sociability  is  friendship  itself ; 
so  that  the  end  for  which  a  state  is  established  is  that  the  in- 
habitants of  it  may  live  happily;  and  these  things  are  conducive 
to  that  end,  for  it  is  a  community  of  families  and  villages,  formed 
for  the  sake  of  a  perfect  independent  life,  —  that  is,  as  we  have 
already  said,  for  the  sake  of  living  well  and  happily.  The  political 
state,  therefore,  is  founded  not  for  the  purpose  of  men's  merely 
living  together  but  for  their  living  as  men  ought ;  for  which 
reason  those  who  contribute  most  to  this  end  deserve  to  have 
greater  power  in  the  state  than  either  those  who  are  their  equals 
in  family  and  freedom  but  their  inferiors  in  civil  virtue,  or  those 
who  excel  them  in  wealth  but  are  below  them  in  worth.  It  is 
evident  from  what  has  been  said  that  in  all  disputes  upon  forms 
of  government  each  party  says  something  that  is  just. 

There  may  also  be  a  doubt  as  to  who  should  possess  the  supreme 
power  of  the  state.  Shall  it  be  the  majority,  or  the  wealthy,  or 
a  number  of  proper  persons,  or  one  better  than  the  rest,  or  a 
tyrant  ?  But  whichever  of  these  we  prefer,  some  difficulty  will 
arise.  For  what  ?  If  the  poor,  because  they  are  the  majority,  may 
divide  among  themselves  what  belongs  to  the  rich,  is  not  this 
unjust  ?  In  sooth,  by  heaven,  it  will  have  been  judged  just  enough 
by  the  multitude  when  they  gain  the  supreme  power.  What 
therefore  is  the  extremity  of  injustice,  if  this  is  not  ?  Again,  if 
the  many  seize  into  their  own  hands  everything  which  belongs 


756  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  the  few,  it  is  evident  that  the  state  will  be  at  an  end.  But 
virtue  never  tends  to  destroy  what  is  itself  virtuous,  nor  can 
what  is  right  be  the  ruin  of  the  state.  Therefore  such  a  law  can 
never  be  right ;  nor  can  the  acts  of  a  tyrant  ever  be  wrong,  for 
of  necessity  they  must  all  be  just ;  for,  from  his  unlimited  power, 
he  compels  every  one  to  obey  his  command,  as  the  multitude 
oppress  the  rich.  Is  it  right,  then,  that  the  rich  and  few  should 
have  the  supreme  power  ?  And  what  if  they  be  guilty  of  the  same 
rapine,  and  plunder  the  possessions  of  the  majority,  will  this  be 
just  ?  It  will  be  the  same  as  in  the  other  case  ;  but  it  is  evident 
that  all  things  of  this  sort  are  wrong  and  unjust.  Well,  then, 
suppose  that  those  of  the  better  sort  shall  have  the  supreme 
power,  must  not  then  all  the  other  citizens  live  unhonored,  with- 
out sharing  the  offices  of  the  state  ?  For  the  offices  of  a  state  we 
call  honors,  and  if  one  set  of  men  are  always  in  power,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  rest  must  be  without  honors.  Then  will  it  be  better 
that  the  supreme  power  be  in  the  hands  of  that  one  person  who 
is  fittest  for  it  ?  But  by  this  means  the  power  will  be  more  con- 
fined, for  a  greater  number  than  before  will  continue  unhonored. 
But  some  one  may  say  that,  in  short,  it  is  wrong  that  man  should 
have  the  supreme  power  rather  than  the  law,  as  his  soul  is  sub- 
ject to  so  many  passions.  But  if  this  law  appoints  an  aristocracy, 
or  a  democracy,  how  will  it  help  us  in  our  present  doubts  ?  For 
those  things  will  happen  which  we  have  already  mentioned. 

Of  other  particulars,  then,  let  us  treat  hereafter ;  but  as  to 
the  fact  that  the  supreme  power  ought  to  be  lodged  with  the 
many  rather  than  with  those  of  the  better  sort,  who  are  few, 
there  would  seem  to  be  some  doubt,  though  also  some  truth  as 
well.  Now,  though  each  individual  of  the  many  may  himself  be 
unfit  for  the  supreme  power,  yet  when  these  many  are  joined 
together,  it  is  possible  that  they  may  be  better  qualified  for  it 
than  the  others  ;  and  this  not  separately,  but  as  a  collective  body. 
So  the  public  suppers  exceed  those  which  are  given  at  one  per- 
son's private  expense  ;  for,  as  they  are  many,  each  person  brings 
in  his  share  of  virtue  and  wisdom  ;  and  thus,  coming  together, 
they  are  like  one  man  made  up  of  a  multitude,  with  many  feet, 


THE  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  757 

many  hands,  and  many  senses.  Thus  is  it  with  respect  to  the 
character  and  understanding.  And  for  this  reason  the  many  are 
the  best  judges  of  music  and  poetry,  for  some  understand  one  part, 
some  another,  and  all  collectively  the  whole.  And  in  this  particu- 
lar men  of  consequence  differ  from  each  of  the  many,  as  they  say 
those  who  are  beautiful  differ  from  those  who  are  not  so,  and  as 
fine  pictures  excel  any  natural  objects  by  collecting  into  one  the 
several  beautiful  parts  which  were  dispersed  among  different  orig- 
inals, although  the  separate  parts  of  individuals,  as  the  eye  or  any 
other  part,  may  be  handsomer  than  in  the  picture.  But  it  is  not 
clear  whether  it  is  possible  that  this  distinction  should  exist  be- 
tween every  people  and  general  assembly,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
some  few  men  of  consequence,  on  the  other ;  but,  by  heaven,  doubt- 
less it  is  clear  enough  that,  with  respect  to  a  few,  it  is  impossible, 
since  the  same  conclusion  might  be  applied  even  to  brutes ;  and 
indeed,  so  to  say,  wherein  do  some  men  differ  from  brutes  ?  But 
nothing  prevents  what  I  have  said  being  true  of  the  people  in 
some  states.  The  doubt,  then,  which  we  have  lately  proposed, 
with  that  which  is  its  consequence,  may  be  settled  in  this  man- 
ner ;  it  is  necessary  that  the  freemen  and  the  bulk  of  the  people 
should  have  absolute  power  in  some  things ;  but  these  are  such 
as  are  not  men  of  property,  nor  have  they  any  reputation  for 
virtue.  And  so  it  is  not  safe  to  trust  them  with  the  first  offices 
in  the  state,  both  on  account  of  their  injustice  and  their  igno- 
rance ;  from  the  one  of  which  they  are  likely  to  do  what  is  wrong, 
from  the  other  to  make  mistakes.  And  yet  it  is  dangerous  to 
allow  them  no  power  or  share  in  the  government ;  for  when  there 
are  many  poor  people  who  are  excluded  from  office,  the  state 
must  necessarily  have  very  many  enemies  in  it.  It  remains, 
then,  that  they  should  have  a  place  in  the  public  assemblies, 
and  in  determining  causes.  And  for  this  reason  Socrates  and 
some  other  legislators  give  them  the  power  of  electing  the  offi- 
cers of  the  state,  and  also  of  inquiring  into  their  conduct  after 
their  term  of  office,  but  do  not  allow  them  to  act  as  magistrates 
by  themselves.  For  the  multitude,  when  they  are  collected  to- 
gether, have  all  of  them  sufficient  understanding  for  these  pur- 
poses, and  by  mixing  among  those  of  higher  rank  are  serviceable 


758  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

to  the  state ;  as  some  things  which  alone  are  improper  for  food, 
when  mixed  with  others  make  the  whole  more  wholesome  than 
a  few  of  them  would  be ;  though  each  individual  is  unfit  to  form 
a  judgment  by  himself.  But  there  is  a  difficulty  attending  this 
form  of  government,  for  it  seems  that  the  same  person,  who 
himself  was  capable  of  curing  any  one  who  was  then  sick,  must 
be  the  best  judge  whom  to  employ  as  a  physician ;  but  such  a 
one  must  be  himself  a  physician.  And  the  same  holds  true  in 
every  other  practice  and  art ;  and  as  a  physician  ought  to  give 
an  account  of  his  practice  to  physicians,  so  ought  it  to  be  in 
other  arts.  But  physicians  are  of  three  sorts :  the  first  makes 
up  the  medicines,  the  second  prescribes,  the  third  understands 
the  science  but  never  practices  it.  Now  these  three  distinctions 
may  be  found  in  those  who  understand  all  other  arts ;  and  we 
have  no  less  opinion  of  their  judgment  who  are  only  instructed 
in  the  principles  of  the  art  than  of  those  who  practice  it.  And 
with  respect  to  elections  the  same  would  seem  to  hold  true,  for 
to  elect  a  proper  person  in  any  line  is  the  business  of  those  who 
are  skilled  in  it ;  as  in  geometry,  it  is  the  part  of  geometricians, 
and  of  steersmen  in  the  art  of  steering.  But  even  if  some  in- 
dividuals do  know  something  of  particular  arts  and  works,  they 
do  not  know  more  than  the  professors  of  them,  so  that,  even 
upon  this  principle,  neither  the  election  of  magistrates  nor  the 
censure  of  their  conduct  should  be  intrusted  to  the  many.  But 
possibly  much  that  has  been  here  said  may  not  be  right,  for, 
to  resume  the  argument  lately  used,  if  the  people  are  not  very 
brutal  indeed,  although  we  allow  that  each  individual  knows  less 
of  these  affairs  than  those  who  have  given  particular  attention 
to  them,  yet  when  they  come  together  they  will  know  them 
better,  or  at  least  not  worse ;  besides,  in  some  particular  arts  it 
is  not  the  workman  only  who  is  the  best  judge,  as  in  those  the 
works  of  which  are  understood  by  those  who  do  not  profess 
them.  Thus  he  who  builds  a  house  is  not  the  only  judge  of  it  (for 
the  master  of  the  family  who  inhabits  it  is  a  better  one)  ;  thus 
also  a  steersman  is  a  better  judge  of  a  tiller  than  he  who  made 
it,  and  he  who  gives  an  entertainment  than  the  cook.  What  has 
been  said  seems  a  sufficient  solution  of  this  difficulty ;  but  there 


THE  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  759 

is  another  that  follows,  for  it  seems  absurd  that  greater  power  in 
the  state  should  be  lodged  with  the  bad  than  with  the  good. 
Now  the  power  of  election  and  censure  is  of  the  very  utmost 
consequence,  and  this,  as  has  been  said,  in  some  states  they 
intrust  to  the  people,  for  the  general  assembly  is  the  supreme 
court  of  all.  And  yet  they  have  a  voice  in  this  court,  and  delib- 
erate on  all  public  affairs,  and  try  all  causes,  without  any  objec- 
tion to  the  meanness  of  their  circumstances,  and  at  any  age ; 
but  their  questors,  generals,  and  other  great  officers  of  state  are 
taken  from  men  of  high  condition.  This  difficulty,  then,  may  be 
solved  upon  the  same  principle  ;  and  here,  too,  they  may  be  right. 
For  the  power  is  not  in  the  man  who  is  a  member  of  the  assem- 
bly or  council,  but  in  the  assembly  itself,  and  in  the  council  and 
people,  of  which  each  individual  of  the  whole  community  forms 
a  part,  as  senator,  adviser,  or  judge.  And  for  this  reason  it  is 
very  right  that  the  many  should  have  the  greatest  powers  in  their 
own  hands  ;  for  the  people,  the  council,  and  the  judges  are  com- 
posed of  them,  and  the  property  of  all  these  collectively  is  more 
than  the  property  of  any  person,  or  of  a  few  who  fill  the  great 
offices  of  the  state,  and  thus  let  us  determine  these  points. 

But  the  first  question  that  we  stated  shows  nothing  besides  so 
plainly  as  that  the  supreme  power  should  be  lodged  in  laws  duly 
made,  and  that  the  magistrate,  or  magistrates  (either  one  or 
more),  should  be  authorized  to  determine  those  cases  on  which 
the  laws  cannot  define  particularly,  as  it  is  impossible  for  them, 
in  general  language,  to  explain  themselves  upon  everything  that 
may  arise.  But  what  these  laws  are,  which  are  established  upon 
the  best  foundations,  has  not  been  yet  explained,  but  still  re- 
mains a  matter  of  some  question ;  but  the  laws  of  every  state 
will  necessarily  be  like  the  state  itself,  either  trifling  or  excellent, 
just  or  unjust ;  for  it  is  evident  that  the  laws  which  are  framed 
must  correspond  to  the  constitution  of  the  government,  and,  if 
so,  it  is  plain  that  a  well-formed  government  will  have  good 
laws  ;  a  bad  one,  bad  ones. 

It  now  remains  that  we  examine  into  a  free  state,  and  also 
those  other  forms  of  government,  —  an  oligarchy,  a  democracy, 


760  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

and  a  tyrant.  And  it  is  evident  which  of  these  three  excesses 
must  be  the  worst  of  all,  and  which  next  to  it ;  for,  of  course, 
the  excesses  of  the  best  and  most  divine  must  be  the  worst,  for 
it  must  necessarily  happen  either  that  the  monarchy  will  have 
only  the  name  of  king  remaining  without  a  reality,  or  else  that 
it  will  remain  owing  to  the  great  excess  of  power  on  the  part  of 
the  king ;  whence  a  tyranny  will  arise,  the  worst  excess  imagi- 
nable, as  being  a  government  the  most  contrary  to  a  free  state. 
The  excess  next  most  hurtful  is  an  oligarchy;  for  an  aristocracy 
differs  much  from  this  sort  of  government ;  and  that  which  is  least 
hurtful  is  a  democracy.  This  subject  has  been  already  treated 
by  one  of  those  writers  who  have  gone  before  me,  though  his 
views  do  not  look  the  same  way  as  mine,  for  he  thought  that  a 
democracy  was  the  worst  of  all  excellent  constitutions,  as  com- 
pared with  a  good  oligarchy  or  the  like,  but  the  best  of  all  bad 
ones.  Now  I  affirm  that  all  these  states  without  exception  have 
fallen  into  excess,  and  also  it  is  not  well  to  say  that  one  oligarchy 
is  better  than  another,  but  that  it  is  not  quite  so  bad.  But  let  us 
defer  this  question  for  the  present.  We  must  first  inquire  how 
many  different  sorts  of  free  states  there  are,  since  there  are 
many  species  of  democracies  and  oligarchies,  and  which  of  them 
is  the  most  comprehensive  and  most  desirable  as  being  the  best 
form  of  government ;  or  if  there  is  any  other,  aristocratic  in  its 
principles,  and  well  established  ;  and  also  which  of  these  is 
best  adapted  to  most  cities,  and  which  of  them  is  preferable  for 
particular  persons  (for  probably  some  may  suit  better  with  a  vio- 
lent oligarchy  than  with  a  democracy,  and  others  better  with 
the  latter  than  the  former);  and  afterwards  in  what  manner  a 
man  ought  to  proceed  who  desires  to  establish  either  of  these 
states,  I  mean  the  several  species  of  democracy  and  of  oligarchy. 
And,  to  conclude,  when  we  shall  have  briefly  made  mention  of 
everything  that  is  necessary  we  must  endeavor  to  point  out  the 
sources  of  corruption  and  of  stability  in  governments,  as  well 
those  which  are  common  to  all  as  those  which  are  peculiar  to 
each  state,  and  from  what  causes  they  chiefly  are  wont  to  arise. 


THE  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  761 

We  have  now  nearly  gone  through  all  those  particulars  of 
which  we  proposed  to  speak ;  -it  remains  that  we  next  consider 
from  what  causes,  and  how  many,  and  of  what  kinds,  a  change 
arises  in  governments,  and  what  tends  to  the  destruction  of  each 
state  ;  as  also  from  what  form  a  polity  is  most  likely  to  shift  into 
another  form,  and  what  are  the  preservatives  both  of  govern- 
ments in  general  and  of  each  state  in  particular,  and  what  are 
the  means  of  saving  each  form  of  government  from  corruption. 
And  here  we  ought  first  to  lay  down  this  principle,  that  there 
are  many  governments,  all  of  which  approve  of  what  is  just  and 
equal  according  to  analogy,  and  yet  fail  of  attaining  to  it,  as  we 
have  already  mentioned.  Thus  democracies  have  arisen  from 
supposing  that  those  who  are  equal  in  any  one  thing  are  so  in 
every  other  circumstance ;  as,  because  they  are  equal  in  liberty 
they  think  themselves  equal  in  everything  else ;  and  oligarchies, 
from  supposing  that  those  who  are  unequal  in  one  thing  are 
unequal  in  all,  for  they  deem  that  when  men  are  unequal  in 
point  of  fortune  there  can  be  no  equality  between  them.  Hence 
it  follows  that  those  who  in  some  respects  are  equal  with  others 
endeavor  to  secure  an  equality  with  them  in  everything ;  and 
those  who  are  superior  to  others  endeavor  to  get  still  more ;  and 
it  is  this  more  which  keeps  the  inequality.  Thus,  though  most 
states  have  some  notion  of  what  is  just,  yet  they  are  almost 
totally  wrong,  and  upon  this  account,  when  either  party  has  not 
that  share  in  the  administration  which  answers  to  its  expecta- 
tions it  becomes  seditious.  But  those  who  of  all  others  have  the 
greatest  right  so  to  act  are  least  disposed  to  do  it,  namely,  those 
who  excel  in  virtue  ;  for  it  is  most  reasonable  that  they  alone 
should  be  generally  superior  to  the  rest.  There  are,  too,  some 
persons  of  distinguished  families  who,  on  account  of  that  point 
of  superiority,  disdain  to  be  on  an  equality  with  others  ;  for  those 
esteem  themselves  noble  who  can  boast  of  their  ancestors'  merit 
and  fortune,  and  these,  to  speak  the  truth,  are  the  source  and 
fountain  head  from  whence  seditions  arise.  Accordingly  changes 
of  government  take  place  in  two  distinct  ways  :  at  one  time 
they  raise  seditions  for  the  purpose  of  changing  the  state  already 
established  to  some  other  form,  as  when  they  propose  to  erect 


762  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

an  oligarchy  instead  of  a  democracy,  or  a  democracy  or  free  state 
in  place  of  an  oligarchy,  or  an  aristocracy  in  place  of  these,  or 
one  of  the  latter  instead  of  an  aristocracy;  and  at  another  time, 
without  reference  to  the  established  government,  which  they  wish 
to  be  still  the  same,  though  they  choose  to  have  the  sole  man- 
agement of  it  themselves,  either  in  the  hands  of  a  few  or  of  one 
only.  They  will  also  raise  commotions  concerning  the  degree 
of  power  to  be  established,  as,  for  instance,  if  the  government  is 
an  oligarchy,  and  in  the  same  manner  if  it  is  a  democracy,  to 
have  it  more  purely  so,  or  else  to  have  it  less  so  ;  and,  in  like 
manner,  in  the  case  of  the  other  forms  of  government,  changes 
arise  either  to  extend  or  contract  their  powers,  or  else  to  make 
some  alterations  in  some  parts  of  it,  as  to  establish  or  abolish  a 
particular  magistracy,  as  some  persons  say  Lysander  endeavored 
to  abolish  the  kingly  power  in  Sparta,  and  King  Pausanias  that 
of  the  ephors.  Thus  in  Epidamnus  there  was  an  alteration  in 
one  part  of  the  constitution,  for  instead  of  the  phylarchs  they 
established  a  senate.  It  is  also  still  necessary  for  all  the  magis- 
trates at  Athens  to  attend  in  the  court  of  heliaea  when  any  new 
magistrate  is  created  ;  the  power  of  the  one  archon,  also,  in 
that  state  partook  of  the  nature  of  an  oligarchy.  Inequality  is 
always  the  occasion  of  sedition,  but  among  those  who  are  not 
equal  an  unequal  treatment  is  not  unfair.  Thus  kingly  power  is 
unequal  when  it  is  exercised  over  equals.  Upon  the  whole  it  is 
this  aiming  after  an  equality  which  is  the  cause  of  seditions. 
But  equality  is  twofold,  for  it  is  either  in  number  or  in  desert. 
Equality  in  number  is  when  two  things  contain  the  same  parts 
or  the  same  quantity;  but  equality  in  value  is  attained  by  pro- 
portion, as  three  exceeds  two  and  two  exceeds  one  by  the  same 
number;  but  by  proportion  four  exceeds  two  and  two  one  in  the 
same  degree,  for  two  is  the  same  part  of  four  as  one  is  of  two, 
that  is  to  say,  they  are  halves.  Now  all  agree  as  to  what  is  abso- 
lutely and  simply  just,  but,  as  we  have  already  said,  they  dis- 
pute concerning  proportionate  value ;  for  some  persons,  if  they 
are  equal  in  one  respect,  think  themselves  equal  in  all ;  others, 
if  they  are  superior  in  one  thing,  think  they  may  claim  the  supe- 
riority in  all.  Hence  chiefly  there  arise  two  sorts  of  governments, — 


THE  FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  763 

democracy  and  oligarchy;  for  nobility  and  merit  are  to  be  found 
only  among  a  few ;  but  their  contraries,  among  the  many,  as 
there  is  not  one  man  of  nobility  and  merit  in  a  hundred,  but 
many  without  either  are  everywhere.  But  to  establish  a  govern- 
ment entirely  upon  either  of  these  equalities  is  wrong,  as  is  made 
clear  by  the  example  of  those  so  established,  for  none  of  them 
has  been  stable.  And  the  reason  of  this  is,  that  it  is  impossible 
that  whatever  is  wrong  at  the  first  and  in  principle  should  not 
at  last  come  to  a  bad  result ;  and  therefore  in  some  things  an 
equality  of  numbers  ought  to  take  place,  in  others  an  equality 
in  value.  However,  a  democracy  is  safer  and  less  liable  to  sedi- 
tion than  an  oligarchy,  for  in  this  latter  it  may  arise  from  two 
causes,  the  few  in  power  conspiring  either  against  each  other  or 
against  the  people ;  but  in  a  democracy  men  conspire  only 
against  the  few  who  aim  at  exclusive  power,  but  there  is  no 
instance  worth  speaking  of  where  the  people  have  raised  a 
sedition  against  themselves.  Moreover,  a  government  composed 
of  men  of  moderate  fortunes  comes  much  nearer  to  a  democracy 
than  to  an  oligarchy,  and  is  the  safest  of  all  such  states. 


XXXIV 

THE  PRINCE1 

OF  PRINCIPALITIES  ACQUIRED  BY  ONE'S  OWN  PROPER 
CONDUCT  AND  ARMS 

Let  no  man  think  it  strange  if  in  speaking  of  new  govern- 
ments, either  by  princes  or  states,  I  introduce  great  and  eminent 
examples ;  forasmuch  as  men  in  their  actions  follow  commonly 
the  ways  that  are  beaten,  and  when  they  would  do  any  generous 
thing  they  propose  to  themselves  some  pattern  of  that  nature, 
nevertheless,  being  impossible  to  come  up  exactly  to  that,  or  to 
acquire  that  virtue  in  perfection  which  you  desire  to  imitate,  a 
wise  man  ought  always  to  set  before  him  for  his  example  the 
actions  of  great  men  who  have  excelled  in  the  achievement  of 
some  great  exploit,  to  the  end  that  though  his  virtue  and  power 
arrives  not  at  that  perfection,  it  may  at  least  come  as  near  as 
possible,  and  receive  some  tincture  thereby,  like  experienced 
archers  who,  observing  the  mark  to  be  at  great  distance,  and 
knowing  the  strength  of  their  bow,  and  how  far  it  will  carry, 
fix  their  aim  somewhat  higher  than  the  mark,  not  with  design 
to  shoot  at  that  height,  but  that  by  mounting  their  arrow  to  a 
certain  proportion,  they  may  come  the  nearer  to  the  mark  they 
intend.  I  say,  then,  that  principalities  newly  acquired  by  an 
upstart  prince  are  more  or  less  difficult  to  maintain,  as  he  is 
more  or  less  provident  that  gains  them.  And  because  the  happi- 
ness of  rising  from  a  private  person  to  be  a  prince  presupposes 
great  virtue,  or  fortune,  where  both  of  them  concur  they  do 
much  facilitate  the  conservation  of  the  conquest ;  yet  he  who 
has  committed  least  to  fortune  has  continued  the  longest.  It 
prevents  much  trouble  likewise  when  the  prince  (having  no  better 

1  From  The  Prince,  by  Nicholas  Machiavelli,  chaps,  vi,  vii,  viii,  ix.  Translated 
by  Henry  Neville,  London,  1675. 

764 


THE  PRINCE  765 

residence  elsewhere)  is  constrained  to  live  personally  among 
them.  But  to  speak  of  such  who  by  their  virtue  rather  than 
fortune  have  advanced  themselves  to  that  dignity,  I  say  that 
the  most  renowned  and  excellent  are  Moses,  Cyrus,  Romulus, 
Theseus,  and  the  like  ;  and  though  Moses  might  be  reasonably 
excepted,  as  being  only  the  executioner  of  God's  immediate  com- 
mands, yet  he  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  if  it  were  only  for  that 
grace  which  rendered  him  capable  of  communication  with  God. 
But  if  we  consider  Cyrus  and  the  rest  of  the  conquerors  and 
founders  of  monarchies,  we  shall  find  them  extraordinary;  and 
examining  their  lives  and  exploits,  they  will  appear  not  much 
different  from  Moses,  who  had  so  incomparable  a  master ;  for 
by  their  conversations  and  successes  they  do  not  seem  to  have 
received  anything  from  fortune  but  occasion  and  opportunity 
of  introducing  -what  forms  of  government  they  pleased ;  and  as 
without  that  occasion  the  greatness  of  their  courage  had  never 
been  known,  so  had  not  they  been  magnanimous  and  taken 
hold  of  it,  that  occasion  had  happened  in  vain.  It  was  necessary, 
therefore,  for  Moses,  that  the  people  of  Israel  should  be  in  cap- 
tivity in  Egypt,  that  to  free  themselves  from  bondage  they  might 
be  disposed  to  follow  him  ;  it  was  not  inconvenient  that  Romulus 
should  be  turned  out  of  Alba  and  exposed  to  the  wild  beasts 
when  he  was  young,  that  he  might  afterwards  be  made  king  of 
Rome  and  founder  of  that  great  empire.  It  was  not  unnecessary 
likewise  that  Cyrus  should  find  the  Persians  mutinying  at  the 
tyranny  of  the  Medes,  and  that  the  Medes  should  be  grown  soft 
and  effeminate  with  their  long  peace.  Theseus  could  never  have 
given  proof  of  his  virtue  and  generosity  had  not  the  Athenians 
been  in  great  trouble  and  confusion.  These  great  advantages 
made  those  great  persons  eminent,  and  their  great  wisdom  knew 
how  to  improve  them  to  the  reputation  and  enlargement  of  their 
country.  They  then  who  become  great  by  the  ways  of  virtue 
(as  the  princes  above  said)  do  meet  with  many  difficulties  before 
they  arrive  at  their  ends,  but  having  compassed  them  once  they 
easily  keep  them  :  the  difficulties  in  the  acquisition  arise  in  part 
from  new  laws  and  customs  which  they  are  forced  to  introduce 
for  the  establishment  and  security  of  their  own  dominion  ;  and 


766  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

this  is  to  be  considered,  that  there  is  nothing  more  difficult  to 
undertake,  more  uncertain  to  succeed,  and  more  dangerous  to 
manage  than  to  make  one's  self  prince  and  prescribe  new  laws, 
because  he  who  innovates  in  that  manner  has  for  his  enemies  all 
those  who  made  any  advantage  by  the  old  laws  ;  and  those  who 
expect  benefit  by  the  new  will  be  but  cool  and  lukewarm  in  his 
defense,  which  lukewarmness  proceeds  from  a  certain  awe  for 
their  adversaries  who  have  their  old  laws  on  their  side,  and  partly 
from  a  natural  incredulity  in  mankind,  which  gives  credit  but 
slowly  to  any  new  thing,  unless  recommended  first  by  the  ex- 
periment of  success.  Hence  it  proceeds  that  the  first  time  the 
adversary  has  opportunity  to  make  an  attempt,  he  does  it  with 
great  briskness  and  vigor,  but  the  defense  is  so  tepid  and  faint 
that  for  the  most  part  the  new  prince  and  his  adherents  perish 
together.  Wherefore  for  better  discussion  of  this  case  it  is 
necessary  to  inquire  whether  these  innovators  do  stand  upon 
their  own  feet  or  depend  upon  other  people,  —  that  is  to  say, 
whether  in  the  conduct  of  their  affairs  they  do  make  more  use 
of  their  rhetoric  than  their  arms.  In  the  first  case  they  com- 
monly miscarry,  and  their  designs  seldom  succeed ;  but  when 
their  expectations  are  only  from  themselves,  and  they  have  power 
in  their  own  hands  to  make  themselves  obeyed,  they  run  little  or 
no  hazard,  and  do  frequently  prevail.  For  further  eviction,  the 
Scripture  shows  us  that  those  of  the  prophets  whose  arms  were 
in  their  hands,  and  had  power  to  compel,  succeeded  better  in 
the  reformations  which  they  designed  ;  whereas  those  who  came 
only  with  exhortation  and  good  language  suffered  martyrdom  and 
banishment,  because  (besides  the  reasons  above  said)  the  people 
are  unconstant  and  susceptible  of  any  new  doctrine  at  first,  but 
not  easily  brought  to  retain  it ;  so  that  things  are  to  be  ordered 
in  such  manner  that  when  their  faith  begins  to  stagger  they  may 
be  forced  to  persist.  Moses,  Cyrus,  Theseus,  and  Romulus  could 
never  have  made  their  laws  to  have  been  long  observed,  had  they 
not  had  power  to  have  compelled  it ;  as  in  our  days  it  happened 
to  Friar  Jerome  Savonarola,  who  ruined  himself  by  his  new  in- 
stitutions, as  soon  as  the  people  of  Florence  began  to  desert  him, 
for  he  had  no  means  to  confirm  them  who  had  been  of  his 


THE  PRINCE  767 

opinion,  nor  to  constrain  such  as  dissented.  Wherefore  such  per- 
sons meet  with  great  difficulty  in  their  affairs  ;  all  their  dangers 
are  still  by  the  way,  which  they  can  hardly  overcome  but  by 
some  extraordinary  virtue  and  excellence  ;  nevertheless,  when 
once  they  have  surmounted  them  and  arrived  at  any  degree  of 
veneration,  having  supplanted  those  who  envied  their  advance- 
ment, they  remain  puissant,  and  firm,  and  honorable,  and  happy. 
I  will  add  to  these  great  examples  another,  perhaps  not  so  con- 
spicuous, but  one  that  will  bear  a  proportion  and  resemblance 
with  the  rest,  and  shall  satisfy  me  for  all  others  of  that  nature. 
It  is  of  Hiero  of  Syracuse,  who  from  a  private  person  was  made 
prince  of  that  city,  for  which  he  was  beholding  to  fortune  no 
further  than  for  the  occasion,  because  the  Syracusans,  being  under 
oppression,  chose  him  for  their  captain,  in  which  command  he 
behaved  himself  so  well  that  he  deserved  to  be  made  their  prince, 
for  he  was  a  person  of  so  great  virtue  and  excellence  that  those 
who  have  writ  of  him  have  given  him  this  character,  that  even  in 
his  private  condition  he  wanted  nothing  but  a  kingdom  to  make 
him  an  admirable  king.  This  Hiero  subdued  the  old  militia,  estab- 
lished a  new,  renounced  the  old  allies,  confederated  with  others, 
and  having  friends  and  forces  of  his  own,  he  was  able  upon  such 
a  foundation  to  erect  what  fabric  he  pleased,  so  that  though  the 
acquisition  cost  him  much  trouble,  he  maintained  it  with  little. 


OF  NEW  PRINCIPALITIES  ACQUIRED  BY  ACCIDENT  AND  THE 
SUPPLIES  OF  OTHER  PEOPLE 

They  who  from  private  condition  ascend  to  be  princes,  and 
merely  by  the  indulgence  of  fortune  arrive  without  much  trouble 
at  their  dignity,  though  it  costs  them  dear  to  maintain  it,  meet 
but  little  difficulty  in  their  passage,  being  hurried,  as  it  were,  with 
wings,  yet  when  they  come  to  settle  and  establish,  then  begins 
their  misery.  These  kinds  of  persons  are  such  as  attain  their 
dignity  by  bribes,  or  concession  of  some  other  great  prince,  as  it 
happened  to  several  in  Greece,  in  the  cities  of  Ionia,  and  upon 


768  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  Hellespont,  where  they  were  invested  with  that  power  by 
Darius  for  his  greater  security  and  glory,  and  to  those  emperors 
who  arrived  at  the  empire  by  the  corruption  of  the  soldiers.  Such 
a  person,  I  say,  subsists  wholly  upon  the  pleasure  and  fortune  of 
those  who  advanced  him,  which  being  two  things  very  valuable 
and  uncertain,  he  has  neither  knowledge  nor  power  to  continue 
long  in  that  degree ;  he  has  not  the  knowledge,  because  unless 
he  be  a  man  of  extraordinary  qualities  and  virtue,  it  is  not  reason- 
able to  think  he  who  before  lived  always  in  a  private  condition 
himself  can  know  how  to  command  other  people ;  he  has  not 
the  power,  because  he  has  no  forces  upon  whose  friendship  and 
fidelity  he  can  rely.  Moreover,  states  which  are  suddenly  con- 
quered (as  all  things  else  in  nature  whose  rise  and  increase  is  so 
speedy)  can  have  no  root  or  foundation  but  what  will  be  shaken 
and  supplanted  by  the  first  gust  of  adversity,  unless  they  who 
have  been  so  suddenly  exalted  be  so  wise  as  to  prepare  prudently 
in  time  for  the  conservation  of  what  fortune  threw  so  luckily 
into  their  lap,  and  establish  afterwards  such  fundamentals  for 
their  duration  as  others  (which  I  mentioned  before)  have  done 
in  the  like  cases.  About  the  arrival  at  this  authority,  either  by 
virtue  or  good  fortune,  I  shall  instance  in  two  examples  that  are 
fresh  in  our  memory  :  one  is  Francesco  Sforza,  the  other  Cesare 
Borgia.  Sforza  by  just  means  and  extraordinary  virtue  made  him- 
self duke  of  Milan,  and  enjoyed  it  in  great  peace,  though  gained 
with  much  trouble.  Borgia,  on  the  other  side  (called  commonly 
Duke  Valentine),  got  several  fair  territories  by  the  fortune  of  his 
father,  Pope  Alexander,  and  lost  them  all  after  his  death,  though 
he  used  all  his  industry  and  employed  all  the  arts  which  a  wise 
and  brave  prince  ought  to  do  to  fix  himself  in  the  sphere  where 
the  arms  and  fortune  of  other  people  had  placed  him  ;  for  he  (as 
I  said  before)  who  laid  not  his  foundation  in  time  may  yet  raise 
his  superstructure,  but  with  great  trouble  to  the  architect  and 
great  danger  to  the  building.  If  therefore  the  whole  progress  of 
the  said  duke  be  considered,  it  will  be  found  what  solid  founda- 
tions he  had  laid  for  his  future  dominion,  of  which  progress  I 
think  it  not  superfluous  to  discourse,  because  I  know  not  what 
better  precepts  to  display  before  a  new  prince  than  the  example 


THE  PRINCE  769 

of  his  actions,  and  though  his  own  orders  and  methods  did  him 
no  good,  it  was  not  so  much  his  fault  as  the  malignity  of  his 
fortune. 

Pope  Alexander  the  Sixth  had  a  desire  to  make  his  son,  Duke 
Valentine,  great,  but  he  saw  many  blocks  and  impediments  in  the 
way,  both  for  the  present  and  future.  First,  he  could  not  see  any 
way  to  advance  him  to  any  territory  that  depended  not  upon  the 
church,  and  to  those  in  his  gift  he  was  sure  the  duke  of  Milan 
and  the  Venetians  would  never  consent,  for  Faenza  and  Rimini 
had  already  put  themselves  under  the  Venetian  protection.  He 
was  likewise  sensible  that  the  forces  of  Italy,  especially  those  who 
were  capable  of  assisting  him,  were  in  the  hands  of  those  who 
ought  to  apprehend  the  greatness  of  the  pope,  as  the  Orsini, 
Colonnesi,  and  their  followers,  and  therefore  could  not  repose 
any  great  confidence  in  them  ;  besides,  the  laws  and  alliances  of 
all  the  states  in  Italy  must  of  necessity  be  disturbed  before  he 
could  make  himself  master  of  any  part,  which  was  no  hard  matter 
to  do,  finding  the  Venetians,  upon  some  private  interest  of  their 
own,  inviting  the  French  to  another  expedition  into  Italy,  which 
his  Holiness  was  so  far  from  opposing  that  he  promoted  it  by 
the  dissolution  of  King  Louis  his  former  marriage.  Louis  there- 
fore passed  the  Alps  by  the  assistance  of  the  Venetians  and 
Alexander's  consent,  and  was  no  sooner  in  Milan  but  he  sent 
forces  to  assist  the  pope  in  his  enterprise  against  Romagna, 
which  was  immediately  surrendered  upon  the  king's  reputation. 
Romagna  being  in  this  manner  reduced  by  the  duke,  and  the 
Colonnesi  defeated,  being  ambitious  not  only  to  keep  what  he 
had  got  but  to  advance  in  his  conquests,  two  things  obstructed  : 
one  was  the  infidelity  of  his  own  army,  the  other  the  aversion  of 
the  French  :  for  he  was  jealous  of  the  forces  of  the  Orsini  who 
were  in  his  service  ;  suspected  they  would  fail  him  in  his  need,  and 
either  hinder  his  conquest  or  take  it  from  him  when  he  had  done, 
and  the  same  fears  he  had  of  the  French  ;  and  his  jealousy  of  the 
Orsini  was  much  increased,  when  after  the  expugnation  of  Faenza, 
assaulting  Bologna,  he  found  them  very  cold  and  backward  in  the 
attack  ;  and  the  king's  inclination  he  discovered  when,  having  pos- 
sessed himself  of  the  duchy  of  Urbin,  he  invaded  Tuscany  and 


770  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

was  by  him  required  to  desist.  Whereupon  the  duke  resolved  to 
depend  no  longer  upon  fortune  and  foreign  assistance,  and  the 
first  course  he  took  was  to  weaken  the  party  of  the  Orsini  and 
Colonni  in  Rome,  which  he  effected  very  neatly  by  debauching 
such  of  their  adherents  as  were  gentlemen,  taking  them  into  his 
own  service  and  giving  them  honorable  pensions  and  governments 
and  commands  according  to  their  respective  qualities,  so  that  in 
a  few  months  their  passion  for  that  faction  evaporated  and  they 
turned  all  for  the  duke.  After  this  he  attended  an  opportunity  of 
supplanting  the  Orsini,  as  he  had  done  the  family  of  the  Colonni 
before,  which  happened  very  luckily  and  was  as  luckily  improved. 
For  the  Orsini,  considering  too  late  that  the  greatness  of  the  duke 
and  the  church  tended  to  their  ruin,  held  a  council  at  a  place 
called  Magione,  in  Perugia,  which  occasioned  the  rebellion  of 
Urbin,  the  tumults  of  Romagna,  and  a  thousand  dangers  to  the 
duke  besides  ;  but  though  he  overcame  them  all  by  the  assistance 
of  the  French,  and  recovered  his  reputation,  yet  he  grew  weary 
of  his  foreign  allies,  as  having  nothing  further  to  oblige  them, 
and  betook  himself  to  his  artifice,  which  he  managed  so  dexter- 
ously that  the  Orsini  reconciled  themselves  to  him  by  the  media- 
tion of  Seignior  Paulo,  with  whom  for  his  security  he  comported 
so  handsomely  by  presenting  with  money,  rich  stuffs,  and  horses, 
that  being  convinced  of  his  integrity,  he  conducted  them  to  Sini- 
gaglia,  and  delivered  them  into  the  duke's  hands.  Having  by  this 
means  exterminated  the  chief  of  his  adversaries  and  reduced  their 
friends,  the  duke  had  laid  a  fair  foundation  for  his  greatness,  hav- 
ing gained  Romagna  and  the  duchy  of  Urbin  and  insinuated  with 
the  people  by  giving  them  a  gust  of  their  future  felicity.  And 
because  this  part  is  not  unworthy  to  be  known,  for  imitation's 
sake  I  will  not  pass  it  in  silence.  When  the  duke  had  possessed 
himself  of  Romagna,  finding  it  had  been  governed  by  poor  and 
inferior  lords,  who  had  rather  robbed  than  corrected  their  sub- 
jects, and  given  them  more  occasion  of  discord  than  unity,  in- 
somuch as  that  province  was  full  of  robberies,  riots,  and  all 
manner  of  insolencies,  to  reduce  them  to  unanimity  and  subjec- 
tion to  monarchy,  he  thought  it  necessary  to  provide  them  a 
good  governor,  and  thereupon  he  conferred  that  charge  upon 


THE  PRINCE 


771 


Reniro  d'Orco,  with  absolute  power,  though  he  was  a  cruel  and 
a  passionate  man.  Oreo  was  not  long  before  he  had  settled 
it  in  peace,  with  no  small  reputation  to  himself.  Afterwards 
the  duke,  apprehending  that  so  large  a  power  might  grow  odious 
to  the  people,  erected  a  court  of  judicature  in  the  middle  of  the 
province,  in  which  every  city  had  its  advocate,  and  an  excellent 
person  was  appointed  to  preside.  And  because  he  discovered 
that  his  past  severity  had  created  him  many  enemies,  to  remove 
that  ill  opinion  and  recover  the  affections  of  the  people,  he  had 
a  mind  to  show  that  if  any  cruelty  had  been  exercised  it  pro- 
ceeded not  from  him  but  from  the  arrogance  of  his  minister; 
and  for  their  further  confirmation  he  caused  the  said  governor 
to  be  apprehended  and  his  head  chopped  off  one  morning  in 
the  market  place  at  Cesena,  with  a  wooden  dagger  on  one  side 
of  him  and  a  bloody  knife  on  the  other,  the  ferocity  of  which 
spectacle  not  only  appeased  but  amazed  the  people  for  a  while. 
But  reassuming  our  discourse,  I  say  the  duke,  finding  himself 
powerful  enough,  and  secure  against  present  danger,  being  him- 
self as  strong  as  he  desired,  and  his  neighbors  in  a  manner 
reduced  to  an  incapacity  of  hurting  him,  being  willing  to  go  on 
with  his  conquests,  there  remained  nothing  but  a  jealousy  of 
France,  and  not  without  cause,  for  he  knew  that  king  had  found 
his  error  at  last,  and  would  be  sure  to  obstruct  him.  Hereupon 
he  began  to  look  abroad  for  new  allies,  and  to  hesitate  and 
stagger  towards  France,  as  appeared  when  the  French  army 
advanced  into  the  kingdom  of  Naples  against  the  Spaniards 
who  had  besieged  Cajeta ;  his  great  design  was  to  secure  him- 
self against  the  French,  and  he  had  doubtless  done  it  if  Alexan- 
der had  lived.  These  were  his  provisions  against  the  dangers 
that  were  imminent,  but  those  that  were  remote  were  more 
doubtful  and  uncertain.  The  first  thing  he  feared  was  lest  the 
next  pope  should  be  his  enemy  and  reassume  all  that  Alexander 
had  given  him  ;  to  prevent  which  he  proposed  four  several  ways  : 
the  first  was  by  destroying  the  whole  line  of  those  lords  whom 
he  had  dispossessed,  that  his  Holiness  might  have  no  occasion 
to  restore  them  ;  the  second  was  to  cajole  the  nobility  in  Rome, 
and  draw  them  over  to  his  party,  that  thereby  he  might  put  an 


772  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

awe  and  restraint  upon  the  pope ;  the  third  was,  if  possible,  to 
make  the  college  his  friends ;  the  fourth  was  to  make  himself 
so  strong  before  the  death  of  his  father  as  to  be  able  to  stand 
upon  his  own  legs,  and  repel  the  first  violence  that  should  be 
practiced  against  him.  Three  of  these  four  expedients  he  had 
tried  before  Alexander  died,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  for  the 
fourth ;  all  the  disseized  lords  which  came  into  his  clutches  he 
put  to  death,  and  left  few  of  them  remaining ;  he  had  insinuated 
with  the  nobility  of  Rome,  and  got  a  great  party  in  the  college 
of  cardinals,  and  as  to  his  own  corroboration,  he  had  designed 
to  make  himself  master  of  Tuscany,  had  got  possession  of 
Perugia  and  Piombino  already,  and  taken  Pisa  into  his  protec- 
tion ;  and  having  now  no  further  regard  for  the  French  (who 
were  beaten  out  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples  by  the  Spaniard, 
and  both  of  them  reduced  to  a  necessity  of  seeking  his  amity), 
he  leaped  bluntly  into  Pisa,  after  which  Lucca  and  Siena  sub- 
mitted without  much  trouble,  partly  in  hatred  to  the  Florentines, 
and  partly  for  fear ;  and  the  Florentines  were  grown  desperate 
and  without  any  hopes  of  relief,  so  that  had  these  things  hap- 
pened before,  as  they  did  the  same  year  in  which  Alexander 
died,  doubtless  he  had  gained  so  much  strength  and  reputation 
that  he  would  have  stood  firm  by  himself,  upon  the  basis  of  his 
own  power  and  conduct,  without  depending  upon  fortune  or  any 
foreign  supplies.  But  his  father  died  five  years  after  his  son 
had  taken  up  arms,  and  left  him  nothing  solid  and  in  certainty 
but  Romagna  only ;  the  rest  were  in  nubibns,  infested  with  two 
formidable  armies,  and  himself  mortally  sick.  This  duke  was  a 
man  of  that  magnanimity  and  prudence,  and  understood  so  well 
which  way  men  were  to  be  wheedled,  or  destroyed,  and  such 
were  the  foundations  that  he  had  laid  in  a  short  time,  that  had 
he  not  had  those  two  great  armies  upon  his  back,  and  a  fierce 
distemper  upon  his  body,  he  had  overcome  all  difficulties  and 
brought  his  designs  to  perfection.  That  the  foundations  which 
he  had  laid  were  plausible  appeared  by  the  patience  of  his  sub- 
jects in  Romagna,  who  held  out  for  him  a  complete  month, 
though  they  knew  he  was  at  death's  door,  and  unlikely  ever  to 
come  out  of  Rome  :  to  which  place,  though  the  Baglioni,  the 


THE  PRINCE 


773 


Vitelli,  and  Orsini  returned,  seeing  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
his  recovery,  yet  they  could  not  gain  any  of  his  party,  nor 
debauch  them  to  their  side  ;  't  is  possible  he  was  not  able  to  put 
whom  he  pleased  into  the  pontifical  chair,  yet  he  had  power 
enough  to  keep  any  man  out  who  he  thought  was  his  enemy ; 
but  had  it  been  his  fortune  to  have  been  well  when  his  father 
Alexander  died,  all  things  had  succeeded  to  his  mind.  He  told 
me  himself  about  the  time  that  Julius  XI  was  created,  that  he 
had  considered  well  the  accidents  that  might  befall  him  upon  the 
death  of  his  father,  and  provided  against  them  all,  only  he  did 
not  imagine  that  at  his  death  he  should  be  so  near  it  himself. 
Upon  serious  examination,  therefore,  of  the  whole  conduct  of 
Duke  Valentine,  I  see  nothing  to  be  reprehended ;  it  seems 
rather  proper  to  me  to  propose  him  (as  I  have  done)  as  ah 
example  for  the  imitation  of  all  such  as,  by  the  favor  of  fortune 
or  the  supplies  of  other  princes,  have  got  into  the  saddle ;  for 
his  mind  being  so  large  and  his  intentions  so  high,  he  could  not 
do  otherwise,  and  nothing  could  have  opposed  the  greatness 
and  wisdom  of  his  designs  but  his  own  infirmity  and  the  death 
of  his  father.  He  therefore  who  thinks  it  necessary  in  the 
minority  of  his  dominion  to  secure  himself  against  his  enemies  ; 
to  gain  himself  friends ;  to  overcome,  whether  by  force  or  by 
fraud ;  to  make  himself  beloved  or  feared  by  his  people ;  to  be 
followed  and  reverenced  by  his  soldiers ;  to  destroy  and  exter- 
minate such  as  would  do  him  injury ;  to  repeal  and  suppress  old 
laws,  and  introduce  new ;  to  be  severe,  grateful,  magnanimous, 
liberal;  to  cashier  and  disband  such  of  his  army  as  were  unfaithful, 
and  put  new  in  their  places ;  to  manage  himself  so  in  his  alliances 
with  kings  and  princes  that  all  of  them  should  be  either  obliged 
to  requite  him,  or  afraid  to  offend  him,  — he,  I  say,  cannot  find 
a  fresher  or  better  model  than  the  actions  of  this  prince.  If  in 
anything  he  is  to  be  condemned,  it  is  in  suffering  the  election 
of  Julius  XI,  which  was  much  to  his  prejudice,  for  though  (as 
is  said  before)  he  might  be  unable  to  make  the  pope  as  he 
pleased,  yet  it  was  in  his  power  to  have  put  any  one  by,  and 
he  ought  never  to  have  consented  to  the  election  of  any  of  the 
cardinals  whom  he  had  formerly  offended,  or  who  after  their 


774  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

promotion  were  likely  to  be  jealous  of  him,  for  men  are  as  mis- 
chievous for  fear  as  for  hatred.  Those  cardinals  which  he  had 
disobliged  were,  among  others,  the  cardinals  of  St.  Peter  ad 
Vincula,  Colonno,  St.  George,  and  Ascanius.  The  rest,  if  any  of 
them  were  advanced  to  the  papacy,  might  well  be  afraid  of  him, 
except  the  Spanish  cardinals  and  the  cardinal  of  Roan :  the 
Spaniards  by  reason  of  their  obligations  and  alliance ;  and  the 
other,  by  reason  of  his  interest  in  the  kingdom  of  France. 
Wherefore  above  all  things  the  duke  should  have  made  a 
Spanish  cardinal  pope ;  and  if  that  could  not  have  been  done, 
he  should  rather  have  consented  to  the  election  of  Roan  than 
St.  Peter  ad  Vincula ;  for  't  is  weakness  to  believe  that  among 
great  persons  new  obligations  can  obliterate  old  injuries  and  dis- 
gusts. So  that  in  the  election  of  this  Julius  XI,  Duke  Valentine 
committed  an  error  that  was  the  cause  of  his  utter  destruction. 


OF  SUCH  AS  HAVE  "ARRIVED  AT  THEIR  DOMINION  BY  WICKED 
AND  UNJUSTIFIABLE  MEANS 

Now  because  there  are  two  ways  for  a  private  person  to  be- 
come a  prince,  which  ways  are  not  altogether  to  be  attributed 
either  to  fortune  or  management,  I  think  it  not  convenient  to 
pretermit  them,  though  of  one  of  them  I  may  speak  more  largely, 
where  occasion  is  offered  to  treat  more  particularly  of  republics. 
One  of  these  ways  is  when  one  is  advanced  to  the  sovereignty 
by  any  illegal  and  nefarious  means  ;  the  other,  when  a  citizen 
by  the  favor  and  partiality  of  his  fellow-citizens  is  made  prince 
of  his  country.  I  shall  speak  of  the  first  in  this  chapter,  and 
justify  what  I  say  by  two  examples,  one  ancient,  the  other  mod- 
ern, without  entering  farther  into  the  merits  of  the  cause,  as 
judging  them  sufficient  for  any  man  who  is  necessitated  to  follow 
them.  Agathocles  the  Sicilian  not  only  from  a  private  but  from 
a  vile  and  abject  condition  was  made  king  of  Syracuse,  and  be- 
ing but  the  son  of  a  potter,  he  continued  the  dissoluteness  of  his 
life  through  all  the  degrees  of  his  fortune ;  nevertheless  his  vices 
were  accompanied  with  such  courage  and  activity  that  he  applied 
himself  to  the  wars,  by  which,  and  his  great  industry,  he  came 


THE  PRINCE 


775 


at  length  to  be  pretor  of  Syracuse.  Being  settled  in  that  dignity, 
and  having  concluded  to  make  himself  prince,  and  hold  that  by 
violence,  without  obligation  to  anybody,  which  was  conferred 
upon  him  by  consent,  he  settled  an  intelligence  with  Amilcar 
the  Carthaginian,  who  was  then  at  the  head  of  an  army  in  Sicily ; 
and  calling  the  people  and  senate  of  Syracuse  together  one  morn- 
ing, as  if  he  were  about  to  consult  them  in  some  matter  of  impor- 
tance to  the  state,  upon  a  signal  appointed  he  caused  his  soldiers 
to  kill  all  the  senators  and  the  most  wealthy  of  the  people ;  after 
whose  death  he  usurped  and  possessed  the  dominion  of  that  city, 
without  any  obstruction ;  and  though  afterwards  he  lost  two  great 
battles  to  the  Carthaginians,  and  at  length  was  besieged,  yet  he 
was  not  only  able  to  defend  that  city,  but  leaving  part  of  his 
forces  for  the  security  of  that,  with  the  rest  he  transported  into 
Africa,  and  ordered  things  so  that  in  a  short  time  he  relieved 
Syracuse  and  reduced  the  Carthaginians  into  such  extreme  ne- 
cessity that  they  were  glad  to  make  peace  with  him  and,  con- 
tenting themselves  with  Africa,  leave  Sicily  to  Agathocles.  He 
then  who  examines  the  exploits  and  conduct  of  Agathocles  will 
find  little  or  nothing  that  may  be  attributed  to  fortune,  seeing 
he  rose  not  (as  is  said  before)  by  the  favor  of  any  man  but  by 
the  steps  and  gradations  of  war ;  having  gotten  with  a  thousand 
difficulties  and  dangers  that  government  which  he  maintained 
afterwards  with  as  many  noble  achievements.  Nevertheless  it 
cannot  be  called  virtue  in  him  to  kill  his  fellow-citizen's,  betray 
his  friends,  to  be  without  faith,  without  pity  or  religion  ;  these 
are  ways  that  may  get  a  man  empire,  but  no  glory  nor  reputa- 
tion ;  yet  if  the  wisdom  of  Agathocles  be  considered,  his  dexterity 
in  encountering  and  overcoming  of  dangers,  his  courage  in  sup- 
porting and  surmounting  his  misfortunes,  I  do  not  see  why  he 
should  be  held  inferior  to  the  best  captains  of  his  time.  But  his 
unbounded  cruelty  and  barbarous  inhumanity,  added  to  a  million 
of  other  vices,  will  not  permit  that  he  be  numbered  among  the 
most  excellent  men.  So  then  that  which  he  performed  cannot 
justly  be  attributed  to  either  fortune  or  virtue,  for  he  did  all 
himself  without  either  the  one  or  the  other.  In  our  days  under 
the  papacy  of  Alexander  VI,  Oliverotto  de  Fermo,  being  left 


776  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

young  many  years  since  by  his  parents,  was  brought  up  by  his 
uncle  by  the  mother's  side,  called  John  Togliani,  and  in  his 
youth  listed  a  soldier  under  Paulo  Vitelli,  that  having  improved 
himself  by  his  discipline,  he  might  be  capable  of  some  eminent 
command.  Paulo  being  dead,  he  served  under  Vitellezzo,  his 
brother,  and  in  short  time  by  the  acuteness  of  his  parts  and  the 
briskness  of  his  courage  became  one  of  the  best  officers  in  his 
army.  But  thinking  it  beneath  him  to  continue  in  any  man's 
service,  he  conspired  with  some  of  his  fellow-citizens  of  Fermo  (to 
whom  the  servitude  of  their  country  was  more  agreeable  than 
its  liberty)  by  the  help  of  Vitellezzo  to  seize  upon  Fermo ;  in 
order  to  which,  he  writ  a  letter  to  his  uncle,  John  Togliani, 
importing,  that  having  been  absent  many  years,  he  had  some 
thoughts  of  visiting  him  and  Fermo,  and  taking  some  little  diver- 
sion in  the  place  where  he  was  born,  and  because  the  design  of 
his  service  had  been  only  the  gaming  of  honor,  that  his  fellow- 
citizens  might  see  his  time  had  not  been  ill  spent,  he  desired 
admission  for  a  hundred  horse  of  his  friends,  and  his  equipage, 
and  begged  of  him  that  he  would  take  care  they  might  be  hon- 
orably received,  which  would  redound  not  only  to  his  honor  but 
his  uncle's,  who  had  had  the  bringing  him  up.  John  was  not 
wanting  in  any  office  to  his  nephew,  and  having  caused  him  to 
be  nobly  received,  he  lodged  him  in  his  own  house,  where  he 
continued  some  days,  preparing  in  the  meantime  what  was  neces- 
sary to  the  execution  of  his  wicked  design.  He  made  a  great 
entertainment,  to  which  he  invited  John  Togliani  and  all  the 
chief  citizens  in  the  town.  About  the  end  of  the  treatment,  when 
they  were  entertaining  one  another,  as  is  usual  at  such  times, 
Oliverotto  very  subtilely  promoted  certain  grave  discourses  about 
the  greatness  of  Pope  Alexander  and  Caesar,  his  son,  and  of 
their  designs  ;  John  and  the  rest  replying  freely  to  what  was 
said,  Oliverotto  smiled  and  told  them  those  were  points  to  be 
argued  more  privately,  and  thereupon  removing  into  a  chamber, 
his  uncle  and  the  rest  of  his  fellow-citizens  followed ;  they  were 
scarce  sat  down  before  soldiers  (who  were  concealed  about  the 
room)  came  forth,  and  killed  all  of  them,  and  the  uncle  among 
the  rest ;  after  the  murder  was  committed  Oliverotto  mounted 


THE  PRINCE 


777 


on  horseback,  rid  about,  and  rummaged  the  whole  town,  having 
besieged  the  chief  magistrate  in  his  palace ;  so  that,  for  fear,  all 
people  submitted,  and  he  established  a  government  of  which  he 
made  himself  head.  Having  put  such  to  death  as  were  discon- 
tented and  in  any  capacity  of  doing  him  hurt,  he  fortified  himself 
with  new  laws,  both  military  and  civil,  insomuch  as  in  a  year's 
time  he  had  not  only  fixed  himself  in  Fermo  but  was  become 
terrible  to  all  that  were  about  him ;  and  he  would  have  been  as 
hard  as  Agathocles  to  be  supplanted,  had  he  not  suffered  himself 
to  be  circumvented  by  Cesare  Borgia,  when  at  Sinigaglia  (as 
aforesaid)  he  took  the  Orsini  and  Vitelli ;  where  also  he  himself 
was  taken  a  year  after  his  parricide  was  committed,  and  strangled 
with  his  master  Vitellezzo,  from  whom  he  had  learned  all  his 
good  qualities,  and  evil. 

It  may  seem  wonderful  to  some  people  how  it  should  come  to 
pass  that  Agathocles,  and  such  as  he,  after  so  many  treacheries 
and  acts  of  inhumanity,  should  live  quietly  in  their  own  country 
so  long,  defend  themselves  so  well  against  foreign  enemies,  and 
none  of  their  subjects  conspire  against  them  at  home,  seeing  sev- 
eral others  by  reason  of  their  cruelty  have  not  been  able,  even  in 
times  of  peace  as  well  as  war,  to  defend  their  government.  I  con- 
ceive it  fell  out  according  as  their  cruelty  was  well  or  ill  applied  ; 
I  say  well  applied  (if  that  word  may  be  added  to  an  ill  action), 
and  it  may  be  called  so  when  committed  but  once  and  that  of 
necessity  for  one's  own  preservation,  but  never  repeated  after- 
wards, and  even  then  converted  as  much  as  possible  to  the  bene- 
fit of  the  subject.  Ill  applied  are  such  cruelties  as  are  but  few 
in  the  beginning,  but  in  time  do  rather  multiply  than  decrease. 
Those  who  are  guilty  of  the  first  do  receive  assistance  sometimes 
both  from  God  and  man,  and  Agathocles  is  an  instance.  But  the 
others  cannot  possibly  subsist  long :  from  whence  it  is  to  be 
observed  that  he  who  usurps  the  government  of  any  state  is  to 
execute  and  put  in  practice  all  the  cruelties  which  he  thinks 
material  at  once,  that  he  may  have  no  occasion  to  renew  them 
often,  but  that  by  his  discontinuance  he  may  mollify  the  people 
and  by  his  benefits  bring  them  over  to  his  side  ;  he  who  does 
otherwise,  whether  for  fear  or  ill  counsel,  is  obliged  to  be  always 


778  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

ready  with  his  knife  in  his  hand,  for  he  can  never  repose  any 
confidence  in  his  subjects,  whilst  they,  by  reason  of  his  fresh  and 
continued  inhumanities,  cannot  be  secure  against  him  ;  so  then 
injuries  are  to  be  committed  all  at  once,  that  the  last  being  the 
less,  the  distaste  may  be  likewise  the  less  ;  but  benefits  should 
be  distilled  by  drops,  that  the  relish  may  be  the  greater.  Above 
all,  a  prince  is  to  so  behave  himself  towards  his  subjects  that 
neither  good  fortune  or  bad  should  be  able  to  alter  him,  for  being 
once  assaulted  with  adversity  you  have  no  time  to  do  mischief, 
and  the  good  which  you  do  does  you  no  good,  being  looked  upon 
as  forced,  and  so  no  thanks  to  be  due  for  it. 


OF  CIVIL  PRINCIPALITY 

I  shall  speak  now  of  the  other  way,  when  a  principal  citizen, 
not  by  wicked  contrivance  or  intolerable  violence,  is  made  sov- 
ereign of  his  country,  which  may  be  called  a  civil  principality, 
and  is  not  to  be  attained  by  either  virtue  or  fortune  alone  but 
by  a  lucky  sort  of  craft ;  this  man,  I  say,  arrives  at  the  govern- 
ment by  the  favor  of  the  people  or  nobility ;  for  in  all  cities  the 
meaner  and  the  better  sort  of  citizens  are  of  different  humors, 
and  it  proceeds  from  hence  that  the  common  people  are  not  will- 
ing to  be  commanded  and  oppressed  by  the  great  ones,  and  the 
great  ones  are  not  to  be  satisfied  without  it;  from  this  diversity 
of  appetite  one  of  these  three  effects  do  arise,  —  principality,  lib- 
erty, or  licentiousness.  Principality  is  caused  either  by  the  people 
or  the  great  ones,  as  either  the  one  or  the  other  has  occasion : 
the  great  ones,  finding  themselves  unable  to  resist  the  popular 
torrent,  do  many  times  unanimously  confer  their  whole  authority 
upon  one  person,  and  create  him  prince,  that  under  his  protec- 
tion they  may  be  quiet  and  secure.  The  people,  on  the  other 
side,  when  overpowered  by  their  adversaries,  do  the  same  thing, 
transmitting  their  power  to  a  single  person,  who  is  made  king 
for  their  better  defense.  He  who  arrives  at  the  sovereignty  by 
the  assistance  of  the  great  ones  preserves  it  with  more  difficulty 
than  he  who  is  advanced  by  the  people,  because  he  has  about 


THE  PRINCE  779 

him  many  of  his  old  associates,  who,  thinking  themselves  his 
equals,  are  not  to  be  directed  and  managed  as  he  would  have 
them.  But  he  that  is  preferred  by  the  people  stands  alone 
without  equals,  and  has  nobody,  or  very  few  about  him,  but 
what  are  ready  to  obey:  moreover,  the  grandees  are  hardly  to 
be  satisfied  without  injury  to  others,  which  is  otherwise  with 
the  people,  because  their  designs  are  more  reasonable  than  the 
designs  of  the  great  ones  which  are  fixed  upon  commanding 
and  oppressing  altogether,  whilst  the  people  endeavor  only  to 
defend  and  secure  themselves.  Moreover,  where  the  people  is 
adverse,  the  prince  can  never  be  safe,  by  reason  of  their  num- 
bers ;  whereas  the  great  ones  are  but  few,  and  by  consequence 
not  so  dangerous.  The  worst  that  a  prince  can  expect  from  an 
injured  and  incensed  people  is  to  be  deserted,  but  if  the  great 
ones  be  provoked,  he  is  not  only  to  fear  abandoning  but  con- 
spiracy, and  bandying  against  him ;  for  the  greater  sort  being 
more  provident  and  cunning,  they  look  out  in  time  to  their  own 
safety,  and  make  their  interest  with  the  person  who  they  hope 
will  overcome.  Besides,  the  prince  is  obliged  to  live  always  with 
one  and  the  same  people,  but  with  the  grandees  he  is  under 
no  such  obligation,  for  he  may  create  and  degrade,  advance  ;md 
remove  them  as  he  pleases.  But  for  the  better  explication  of 
this  part,  I  say  that  these  great  men  are  to  be  considered  two 
ways  especially ;  that  is,  whether  in  the  manner  of  their  admin- 
istration they  do  wholly  follow  the  fortune  and  interest  of  the 
prince,  or  whether  they  do  otherwise.  Those  who  devote  them- 
selves entirely  to  his  business,  and  are  not  rapacious,  are  to  be 
valued  and  preferred.  Those  who  are  more  remiss,  and  will  not 
stick  to  their  prince,  do  it  commonly  upon  two  motives,  either 
out  of  laziness  or  fear  (and  in  those  cases  they  may  be  employed, 
especially  if  they  be  wise  and  of  good  counsel,  because  if  affairs 
prosper,  thou  gainest  honor  thereby  ;  if  they  miscarry,  thou 
needest  not  to  fear  them)  or  upon  ambition  and  design,  and 
that  is  a  token  that  their  thoughts  are  more  intent  upon  their 
own  advantage  than  thine.  Of  these  a  prince  ought  always  to 
have  a  more  than  ordinary  care,  and  order  them  as  if  they  were 
enemies  professed,  for  in  his  distress  they  will  be  sure  to  set 


780  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

him  forwards,  and  do  what  they  can  to  destroy  him.  He  there- 
fore who  comes  to  be  prince  by  the  favor  and  suffrage  of  the 
people  is  obliged  to  keep  them  his  friends,  which  (their  desire 
being  nothing  but  freedom  from  oppression)  may  be  easily  done. 
But  he  that  is  preferred  by  the  interest  of  the  nobles  against 
the  minds  of  the  commons  is,  above  all  things,  to  endeavor  to  in- 
gratiate with  the  people,  which  will  be  as  the  other,  if  he  under- 
takes their  protection ;  and  men  receiving  good  offices,  where 
they  expected  ill,  are  endeared  by  the  surprise,  and  become 
better  affected  to  their  benefactor  than  perhaps  they  would 
have  been  had  he  been  made  prince  by  their  immediate  favor. 
There  are  many  ways  of  insinuating  with  the  people,  of  which 
no  certain  rule  can  be  given,  because  they  vary  according  to 
the  diversity  of  the  subject,  and  therefore  I  shall  pass  them  at 
this  time,  concluding  with  this  assertion,  that  it  is  necessary, 
above  all  things,  that  a  prince  preserve  the  affections  of  his 
people,  otherwise  in  any  exigence  he  has  no  refuge  nor  remedy. 
Nabides,  prince  of  the  Spartans,  sustained  all  Greece,  and  a  vic- 
torious army  of  the  Romans,  and  defended  his  government  and 
country  against  them  all ;  and  to  do  that  great  action  it  was 
sufficient  for  him  to  secure  himself  against  the  machinations  of 
a  few,  whereas  if  the  people  had  been  his  enemy,  that  would  not 
have  done  it.  Let  no  man  impugn  my  opinion  with  that  old 
saying,  He  thai  builds  upon  the  people  builds  upon  the  sand. 
That  is  true,  indeed,  when  a  citizen  of  private  condition  relies 
upon  the  people,  and  persuades  himself  that  when  the  magis- 
trate, or  his  adversary,  goes  about  to  oppress  him  they  will 
bring  him  off,  in  which  case  many  precedents  may  be  produced, 
and  particularly  the  Gracchi  in  Rome,  and  Georgio  Scali  in 
Florence.  But  if  the  prince  that  builds  upon  them  knows  how 
to  command,  and  be  a  man  of  courage,  not  dejected  in  adversity 
nor  deficient  in  his  other  preparations,  but  keeps  up  the  spirits 
of  his  people  by  his  own  valor  and  conduct,  he  shall  never  be 
deserted  by  them,  nor  find  his  foundation  laid  in  a  wrong  place. 
These  kinds  of  governments  are  most  tottering  and  uncertain 
when  the  prince  strains  of  a  sudden,  and  passes  (as  at  one  leap) 
from  a  civil  to  an  absolute  power,  and  the  reason  is  because  they 


THE  PRINCE  781 

either  command  and  act  by  themselves,  or  by  the  ministry  and 
mediation  of  the  magistrate.  In  this  last  case  their  authority 
is  weaker  and  more  ticklish,  because  it  depends  much  upon  the 
pleasure  and  concurrence  of  the  chief  officers,  who  (in  time  of 
adversity  especially)  can  remove  them  easily,  either  by  neglecting 
or  resisting  their  commands.  Nor  is  there  any  way  for  such  a 
prince  in  the  perplexity  of  his  affairs  to  establish  a  tyranny,  because 
those  citizens  and  subjects  who  used  to  exercise  the  magistracy 
retain  still  such  power  and  influence  upon  the  people  that  they 
will  not  infringe  their  laws  to  obey  his ;  and  in  time  of  danger  he 
shall  always  want  such  as  he  can  trust.  So  that  a  prince  is  not 
to  take  his  measures  according  to  what  he  sees  in  times  of 
peace,  when  of  the  subjects  (having  nothing  to  do  but  to  be 
governed)  every  one  runs,  every  one  promises,  and  every  one 
dies  for  him,  when  death  is  at  a  distance ;  but  when  times  are 
tempestuous,  and  the  ship  of  the  state  has  need  of  the  help  and 
assistance  of  the  subject,  there  are  but  few  will  expose  them- 
selves ;  and  this  experiment  is  the  more  dangerous  because  it 
can  be  practiced  but  once  ;  so  then  a  prince  who  is  provident 
and  wise  ought  to  carry  himself  so  that  in  all  places,  times,  and 
occasions  the  people  may  have  need  of  his  administration  and 
regiment,  and  ever  after  they  shall  be  faithful  and  true. 


XXXV 

THE  BOSS1 

Or  TKE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  A  PRINCE  AND  AN  ELECTED 

RULER 

An  hereditary  prince  differs  altogethei  in  outward  appear- 
ance and  conduct  from  the  chosen  ruler  of  a  municipality;  for  a 
prince  is  looked  upon  by  some  of  his  subjects  as  ruling  by  the 
grace  of  God,  and  as  being  by  nature  higher  than  other  men, 
and  by  most  of  the  rest  as  ruling  by  a  prescriptive  title  which 
it  is  more  mischievous  to  dispute  than  to  accept.  Therefore  it 
is  tine,  as  BJackstone  says,  that  the  law  ascribes  to  the  prince 
not  only  large  powers  and  emoluments  but  likewise  certain 
attributes  of  a  great  and  transcendent  nature,  by  which  the 
people  are  led  to  consider  him  in  the  light  of  a  superior  being, 
arid  to  pay  him  that  awful  respect  which  may  enable  him  with 
greater  ease  to  carry  on  the  business  of  government. 

Hence  a  prince  may  do  many  things,  both  evil  and  good, 
that  other  men  may  not.  Thus  it  is  expected  of  him  that  he 
shall  be  magnificent  in  his  display  of  wealth,  and  he  may  there- 
fore exact  more  from  his  subjects  if  he  is  lavish  than  if  he  is 
penurious ;  for  they  think  his  splendor  is  in  some  way  their 
own,  and  take  pride  in  it.  And  if  no  extraordinary  vices  render 
him  odious,  as  Machiavelli  says,  he  may  indulge  his  desires  as 
he  will,  and  yet  engross  the  inclination  and  regard  of  his  sub- 
jects. Thus  in  France,  Louis  XIV  caused  the  greatest  misery 
to  his  people  by  his  extravagance  and  aggressive  wars,  yet  he 
was  not  only  tolerated  but  admired  by  them  for  the  glory  he 
brought  to  the  nation ;  and  Henry  IV,  who  seldom  denied  him- 
self any  pleasure,  or  refrained  from  the  common  vices  of  men, 
is  the  best  beloved  of  all  the  rulers  of  that  state.  So  we  read, 

1  From  The  Boss,  by  "  Henry  Champemowne,"  chaps,  iii,  iv,  v  (copyright,  1899, 
by  Geo.  H.  Richmond  &  Co.,  New  York). 

782 


THE  BOSS  783 

in  one  of  the  tales  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  of  certain  virtuous 
maiden  ladies  who  not  only  harbored  the  Pretender,  Charles 
Stuart,  at  the  peril  of  their  lives,  because  they  thought  him 
their  lawful  prince,  but  also  gave  shelter  to  his  harlot,  although 
ordinarily  they  had  as  lief  sinned  themselves  as  come  near  her. 
But  in  the  constitution  of  the  modern  city  no  man  is  regarded 
as  superior  by  nature  or  by  birth  or  by  position  to  the  rest,  but 
all  are  equal.  The  rulers  that  are  chosen  are  looked  upon  by 
the  people  less  as  their  superiors  than  as  their  servants,  and 
they  are  fond  of  deposing  such  rulers  frequently,  in  order  that 
they  may  show  their  power.  These  rulers  have  in  the  view  of 
the  law  no  attributes  of  a  great  and  transcendent  nature,  they 
do  not  dare  to  exhibit  great  wealth  or  magnificence  for  fear  of 
the  jealousy  of  their  fellow-citizens,  and  the  latter  will  not  per- 
mit their  rulers  to  indulge  even  in  those  vices  which  they  prac- 
tice themselves  without  making  complaints  of  their  offended 
virtue.  Hence  it  is  not  desirable  for  any  man  of  ambition  to  be 
a  chosen  ruler,  at  least  for  a  long  time.  For  if  he  endeavor  to 
rule  in  reality  as  well  as  in  appearance  he  is  at  once  hated  and 
put  in  peril  of  the  law,  and  another  is  presently  chosen  in  his 
place  ;  and  if  he  does  not  try  to  rule  in  reality,  he  can  do  noth- 
ing but  carry  out  laws  made  by  others  for  the  very  purpose  of 
hindering  him  and  restraining  his  action.  In  such  a  career  no 
man  of  ambition  can  take  delight.  But  ambitious  men,  when 
not  born  to  the  rule  of  principalities,  have  always  desired  to 
make  themselves  princes,  seeing  that  the  hereditary  prince  who 
rules  in  reality  may  do  whatever  he  desires,  and  be  at  the  same 
time  beloved,  or  not  detested,  —  such  men  not  considering  how 
great  is  the  importance  of  age  to  a  dynasty.  On  the  other  hand, 
princes  that  have  not  been  ambitious  have  often  been  over- 
thrown and  supplanted. 

OF  THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  AN  HEREDITARY  PRINCE 
AND  A  Boss 

From  what  has  been  said  it  is  evident  that  there  is  little  like- 
ness between  an  hereditary  prince  and  a  boss  ;  for  it  is  the 
peculiarity  of  the  rule  of  a  boss  that  it  is  neither  recognized  by 


784  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

the  laws  nor  openly  admitted  to  exist  even  by  the  boss  himself. 
So  that  it  is  absurd  to  speak  of  a  boss  as  being  a  ruler  by 
nature  higher  than  other  men,  seeing  that  he  does  not  proclaim 
himself  to  be  a  ruler  at  all.  Upon  this  account  he  can  make 
no  display  of  a  retinue  or  any  of  the  magnificence  of  a  prince, 
having  no  subjects,  and  being  the  apparent  head  of  no  princi- 
pality. The  law  ascribes  to  him  neither  large  powers  and  emol- 
uments nor  any  attributes  of  a  great  and  transcendent  nature. 
Therefore  he  cannot  take  the  first  place  at  banquets  or  balls  or 
entertainments  given  to  distinguished  persons  that  visit  his  city  ; 
for  why  should  he  ?  He  is  not  the  elected  ruler  of  the  city,  and 
he  does  not  let  it  be  declared  that  he  is  the  real  ruler.  He  has 
no  title  and  represents  no  trade  or  profession.  Therefore  he 
must  be  content  to  let  others  take  the  places  of  honor  at  all 
public  feasts,  and  this  he  can  do  because  he  knows  that  the 
power  is  his ;  for  he  is  really  the  first  who  determines  who  shall 
be  apparently  the  first. 

As  he  can  make  no  display  as  a  ruler,  he  must  beware  of 
ostentation  as  a  private  man.  The  reason  of  this  is  that  the 
peculiar  danger  of  a  boss  is  envy ;  and  if  he  build  himself  a 
palace,  and  have  many  servants  wearing  livery,  and  display  a 
coat  of  arms,  and  seem  to  spend  great  sums  of  money  in  osten- 
tation, he  immediately  arouses  the  envy  of  those  who  think  they 
have  raised  him  to  power  by  their  efforts.  They  consider  that 
he  is  in  nothing  superior  to  them  except  in  good  fortune,  and 
that  they  are  equally  entitled  with  him  to  share  in  the  revenues 
which  he  collects ;  and  they  are  therefore  always  ready  to  plot 
against  him  if  they  think  they  can  succeed.  Therefore,  while 
the  magnificence  of  a  prince  delights  the  subjects,  the  luxury  of 
a  boss  makes  them  discontented  and  angry  ;  and  this  is  especially 
true  of  those  who  are  his  followers.  They  do  not,  like  the 
retainers  of  an  hereditary  prince,  think  that  his  magnificence 
reflects  glory  upon  them  ;  rather  do  they  look  upon  it  as  plun- 
der which  the  whole  army  has  earned  but  which  the  general  has 
kept  for  himself.  But  from  the  time  of  Achilles  and  Agamem- 
non to  this  day  there  has  always  been  danger  to  generals  from 
the  division  of  the  spoils.  A  wise  boss  will,  then,  make  little 
display  of  wealth,  more  especially  because  it  is  in  his  power 


THE  BOSS  785 

to  accumulate  and  possess  it  secretly ;  and  he  will  attend  to 
Aristotle's  warning,  that  the  haughtiness  of  women  has  been 
the  ruin  of  many  tyrannies.  He  will  therefore  not  permit  the 
women  of  his  family  to  treat  others  haughtily  or  to  insist  upon 
precedence  at  feasts  and  tournaments,  or  balls  as  they  are  called, 
given  to  princes  and  other  distinguished  guests  of  the  city.  It 
is  better  for  him  to  deal  with  rebellion  in  his  own  house  rather 
than  to  allow  the  arrogance  of  his  women  to  stir  it  up  outside ; 
and  he  who  cannot  hold  the  women  of  his  family  in  subjection 
is  not  fit  to  be  the  ruler  over  a  city.  Let  the  boss  therefore 
grasp  the  substance  and  disregard  the  shadow ;  since  he  is  not 
the  apparent  ruler,  but  the  real  ruler,  let  him  also  be  content  to 
be  really  supreme  in  power  without  appearing  so. 

OF  THE  LIKENESS  BETWEEN  THE  NEW  PRINCE  AND 
THE  Boss 

Machiavelli  writes  of  many  things  that  do  not  greatly  concern 
a  boss.  Thus  he  speaks  of  mixed  principalities,  or  such  as 
are  annexed  as  appendages  to  another  sovereignty,  but  it  sel- 
dom happens  in  this  country  that  one  great  city  is  annexed  to 
another ;  although  were  the  city  of  Brooklyn  to  be  annexed  to 
the  city  of  New  York  that  boss  would  be  guilty  of  a  capital 
error  who  failed  to  observe  what  Machiavelli  lays  down  upon 
this  point.  But,  for  the  present  at  least,  I  will  not  consider  it. 
Machiavelli  further  discourses  of  those  who  from  a  private  station 
have  ascended  to  the  dignity  of  princes  by  the  favor  of  fortune 
alone ;  but  were  it  possible  for  any  man  to  attain  the  position 
of  a  boss  in  this  way  he  would  be  at  once  overthrown,  for  the 
difficulty  of  this  form  of  government  is  so  great  that  no  good 
fortune  could  sustain  a  boss  who  had  no  talent.  As  Machiavelli 
says,  even  if  such  men  meet  with  few  difficulties  in  their  prog- 
ress, they  encounter  many  in  maintaining  their  sovereignty. 

Such  were  the  Roman  emperors  who  from  a  private  station 
attained  to  the  empire  by  corrupting  the  soldiery,  for  they  were 
supported  only  by  the  pleasure  and  fortune  of  those  who  advanced 
them,  —  two  foundations  equally  uncertain  and  insecure.  They 
had  neither  the  experience  nor  the  power  necessary  to  maintain 


786  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

their  position.  Unless  men  possess  superior  genius  or  courage, 
how  can  those  who  have  themselves  always  been  accustomed  to  a 
private  station  know  in  what  manner  to  govern  others  ?  Deficient 
in  knowledge,  they  will  be  equally  destitute  of  power,  for  want  of 
supporters  on  whose  attachment  and  fidelity  they  can  depend. 
Such  dominion,  like  other  things  in  nature  of  premature  and 
rapid  growth,  does  not  take  sufficient  root  in  the  minds  of  men, 
but  must  fall  with  the  first  stroke  of  adversity;  unless,  indeed, 
the  ruler  so  unexpectedly  exalted  possess  such  superior  talents 
that  he  can  discover  at  once  the  means  of  preserving  his  good 
fortune,  and  afterward  maintain  it  by  having  recourse  to  the  same 
measures  which  others  had  adopted  before  him.  But  it  is  better 
to  leave  fortune  out  of  account,  for  a  boss  must  not  think  that 
fortune  will  favor  him,  else  he  will  neglect  necessary  precautions  ; 
neither  should  he  believe  that  fortune  is  against  him,  for  no  great 
success  in  ruling  is  likely  to  be  attained  by  him  who  expects  to  fail. 

Neither  need  we  at  this  time  consider  what  Machiavelli  says 
of  him  who  by  foreign  arms  acquires  sovereignty ;  for  the  force 
employed  by  a  boss  is  not  an  armed  force,  and  since  his  rule  is 
secret  it  is  not  easy  to  call  in  forces  from  outside,  because  they 
must  act  openly.  Nevertheless  it  is  not  prudent  for  a  boss  to 
neglect  anything  that  Machiavelli  has  written,  as  appeared  lately 
from  the  example  of  Boss  Billy  Sheehan  of  Buffalo,  who,  instead  of 
ruling  by  means  of  his  own  followers  there,  thought  to  strengthen 
himself  by  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  legislature  and  the  governor  of 
the  state,  by  which  means  he  involved  himself  in  complete  ruin. 

But  when  Machiavelli  comes  to  speak  of  private  persons  who 
have  attained  sovereignty  without  any  special  aid  from  fortune, 
whom  he  calls  new  princes,  he  lays  down  rules  which  are  as 
important  for  the  boss  of  this  day  as  for  the  prince  of  the  time 
when  he  wrote ;  for  he  observes,  in  his  chapter  entitled  "  Of 
Those  who  have  obtained  Sovereignty  by  their  Crimes,"  that 
they  are  indebted  neither  to  fortune  nor  to  virtue.  Thus  Agath- 
ocles  of  Syracuse  was  of  the  lowest  class,  the  son  of  a  potter,  of 
dissolute  and  wicked  conduct  in  every  relation  of  life  ;  but  he  had 
such  infinite  ability  and  so  much  courage,  as  well  as  strength  of 
mind  and  body,  that  after  he  had  risen  to  be  pretor  he  was  able 


THE  BOSS  787 

to  hold  by  violence  what  had  been  granted  to  him  by  the  public 
voice.  This  was  not  owing  to  favor,  but  to  his  own  genius  ;  still, 
as  Machiavelli  says,  it  must  not  be  called  virtue  to  murder  one's 
fellow-citizens,  and  to  sacrifice  one's  friends,  and  to  be  insensible 
to  the  voice  of  faith,  pity,  or  religion.  But  Oliverotto  da  Fermo 
deserves  not  to  be  put  on  an  equality  with  Agathocles  by 
Machiavelli,  for  he  suffered  himself  to  be  deceived  by  Borgia, 
and  was  strangled  before  his  rule  had  lasted  two  years ;  but 
Agathocles  never  trusted  any  one  and  thus  was  never  betrayed. 
But  after  a  boss  has  attained  sovereignty  he  cannot  continue  to 
commit  crimes  of  violence ;  and  it  is  doubtful  if  it  is  not  wiser 
to  avoid  them,  so  far  as  possible,  when  he  is  struggling  to  attain 
it,  so  much  milder  are  our  manners  than  those  of  our  ancestors. 
However,  many  of  our  bosses  have  risen  to  power  in  this  way. 

Machiavelli  further  observes,  in  his  chapter  upon  "  Civil  Prin- 
cipalities," that  a  private  individual  may  attain  power  by  the 
favor  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  without  either  violence  or  treason. 
Such  a  sovereignty,  he  says,  is  not  to  be  acquired  either  by  merit 
or  fortune  alone,  but  by  a  lucky  sort  of  craft.  And  he  elsewhere 
says  that  it  very  rarely  happens,  or  perhaps  never  occurs,  that  a 
person  exalts  himself  from  a  humble  station  to  great  power  with- 
out employing  either  force  or  fraud,  unless  he  attains  it  by  gift 
or  hereditary  succession.  Again,  he  says  that  there  is  no  instance 
on  record  of  a  man  who  from  an  obscure  station  arrived  at  great 
power  by  the  single  means  of  open  and  avowed  force,  although 
he  has  seen  others  succeed  by  cunning  alone. 

Moreover,  he  shows  that  Xenophon,  in  his  Life  of  Cyrus,  de- 
duced the  inference  that  a  prince  who  would  make  himself  great 
must  learn  the  art  of  deceiving.  So  it  was  with  the  Romans, 
for  they  had  recourse  from  the  very  beginning  to  treachery  and 
bad  faith ;  and  Machiavelli  says  this  is  always  necessary  for  those 
who  desire  to  establish  their  dominion  over  others.  From  all 
this  it  appears  plain  to  me  that  the  rules  for  the  conduct  of  a 
boss  are  very  nearly  the  same  as  those  for  the  conduct  of  him 
whom  Machiavelli  calls  the  new  prince  ;  and,  indeed,  whoever 
reads  his  discourse  will  see  that  if  he  had  addressed  a  boss  he 
would  for  the  most  part  not  have  written  otherwise. 


XXXVI 

OF  THE  LIMITS  TO  THE  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY 
OVER  THE  INDIVIDUAL1 

What,  then,  is  the  rightful  limit  to  the  sovereignty  of  the 
individual  over  himself  ?  Where  does  the  authority  of  society 
begin  ?  How  much  of  human  life  should  be  assigned  to  indi- 
viduality, and  how  much  to  society  ? 

Each  will  receive  its  proper  share,  if  each  has  that  which 
more  particularly  concerns  it.  To  individuality  should  belong 
the  part  of  life  in  which  it  is  chiefly  the  individual  that  is  inter- 
ested ;  to  society,  the  part  which  chiefly  interests  society. 

Though  society  is  not  founded  on  a  contract,  and  though  no 
good  purpose  is  answered  by  inventing  a  contract  in  order  to 
deduce  social  obligations  from  it,  every  one  who  receives  the 
protection  of  society  owes  a  return  for  the  benefit,  and  the 
fact  of  living  in  society  renders  it  indispensable  that  each  should 
be  bound  to  observe  a  certain  line  of  conduct  towards  the  rest. 
This  conduct  consists,  first,  in  not  injuring  the  interests  of  one 
another;  or  rather  certain  interests,  which,  either  by  express 
legal  provision  or  by  tacit  understanding,  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered as  rights ;  and  secondly,  in  each  person's  bearing  his 
share  (to  be  fixed  on  some  equitable  principle)  of  the  labors 
and  sacrifices  incurred  for  defending  the  society  or  its  members 
from  injury  and  molestation.  These  conditions  society  is  justi- 
fied in  enforcing,  at  all  costs  to  those  who  endeavor  to  withhold 
fulfillment.  Nor  is  this  all  that  society  may  do.  The  acts  of  an 
individual  may  be  hurtful  to  others,  or  wanting  in  due  consid- 
eration for  their  welfare",  without  going  the  length  of  violating 
any  of  their  constituted  rights.  The  offender  may  then  be  justly 
punished  by  opinion  though  not  by  law.  As  soon  as  any  part  of 
a  person's  conduct  affects  prejudicially  the  interests  of  others, 

1  From  the  essay  on  Liberty,  by  John  Stuart  Mill,  chap,  iv,  pp.  133-165. 

788 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         789 

society  has  jurisdiction  over  it,  and  the  question  whether  the 
general  welfare  will  or  will  not  be  promoted  by  interfering  with 
it  becomes  open  to  discussion.  But  there  is  no  room  for  enter- 
taining any  such  question  when  a  person's  conduct  affects  the 
interests  of  no  persons  besides  himself,  or  needs  not  affect  them 
unless  they  like  (all  the  persons  concerned  being  of  full  age  and 
the  ordinary  amount  of  understanding).  In  all  such  cases  there 
should  be  perfect  freedom,  legal  and  social,  to  do  the  action  and 
stand  the  consequences. 

It  would  be  a  great  misunderstanding  of  this  doctrine  to  sup- 
pose that  it  is  one  of  selfish  indifference,  which  pretends  that 
human  beings  have  no  business  with  each  other's  conduct  in  life, 
and  that  they  should  not  concern  themselves  about  the  well- 
doing or  well-being  of  one  another,  unless  their  own  interest 
is  involved.  Instead  of  any  diminution  there  is  need  of  a  great 
increase  of  disinterested  exertion  to  promote  the  good  of  others. 
But  disinterested  benevolence  can  find  other  instruments  to  per- 
suade people  to  their  good  than  whips  and  scourges,  either 
of  the  literal  or  the  metaphorical  sort.  I  am  the  last  person 
to  undervalue  the  self -regarding  virtues ;  they  are  only  second 
in  importance,  if  even  second,  to  the  social.  It  is  equally  the 
business  of  education  to  cultivate  both.  But  even  education 
works  by  conviction  and  persuasion  as  well  as  by  compulsion, 
and  it  is  by  the  former  only  that,  when  the  period  of  education 
is  past,  the  self-regarding  virtues  should  be  inculcated.  Human 
beings  owe  to  each  other  help  to  distinguish  the  better  from  the 
worse,  and  encouragement  to  choose  the  former  and  avoid  the 
latter.  They  should  be  forever  stimulating  each  other  to  increased 
exercise  of  their  higher  faculties,  and  increased  direction  of  their 
feelings  and  aims  towards  wise  instead  of  foolish,  elevating 
instead  of  degrading,  objects  and  contemplations.  But  neither 
one  person  nor  any  number  of  persons  is  warranted  in  saying 
to  another  human  creature  of  ripe  years  that  he  shall  not  do 
with  his  life  for  his  own  benefit  what  he  chooses  to  do  with  it. 
He  is  the  person  most  interested  in  his  own  well-being ;  the 
interest  which  any  other  person,  except  in  cases  of  strong  per- 
sonal attachment  can  have  in  it  is  trifling  compared  with  that 


790 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


which  he  himself  has ;  the  interest  which  society  has  in  him 
individually  (except  as  to  his  conduct  to  others)  is  fractional, 
and  altogether  indirect ;  while,  with  respect  to  his  own  feelings 
and  circumstances,  the  most  ordinary  man  or  woman  has  means 
of  knowledge  immeasurably  surpassing  those  that  can  be  pos- 
sessed by  any  one  else.  The  interference  of  society  to  overrule 
his  judgment  and  purposes  in  what  only  regards  himself  must 
be  grounded  on  general  presumptions,  which  may  be  altogether 
wrong,  and  even  if  right  are  as  likely  as  not  to  be  misapplied 
to  individual  cases,  by  persons  no  better  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances  of  such  cases  than  those  are  who  look  at  them 
merely  from  without.  In  this  department,  therefore,  of  human 
affairs,  individuality  has  its  proper  field  of  action.  In  the  con- 
duct of  human  beings  towards  one  another,  it  is  necessary  that 
general  rules  should  for  the  most  part  be  observed,  in  order  that 
people  may  know  what  they  have  to  expect ;  but  in  each  per- 
son's own  concerns,  his  individual  spontaneity  is  entitled  to  free 
exercise.  Considerations  to  aid  his  judgment,  exhortations  to 
strengthen  his  will,  may  be  offered  to  him,  even  obtruded  on 
him,  by  others ;  but  he  himself  is  the  final  judge.  All  errors 
which  he  is  likely  to  commit  against  advice  and  warning  are 
far  outweighed  by  the  evil  of  allowing  others  to  constrain  him 
to  what  they  deem  his  good.  -. 

I  do  not  mean  that  the  feelings  with  which  a  person  is  re- 
garded by  others  ought  not  to  be  in  any  way  affected  by  his 
self-regarding  qualities  or  deficiencies.  This  is  neither  possible 
nor  desirable.  If  he  is  eminent  in  any  of  the  qualities  which 
conduce  to  his  own  good,  he  is,  so  far,  a  proper  object  of  admira- 
tion. He  is  so  much  the  nearer  to  the  ideal  perfection  of  human 
nature.  If  he  is  grossly  deficient  in  those  qualities,  a  sentiment 
the  opposite  of  admiration  will  follow.  There  is  a  degree  of 
folly,  and  a  degree  of  what  may  be  called  (though  the  phrase 
is  not  unobjectionable)  lowness  or  depravation  of  taste,  which, 
though  it  cannot  justify  doing  harm  to  the  person  who  manifests 
it,  renders  him  necessarily  and  properly  an  object  of  distaste, 
or,  in  extreme  cases,  even  of  contempt ;  a  person  could  not 
have  the  opposite  qualities  in  due  strength  without  entertaining 
these  feelings.  Though  doing  no  wrong  to  any  one,  a  person 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         791 

may  so  act  as  to  compel  us  to  judge  him  and  feel  him  to  be 
a  fool,  or  as  a  being  of  an  inferior  order ;  and  since  this  judg- 
ment and  feeling  are  a  fact  which  he  would  prefer  to  avoid,  it 
is  doing  him  a  service  to  warn  him  of  it  beforehand,  as  of  any 
other  disagreeable  consequence  to  which  he  exposes  himself. 
It  would  be  well,  indeed,  if  this  good  office  were  much  more 
freely  rendered  than  the  common  notions  of  politeness  at  present 
permit,  and  if  one  person  could  honestly  point  out  to  another 
that  he  thinks  him  in  fault,  without  being  considered  unman- 
nerly or  presuming.  We  have  a  right,  also,  in  various  ways,  to 
act  upon  our  unfavorable  opinion  of  any  one,  not  to  the  oppres- 
sion of  his  individuality,  but  in  the  exercise  of  ours.  We  are 
not  bound,  for  example,  to  seek  his  society;  we  have  a  right 
to  avoid  it  (though  not  to  parade  the  avoidance),  for  we  have 
a  right  to  choose  the  society  most  acceptable  to  us.  We  have  a 
right,  and  it  may  be  our  duty,  to  caution,  others  against  him,  if 
we  think  his  example  or  conversation  likely  to  have  a  pernicious 
effect  on  those  with  whom  he  associates.  We  may  give  others 
a  preference  over  him  in  optional  good  offices,  except  those 
which  tend  to  his  improvement.  In  these  various  modes  a  per- 
son may  suffer  very  severe  penalties  at  the  hands  of  others,  for 
faults  which  directly  concern  only  himself ;  but  he  suffers  these 
penalties  only  in  so  far  as  they  are  the  natural  and,  as  it  were, 
the  spontaneous  consequences  of  the  faults  themselves,  not  be- . 
cause  they  are  purposely  inflicted  on  him  for  the  sake  of  punish- 
ment. A  person  who  shows  rashness,  obstinacy,  self-conceit 
—  who  cannot  live  within  moderate  means  —  who  cannot  restrain 
himself  from  hurtful  indulgences  —  who  pursues  animal  pleas- 
ures at  the  expense  of  those  of  feeling  and  intellect  —  must 
expect  to  be  lowered  in  the  opinion  of  others,  and  to  have  a 
small  share  of  their  favorable  sentiments,  but  of  this  he  has  no 
right  to  complain,  unless  he  has  merited  their  favor  by  special 
excellence  in  his  social  relations,  and  has  thus  established  a 
title  to  their  good  offices,  which  is  not  affected  by  his  demerits 
towards  himself. 

What  I  contend  for  is,  that  the  inconveniences  which  are 
strictly  inseparable  from  the  unfavorable  judgment  of  others 
are  the  only  ones  to  which  a  person  should  ever  be  subjected 


792  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

for  that  portion  of  his  conduct  and  character  which  concerns 
his  own  good,  but  which  does  not  affect  the  interests  of  others 
in  their  relations  with  him.  Acts  injurious  to  others  require 
a  totally  different  treatment.  Encroachment  on  their  rights ; 
infliction  on  them  of  any  loss  or  damage  not  justified  by  his  own 
rights ;  falsehood  or  duplicity  in  dealing  with  them ;  unfair  or 
ungenerous  use  of  advantages  over  them ;  even  selfish  absti- 
nence from  defending  them  against  injury,  —  these  are  fit  objects 
of  moral  reprobation,  and,  in  grave  cases,  of  moral  retribution 
and  punishment.  And  not  only  these  acts  but  the  dispositions 
which  lead  to  them  are  properly  immoral,  and  fit  subjects  of 
disapprobation  which  may  arise  to  abhorrence.  Cruelty  of  dis- 
position ;  malice  and  ill  nature ;  that  most  antisocial  and  odious 
of  all  passions,  envy ;  dissimulation  and  insincerity ;  irascibility 
on  insufficient  cause,  and  resentment  disproportioned  to  the 
provocation ;  the  love  of  domineering  over  others  ;  the  desire  to 
engross  more  than  one's  share  of  advantages  (the  7r\eove^ia  of 
the  Greeks) ;  the  pride  which  derives  gratification  from  the 
abasement  of  others ;  the  egotism  which  thinks  self  and  its 
concerns  more  important  than  anything  else,  and  decides  all 
doubtful  questions  in  his  own  favor,  —  these  are  moral  vices, 
and  constitute  a  bad  and  odious  moral  character :  unlike  the  self- 
regarding  faults  previously  mentioned,  which  are  not  properly 
immoralities,  and  to  whatever  pitch  they  may  be  carried,  do  not 
constitute  wickedness.  They  may  be  proofs  of  any  amount  of 
folly,  or  want  of  personal  dignity  and  self-respect ;  but  they  are 
only  a  subject  of  moral  reprobation  when  they  involve  a  breach 
of  duty  to  others,  for  whose  sake  the  individual  is  bound  to  have 
care  for  himself.  What  are  called  duties  to  ourselves  are  not 
socially  obligatory,  unless  circumstances  render  them  at  the 
same  time  duties  to  others.  The  term  "  duty  to  one's  self," 
when  it  means  anything  more  than  prudence,  means  self-respect 
or  self-development ;  and  for  none  of  these  is  any  one  account- 
able to  his  fellow-creatures,  because  for  none  of  them  is  it  for 
the  good  of  mankind  that  he  be  held  accountable  to  them. 

The    distinction  between  the  loss  of  consideration  which  a 
person  may  rightly  incur  by  defect  of  prudence  or  of  personal 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         793 

dignity,  and  the  reprobation  which  is  due  to  him  for  an  offense 
against  the  rights  of  others,  is  not  a  merely  nominal  distinction. 
It  makes  a  vast  difference,  both  in  our  feelings  and  in  our  con- 
duct towards  him,  whether  he  displeases  us  in  things  in  which 
we  think  we  have  a  right  to  control  him  or  in  things  in  which 
we  know  that  we  have  not.  If  he  displeases  us,  we  may  express 
our  distaste,  and  we  may  stand  aloof  from  a  person  as  well  as 
from  a  thing  that  displeases  us ;  but  we  shall  not  therefore  feel 
called  on  to  make  his  life  uncomfortable.  We  shall  reflect  that 
he  already  bears,  or  will  bear,  the  whole  penalty  of  his  error; 
if  he  spoils  his  life  by  mismanagement,  we  shall  not,  for  that 
reason,  desire  to  spoil  it  still  further ;  instead  of  wishing  to 
punish  him,  we  shall  rather  endeavor  to  alleviate  his  punish- 
ment by  showing  him  how  he  may  avoid  or  cure  the  evils  his 
conduct  tends  to  bring  upon  him.  He  may  be  to  us  an  object 
of  pity,  perhaps  of  dislike,  but  not  of  anger  or  resentment ;  we 
shall  not  treat  him  like  an  enemy  of  society :  the  worst  we  shall 
think  ourselves  justified  in  doing  is  leaving  him  to  himself,  if 
we  do  not  interfere  benevolently  by  showing  interest  or  concern 
for  him.  It  is  far  otherwise  if  he  has  infringed  the  rules  neces- 
sary for  the  protection  of  his  fellow-creatures,  individually  or 
collectively.  The  evil  consequences  of  his  acts  do  not  then  fall 
on  himself,  but  on  others  ;  and  society,  as  the  protector  of  all 
its  members,  must  retaliate  on  him ;  must  inflict  pain  on  him 
for  the  express  purpose  of  punishment,  and  must  take  care  that 
it  be  sufficiently  severe.  In  the  one  case,  he  is  an  offender  at 
our  bar,  and  we  are  called  on  not  only  to  sit  in  judgment  on  him 
but,  in  one  shape  or  another,  to  execute  our  own  sentence ;  in 
the  other  case,  it  is  not  our  part  to  inflict  any  suffering  on  him, 
except  what  may  incidentally  follow  from  our  using  the  same 
liberty  in  the  regulation  of  our  own  affairs  which  we  allow  to 
him  in  his. 

The  distinction  here  pointed  out  between  the  part  of  a  per- 
son's life  which  concerns  only  himself  and  that  which  concerns 
others,  many  persons  will  refuse  to  admit.  How  (it  may  be 
asked)  can  any  part  of  the  conduct  of  a  member  of  society  be 
a  matter  of  indifference  to  the  other  members  ?  No  person  is 


794  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

an  entirely  isolated  being  ;  it  is  impossible  for  a  person  to  do  any- 
thing seriously  or  permanently  hurtful  to  himself,  without  mischief 
reaching  at  least  to  his  near  connections,  and  often  far  beyond 
them.  If  he  injures  his  property,  he  does  harm  to  those  who 
directly  or  indirectly  derived  support  from  it,  and  usually  dimin- 
ishes, by  a  greater  or  less  amount,  the  general  resources  of  the 
community.  If  he  deteriorates  his  bodily  or  mental  faculties,  he 
not  only  brings  evil  upon  all  who  depended  on  him  for  any  por- 
tion of  their  happiness,  but  disqualifies  himself  for  rendering  the 
services  which  he  owes  to  his  fellow-creatures  generally  ;  perhaps 
becomes  a  burden  on  their  affection  or  benevolence  ;  and  if  such 
conduct  were  very  frequent,  hardly  any  offense  that  is  committed 
would  detract  more  from  the  general  sum  of  good.  Finally,  if 
by  his  vices  or  follies  a  person  does  no  direct  harm  to  others, 
he  is  nevertheless  (it  may  be  said)  injurious  by  his  example, 
and  ought  to  be  compelled  to  control  himself  for  the  sake  of 
those  whom  the  sight  or  knowledge  of  his  conduct  might  cor- 
rupt or  mislead. 

And  even  (it  will  be  added)  if  the  consequences  of  miscon- 
duct could  be  confined  to  the  vicious  or  thoughtless  individual, 
ought  society  to  abandon  to  their  own  guidance  those  who  are 
manifestly  unfit  for  it  ?  If  protection  against  themselves  is  con- 
fessedly due  to  children  and  persons  under  age,  is  not  society 
equally  bound  to  afford  it  to  persons  of  mature  years  who  are 
'  equally  incapable  of  self-government  ?  If  gambling,  or  drunken- 
ness, or  incontinence,  or  idleness,  or  uncleanliness,  are  as  inju- 
rious to  happiness,  and  as  great  a  hindrance  to  improvement,  as 
many  or  most  of  the  acts  prohibited  by  law,  why  (it  may  be 
asked)  should  not  law,  so  far  as  is  consistent  with  practicability 
and  social  convenience,  endeavor  to  repress  these  also  ?  And 
as  a  supplement  to  the  unavoidable  imperfections  of  law,  ought 
not  opinion  at  least  to  organize  a  powerful  police  against  these 
vices,  and  visit  rigidly  with  social  penalties  those  who  are  known 
to  practice  them  ?  There  is  no  question  here  (it  may  be  said) 
about  restricting  individuality,  or  impeding  the  trial  of  new  and 
original  experiments  in  living.  The  only  things  it  is  sought  to 
prevent  are  things  which  have  been  tried  and  condemned  from 


THE   LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         795 

the  beginning  of  the  world  until  now ;  things  which  experience 
has  shown  not  to  be  useful  or  suitable  to  any  person's  individ- 
uality. There  must  be  some  length  of  time  and  amount  of  expe- 
rience, after  which  a  moral  or  prudential  truth  may  be  regarded 
as  established;  and  it  is  merely  desired  to  prevent  generation 
after  generation  from  falling  over  the  same  precipice  which  has 
been  fatal  to  their  predecessors. 

I  fully  admit  that  the  mischief  which  a  person  does  to  himself 
may  seriously  affect,  both  through  their  sympathies  and  their 
interests,  those  nearly  connected  with  him,  and  in  a  minor  degree, 
society  at  large.  When,  by  conduct  of  this  sort,  a  person  is  led 
to  violate  a  distinct  and  assignable  obligation  to  any  other  per- 
son or  persons,  the  case  is  taken  out  of  the  self -regarding  class, 
and  becomes  amenable  to  moral  disapprobation  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  term.  If,  for  example,  a  man,  through  intemper- 
ance or  extravagance,  becomes  unable  to  pay  his  debts,  or,  hav- 
ing undertaken  the  moral  responsibility  of  a  family,  becomes 
from  the  same  cause  incapable  of  supporting  or  educating  them, 
he  is  deservedly  reprobated,  and  might  be  justly  punished  ;  but 
it  is  for  the  breach  of  duty  to  his  family  or  creditors,  not  for 
the  extravagance.  If  the  resources  which  ought  to  have  been 
devoted  to  them  had  been  diverted  from  them  for  the  most 
prudent  investment,  the  moral  culpability  would  have  been  the 
same.  George  Barnwell  murdered  his  uncle  to  get  money  for 
his  mistress,  but  if  he  had  done  it  to  set  himself  up  in  business 
he  would  equally  have  been  hanged.  Again,  in  the  frequent 
case  of  a  man  who  causes  grief  to  his  family  by  addiction  to  bad 
habits,  he  deserves  reproach  for  his  unkindness  or  ingratitude ; 
but  so  he  may  for  cultivating  habits  not  in  themselves  vicious, 
if  they  are  painful  to  those  with  whom  he  passes  his  life,  or  who 
from  personal  ties  are  dependent  on  him  for  their  comfort.  Who- 
ever fails  in  the  consideration  generally  due  to  the  interests  and 
feelings  of  others,  not  being  compelled  by  some  more  impera- 
tive duty,  or  justified  by  allowable  self-preference,  is  a  subject 
of  moral  disapprobation  for  that  failure,  but  not  for  the  cause 
of  it,  nor  for  the  errors,  merely  personal  to  himself,  which  may 
have  remotely  led  to  it.  In  like  manner,  when  a  person  disables 


796  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

himself,  by  conduct  purely  self-regarding,  from  the  performance 
of  some  definite  duty  incumbent  on  him  to  the  public,  he  is  guilty 
of  a  social  offense.  No  person  ought  to  be  punished  simply  for 
being  drunk ;  but  a  soldier  or  a  policeman  should  be  punished 
for  being  drunk  on  duty.  Whenever,  in  short,  there  is  a  definite 
damage,  or  a  definite  risk  of  damage,  either  to  an  individual  or 
to  the  public,  the  case  is  taken  out  of  the  province  of  liberty, 
and  placed  in  that  of  morality  or  law. 

But  with  regard  to  the  merely  contingent,  or,  as  it  may  be 
called,  constructive  injury  which  a  person  causes  to  society,  by 
conduct  which  neither  violates  any  specific  duty  to  the  public 
nor  occasions  perceptible  hurt  to  any  assignable  individual  except 
himself,  the  inconvenience  is  one  which  society  can  afford  to 
bear,  for  the  sake  of  the  greater  good  of  human  freedom.  If 
grown  persons  are  to  be  punished  for  not  taking  proper  care 
of  themselves,  I  would  rather  it  were  for  their  own  sake  than 
under  pretense  of  preventing  them  from  impairing  their  capacity 
of  rendering  to  society  benefits  which  society  does  not  pretend 
it  has  a  right  to  exact.  But  I  cannot  consent  to  argue  the  point 
as  if  society  had  no  means  of  bringing  its  weaker  members  up 
to  its  ordinary  standard  of  rational  conduct,  except  waiting  till 
they  do  something  irrational,  and  then  punishing  them,  legally 
or  morally,  for  it.  Society  has  had  absolute  power  over  them 
during  all  the  early  portion  of  their  existence  :  it  has  had  the 
whole  period  of  childhood  and  nonage  in  which  to  try  whether 
it  could  make  them  capable  of  rational  conduct  in  life.  The  ex- 
isting generation  is  master  both  of  the  training  and  the  entire 
circumstances  of  the  generation  to  come  ;  it  cannot  indeed  make 
them  perfectly  wise  and  good,  because  it  is  itself  so  lamentably 
deficient  in  goodness  and  wisdom ;  and  its  best  efforts  are  not 
always,  in  individual  cases,  its  most  successful  ones ;  but  it  is 
perfectly  well  able  to  make  the  rising  generation,  as  a  whole,  as 
good  as,  and  a  little  better  than,  itself.  If  society  lets  any  con- 
siderable number  of  its  members  grow  up  mere  children,  inca- 
pable of  being  acted  on  by  rational  consideration  of  distant 
motives,  society  has  itself  to  blame  for  the  consequences.  Armed 
not  only  with  all  the  powers  of  education  but  with  the  ascendency 


THE   LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         797 

which  the  authority  of  a  received  opinion  always  exercises  over 
the  minds  that  are  least  fitted  to  judge  for  themselves ;  and 
aided  by  the  natural  penalties  which  cannot  be  prevented  from 
falling  on  those  who  incur  the  distaste  or  the  contempt  of  those 
who  know  them,  —  let  not  society  pretend  that  it  needs,  besides 
all  this,  the  power  to  issue  commands  and  enforce  obedience  in 
the  personal  concerns  of  individuals,  in  which,  on  all  principles 
of  justice  and  policy,  the  decision  ought  to  rest  with  those  who 
are  to  abide  the  consequences.  Nor  is  there  anything  which 
tends  more  to  discredit  and  frustrate  the  better  means  of  influ- 
encing conduct  than  a  resort  to  the  worse.  If  there  be  among 
those  whom  it  is  attempted  to  coerce  into  prudence  or  tem- 
perance any  of  the  material  of  which  vigorous  and  independent 
characters  are  made,  they  will  infallibly  rebel  against  the  yoke. 
No  such  person  will  ever  feel  that  others  have  a  right  to  control 
him  in  his  concerns,  such  as  they  have  to  prevent  him  from 
injuring  them  in  theirs ;  and  it  easily  comes  to  be  considered  a 
mark  of  spirit  and  courage  to  fly  in  the  face  of  such  usurped 
authority,  and  do  with  ostentation  the  exact  opposite  of  what 
it  enjoins ;  as  in  the  fashion  of  grossness  which  succeeded,  in 
the  time  of  Charles  II,  to  the  fanatical  moral  intolerance  of  the 
Puritans.  With  respect  to  what  is  said  of  the  necessity  of  pro- 
tecting society  from  the  bad  example  set  to  others  by  the  vicious 
or  the  self-indulgent,  it  is  true  that  bad  example  may  have  a 
pernicious  effect,  especially  the  example  of  doing  wrong  to  others 
with  impunity  to  the  wrongdoer.  But  we  are  now  speaking  of 
conduct  which,  while  it  does  no  wrong  to  others,  is  supposed  to 
do  great  harm  to  the  agent  himself ;  and  I  do  not  see  how  those 
who  believe  this  can  think  otherwise  than  that  the  example,  on 
the  whole,  must  be  more  salutary  than  hurtful,  since  if  it  dis- 
plays the  misconduct,  it  displays  also  the  painful  or  degrading 
consequences  which,  if  the  conduct  is  justly  censured,  must  be 
supposed  to  be  in  all  or  most  cases  attendant  on  it. 

But  the  strongest  of  all  the  arguments  against  the  interfer- 
ence of  the  public  with  purely  personal  conduct  is  that  when 
it  does  interfere  the  odds  are  that  it  interferes  wrongly  and  in 
the  wrong  place.  On  questions  of  social  morality,  of  duty  to 


798  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

others,  the  opinion  of  the  public,  that  is  of  an  overruling  ma- 
jority, though  often  wrong,  is  likely  to  be  still  oftener  right ; 
because  on  such  questions  they  are  only  required  to  judge  of 
their  own  interests ;  of  the  manner  in  which  some  mode  of  con- 
duct, if  allowed  to  be  practiced,  would  affect  themselves.  But  the 
opinion  of  a  similar  majority,  imposed  as  a  law  on  the  minority, 
on  questions  of  self -regarding  conduct,  is  quite  as  likely  to  be 
wrong  as  right ;  for  in  these  cases  public  opinion  means,  at  the 
best,  some  people's  opinion  of  what  is  good  or  bad  for  other 
people  ;  while  very  often  it  does  not  even  mean  that ;  the  public, 
with  the  most  perfect  indifference,  passing  over  the  pleasure  or 
convenience  of  those  whose  conduct  they  censure,  and  consider- 
ing only  their  own  preference.  There  are  many  who  consider  as 
an  injury  to  themselves  any  conduct  which  they  have  a  distaste 
for,  and  resent  it  as  an  outrage  to  their  feelings  ;  as  a  religious 
bigot,  when  charged  with  disregarding  the  religious  feelings  of 
others,  has  been  known  to  retort  that  they  disregard  his  feel- 
ings, by  persisting  in  their  abominable  worship  or  creed.  But 
there  is  no  parity  between  the  feeling  of  a  person  for  his  own 
opinion  and  the  feeling  of  another  who  is  offended  at  his  hold- 
ing it,  any  more  than  between  the  desire  of  a  thief  to  take  a 
purse  and  the  desire  of  the  right  owner  to  keep  it.  And  a  per- 
son's taste  is  as  much  his  own  peculiar  concern  as  his  opinion 
or  his  purse.  It  is  easy  for  any  one  to  imagine  an  ideal  public, 
which  leaves  the  freedom  and  choice  of  individuals  in  all  uncer- 
tain matters  undisturbed,  and  only  requires  them  to  abstain  from 
modes  of  conduct  which  universal  experience  has  condemned. 
But  where  has  there  been  seen  a  public  which  set  any  such  limit 
to  its  censorship  ?  or  when  does  the  public  trouble  itself  about 
universal  experience  ?  In  its  interferences  with  personal  conduct 
it  is  seldom  thinking  of  anything  but  the  enormity  of  acting  or 
feeling  differently  from  itself ;  and  this  standard  of  judgment, 
thinly  disguised,  is  held  up  to  mankind  as  a  dictate  of  religion 
and  philosophy,  by  nine  tenths  of  all  moralists  and  speculative 
writers.  These  teach  that  things  are  right  because  they  are 
right ;  because  we  feel  them  to  be  so.  They  tell  us  to  search 
in  our  own  minds  and  hearts  for  laws  of  conduct  binding  on 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         799 

ourselves  and  on  all  others.  What  can  the  poor  public  do  but 
apply  these  instructions,  and  make  their  own  personal  feelings  of 
good  and  evil,  if  they  are  tolerably  unanimous  in  them,  obligatory 
on  all  the  world  ? 

The  evil  here  pointed  out  is  not  one  which  exists  only  in 
theory;  and  it  may  perhaps  be  expected  that  I  should  specify 
the  instances  in  which  the  public  of  this  age  and  country  im- 
properly invests  its  own  preferences  with  the  character  of  moral 
laws.  I  am  not  writing  an  essay  on  the  aberrations  of  existing 
moral  feeling.  That  is  too  weighty  a  subject  to  be  discussed 
parenthetically  and  by  way  of  illustration.  Yet  examples  are 
necessary,  to  show  that  the  principle  I  maintain  is  of  serious 
and  practical  moment,  and  that  I  am  not  endeavoring  to  erect 
a  barrier  against  imaginary  evils.  And  it  is  not  difficult  to  show, 
by  abundant  instances,  that  to  extend  the  bounds  of  what  may 
be  called  moral  police  until  it  encroaches  on  the  most  unques- 
tionably legitimate  liberty  of  the  individual,  is  one  of  the  most 
universal  of  all  human  propensities. 

As  a  first  instance,  consider  the  antipathies  which  men  cherish 
on  no  better  grounds  than  that  persons  whose  religious  opinions 
are  different  from  theirs  do  not  practice  their  religious  observ- 
ances, especially  their  religious  abstinences.  To  cite  a  rather 
trivial  example,  nothing  in  the  creed  or  practice  of  Christians 
does  more  to  envenom  the  hatred  of  Mohammedans  against  them 
than  the  fact  of  their  eating  pork.  There  are  few  acts  which 
Christians  and  Europeans  regard  with  more  unaffected  disgust 
than  Mussulmans  regard  this  particular  mode  of  satisfying  hun- 
ger. It  is,  in  the  first  place,  an  offense  against  their  religion ; 
but  this  circumstance  by  no  means  explains  either  the  degree  or 
the  kind  of  their  repugnance  ;  for  wine  also  is  forbidden  by  their 
religion,  and  to  partake  of  it  is  by  all  Mussulmans  accounted 
wrong  but  not  disgusting.  Their  aversion  to  the  flesh  of  the 
"  unclean  beast "  is,  on  the  contrary,  of  that  peculiar  character, 
resembling  an  instinctive  antipathy,  which  the  idea  of  unclean- 
ness,  when  once  it  thoroughly  sinks  into  the  feelings,  seems 
always  to  excite  even  in  those  whose  personal  habits  are  any- 
thing but  scrupulously  cleanly,  and  of  which  the  sentiment  of 


800  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

religious  impurity,  so  intense  in  the  Hindus,  is  a  remarkable 
example.  Suppose  now  that  in  a  people  of  whom  the  majority 
were  Mussulmans,  that  majority  should  insist  upon  not  permit- 
ting pork  to  be  eaten  within  the  limits  of  the  country.  This 
would  be  nothing  new  in  Mohammedan  countries.1  Would  it  be 
a  legitimate  exercise  of  the  moral  authority  of  public  opinion? 
and  if  not,  why  not  ?  The  practice  is  really  revolting  to  such  a 
public.  They  also  sincerely  think  that  it  is  forbidden  and  ab- 
horred by  the  Deity.  Neither  could  the  prohibition  be  censured 
as  religious  persecution.  It  might  be  religious  in  its  origin,  but 
it  would  not  be  persecution  for  religion,  since  nobody's  religion 
makes  it  a  duty  to  eat  pork.  The  only  tenable  ground  of  con- 
demnation would  be,  that  with  the  personal  tastes  and  self- 
regarding  concerns  of  individuals  the  public  has  no  business  to 
interfere. 

To  come  somewhat  nearer  home  :  the  majority  of  Spaniards 
consider  it  a  gross  impiety,  offensive  in  the  highest  degree  to 
the  Supreme  Being,  to  worship  him  in  any  other  manner  than 
the  Roman  Catholic  ;  and  no  other  public  worship  is  lawful  on 
Spanish  soil.  The  people  of  all  southern  Europe  look  upon  a 
married  clergy  as  not  only  irreligious  but  unchaste,  indecent, 
gross,  disgusting.  What  do  Protestants  think  of  these  perfectly 
sincere  feelings,  and  of  the  attempt  to  enforce  them  against  non- 
Catholics  ?  Yet,  if  mankind  are  justified  in  interfering  with  each 
other's  liberty  in  things  which  do  not  concern  the  interests  of 
others,  on  what  principle  is  it  possible  consistently  to  exclude 
these  cases  ?  or  who  can  blame  people  for  desiring  to  suppress 
what  they  regard  as  a  scandal  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man  ? 
No  stronger  case  can  be  shown  for  prohibiting  anything  which  is 

1  The  case  of  the  Bombay  Parsees  is  a  curious  instance  in  point.  When  this 
industrious  and  enterprising  tribe,  the  descendants  of  the  Persian  fire-worshipers, 
flying  from  their  native  country  before  the  Caliphs,  arrived  in  western  India, 
they  were  admitted  to  toleration  by  the  Hindu  sovereigns  on  condition  of  not 
eating  beef.  When  those  regions  afterwards  fell  under  the  dominion  of  Mohamme- 
dan conquerors,  the  Parsees  obtained  from  them  a  continuance  of  indulgence 
on  condition  of  refraining  from  pork.  What  was  at  first  obedience  to  authority 
became  a  second  nature,  and  the  Parsees  to  this  day  abstain  both  from  beef  and 
pork.  Though  not  required  by  their  religion,  the  double  abstinence  has  had  time 
to  grow  into  a  custom  of  their  tribe ;  and  custom  in  the  East  is  a  religion. 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         801 

regarded  as  a  personal  immorality  than  is  made  out  for  suppress- 
ing these  practices  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  regard  them  as 
impieties ;  and  unless  we  are  willing  to  adopt  the  logic  of  per- 
secutors, and  to  say  that  we  may  persecute  others  because  we 
are  right,  and  that  they  must  not  persecute  us  because  they 
are  wrong,  we  must  beware  of  admitting  a  principle  of  which  we 
should  resent  as  a  gross  injustice  the  application  to  ourselves. 

The  preceding  instances  may  be  objected  to,  although  un- 
reasonably, as  drawn  from  contingencies  impossible  among  us ; 
opinion,  in  this  country,  not  being  likely  to  enforce  abstinence 
from  meats,  or  to  interfere  with  people  for  worshiping,  and  for 
either  marrying  or  not  marrying,  according  to  their  creed  or 
inclination.  The  next  example,  however,  shall  be  taken  from  an 
interference  with  liberty  which  we  have  by  no  means  passed  all 
danger  of.  Wherever  the  Puritans  have  been  sufficiently  power- 
ful, as  in  New  England,  and  in  Great  Britain  at  the  time  of  the 
Commonwealth,  they  have  endeavored,  with  considerable  suc- 
cess, to  put  down  all  public,  and  nearly  all  private,  amusements, 
especially  music,  dancing,  public  games,  or  other  assemblages 
for  purposes  of  diversion,  and  the  theater.  There  are  still  in 
this  country  large  bodies  of  persons  by  whose  notions  of  morality 
and  religion  these  recreations  are  condemned  ;  and  those  per- 
sons belonging  chiefly  to  the  middle  class,  who  are  the  ascend- 
ant power  in  the  present  social  and  political  condition  of  the 
kingdom,  it  is  by  no  means  impossible  that  persons  of  these 
sentiments  may  at  some  time  or  other  command  a  majority  in 
Parliament.  How  will  the  remaining  portion  of  the  community 
like  to  have  the  amusements  that  shall  be  permitted  to  them 
regulated  by  the  religious  and  moral  sentiments  of  the  stricter 
Calvinists  and  Methodists  ?  Would  they  not,  with  considerable 
peremptoriness,  desire  these  intrusively  pious  members  of  society 
to  mind  their  own  business  ?  This  is  precisely  what  should  be 
said  to  every  government  and  every  public  who  have  the  pre- 
tension that  no  person  shall  enjoy  any  pleasure  which  they  think 
wrong.  But  if  the  principle  of  the  pretension  be  admitted,  no  one 
can  reasonably  object  to  its  being  acted  on  in  the  sense  of  the 
majority,  or  other  preponderating  power  in  the  country ;  and 


802  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

all  persons  must  be  ready  to  conform  to  the  idea  of  a  Christian 
commonwealth,  as  understood  by  the  early  settlers  in  New  Eng- 
land, if  a  religious  profession  similar  to  theirs  should  ever  suc- 
ceed in  regaining  its  lost  ground,  as  religions  supposed  to  be 
declining  have  so  often  been  known  to  do. 

To  imagine  another  contingency,  perhaps  more  likely  to  be 
realized  than  the  one  last  mentioned,  there  is  confessedly  a 
strong  tendency  in  the  modern  world  towards  a  democratic  con- 
stitution of  society,  accompanied  or  not  by  popular  political  in- 
stitutions. It  is  affirmed  that  in  the  country  where  this  tendency 
is  most  completely  realized,  where  both  society  and  the  govern- 
ment are  most  democratic,  —  the  United  States,  —  the  feeling  of 
the  majority,  to  whom  any  appearance  of  a  more  showy  or  costly 
style  of  living  than  they  can  hope  to  rival  is  disagreeable,  oper- 
ates as  a  tolerably  effectual  sumptuary  law,  and  that  in  many 
parts  of  the  Union  it  is  really  difficult  for  a  person  possessing 
a  very  large  income  to  find  any  mode  of  spending  it  which  will 
not  incur  popular  disapprobation.  Though  such  statements  as 
these  are  doubtless  much  exaggerated  as  a  representation  of 
existing  facts,  the  state  of  things  they  describe  is  not  only  a 
conceivable  and  possible  but  a  probable  result  of  democratic 
feeling,  combined  with  the  notion  that  the  public  has  a  right  to 
a  veto  on  the  manner  in  which  individuals  shall  spend  their 
incomes.  We  have  only  further  to  suppose  a  considerable  diffu- 
sion of  socialist  opinions,  and  it  may  become  infamous  in  the 
eyes  of  the  majority  to  possess  more  property  than  some  very 
small  amount,  or  any  income  not  earned  by  manual  labor.  Opin- 
ions similar  in  principle  to  these  already  prevail  widely  among 
the  artisan  class,  and  weigh  oppressively  on  those  who  are  amen- 
able to  the  opinion  chiefly  of  that  class,  namely,  its  own  mem- 
bers. It  is  known  that  the  bad  workmen,  who  form  the  majority 
of  the  operatives  in  many  branches  of  industry,  are  decidedly  of 
opinion  that  bad  workmen  ought  to  receive  the  same  wages  as 
good,  and  that  no  one  ought  to  be  allowed,  through  piecework 
or  otherwise,  to  earn  by  superior  skill  or  industry  more  than 
others  can  without  it.  And  they  employ  a  moral  police,  which 
occasionally  becomes  a  physical  one,  to  deter  skillful  workmen 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         803 

from  receiving,  and  employers  from  giving,  a  larger  remuner- 
ation for  a  more  useful  service.  If  the  public  have  any  juris- 
diction over  private  concerns,  I  cannot  see  that  these  people 
are  in  fault,  or  that  any  individual's  particular  public  can  be 
blamed  for  asserting  the  same  authority  over  his  individual  con- 
duct which  the  general  public  asserts  over  people  in  general. 

But  without  dwelling  upon  supposititious  cases,  there  are,  in 
our  own  day,  gross  usurpations  upon  the  liberty  of  private  life 
actually  practiced,  and  still  greater  ones  threatened  with  some 
expectation  of  success,  and  opinions  proposed  which  assert  an 
unlimited  right  in  the  public  not  only  to  prohibit  by  law  every- 
thing which  it  thinks  wrong,  but  in  order  to  get  at  what  it 
thinks  wrong,  to  prohibit  any  number  of  things  which  it  admits 
to  be  innocent. 

Under  the  name  of  preventing  intemperance,  the  people  of 
one  English  colony,  and  of  nearly  half  the  United  States,  have 
been  interdicted  by  law  from  making  any  use  whatever  of  fer- 
mented drinks,  except  for  medical  purposes;  for  prohibition  of 
their  sale  is  in  fact,  as  it  is  intended  to  be,  prohibition  of  their 
use.  And  though  the  impracticability  of  executing  the  law  has 
caused  its  repeal  in  several  of  the  states  which  had  adopted  it, 
including  the  one  from  which  it  derives  its  name,  an  attempt 
has  notwithstanding  been  commenced,  and  is  prosecuted  with 
considerable  zeal  by  many  of  the  professed  philanthropists,  to 
agitate  for  a  similar  law  in  this  country.  The  association,  or 
"Alliance,"  as  it  terms  itself,  which  has  been  formed  for  this 
purpose,  has  acquired  some  notoriety  through  the  publicity  given 
to  a  correspondence  between  its  secretary  and  one  of  the  very 
few  English  public  men  who  hold  that  a  politician's  opinions 
ought  to  be  founded  on  principles.  Lord  Stanley's  share  in  this 
correspondence  is  calculated  to  strengthen  the  hopes  already 
built  on  him,  by  those  who  know  how  rare  such  qualities  as  are 
manifested  in  some  of  his  public  appearances  unhappily  are 
among  those  who  figure  in  political  life.  The  organ  of  the  Alli- 
ance, who  would  "deeply  deplore  the  recognition  of  any  prin- 
ciple which  could  be  wrested  to  justify  bigotry  and  persecution," 
undertakes  to  point  out  the  "  broad  and  impassable  barrier " 


804  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

which  divides  such  principles  from  those  of  the  association. 
"All  matters  relating  to  thought,  opinion,  conscience,  appear 
to  me,"  he  says,  "to  be  without  the  sphere  of  legislation ;  all 
pertaining  to  social  act,  habit,  relation,  subject  only  to  a  dis- 
cretionary power  vested  in  the  state  itself,  and  not  in  the  indi- 
vidual, to  be  within  it."  No  mention  is  made  of  a  third  class, 
different  from  either  of  these,  namely,  acts  and  habits  which  are 
not  social  but  individual,  although  it  is  to  this  class,  surely,  that 
the  act  of  drinking  fermented  liquors  belongs.  Selling  fermented 
liquors,  however,  is  trading,  and  trading  is  a  social  act.  But  the 
infringement  complained  of  is  not  on  the  liberty  of  the  seller, 
but  on  that  of  the  buyer  and  consumer,  since  the  state  might 
just  as  well  forbid  him  to  drink  wine  as  purposely  make  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  obtain  it.  The  secretary,  however,  says,  "  I 
claim,  as  a  citizen,  a  right  to  legislate  whenever  my  social  rights 
are  invaded  by  the  social  act  of  another."  And  now  for  the  defi- 
nition of  these  "  social  rights."  "  If  anything  invades  my  social 
rights,  certainly  the  traffic  in  strong  drink  does.  It  destroys 
my  primary  right  of  security,  by  constantly  creating  and  stimu- 
lating social  disorder.  It  invades  my  right  of  equality,  by  deriv- 
ing a  profit  from  the  creation  of  .a  misery  I  am  taxed  to  support. 
It  impedes  my  right  to  free  moral  and  intellectual  development, 
by  surrounding  my  path  with  dangers,  and  by  weakening  and 
demoralizing  society,  from  which  I  have  a  right  to  claim  mutual 
aid  and  intercourse."  A  theory  of  "  social  rights  "  the  like  of 
which  probably  never  before  found  its  way  into  distinct  lan- 
guage, being  nothing  short  of  this,  —  that  it  is  the  absolute 
social  right  of  every  individual  that  every  other  individual  shall 
act  in  every  respect  exactly  as  he  ought,  that  whosoever  fails 
thereof  in  the  smallest  particular  violates  my  social  right  and 
entitles  me  to  demand  from  the  legislature  the  removal  of  the 
grievance.  So  monstrous  a  principle  is  far  more  dangerous  than 
any  single  interference  with  liberty ;  there  is  no  violation  of 
liberty  which  it  would  not  justify ;  it  acknowledges  no  right  to 
any  freedom  whatever,  except  perhaps  to  that  of  holding 
opinions  in  secret  without  ever  disclosing  them ;  for  the  mo- 
ment an  opinion  which  I  consider  noxious  passes  any  one's 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY        805 

lips,  it  invades  all  the  "  social  rights  "  attributed  to  me  by  the 
Alliance.  The  doctrine  ascribes  to  all  mankind  a  vested  interest 
in  each  other's  moral,  intellectual,  and  even  physical  perfection, 
to  be  defined  by  each  claimant  according  to  his  own  standard. 

Another  important  example  of  illegitimate  interference  with 
the  rightful  liberty  of  the  individual,  not  simply  threatened  but 
long  since  carried  into  triumphant  effect,  is  Sabbatarian  legis- 
lation. Without  doubt,  abstinence  on  one  day  in  the  week,  so 
far  as  the  exigencies  of  life  permit,  from  the  usual  daily  occu- 
pation, though  in  no  respect  religiously  binding  on  any  except 
Jews,  is  a  highly  beneficial  custom.  And  inasmuch  as  this  cus- 
tom cannot  be  observed  without  a  general  consent  to  that  effect 
among  the  industrious  classes,  therefore,  in  so  far  as  some  per- 
sons by  working  may  impose  the  same  necessity  on  others,  it 
may  be  allowable  and  right  that  the  law  should  guarantee  to 
each  the  observance  by  others  of  the  custom  by  suspending  the 
greater  operations  of  industry  on  a  particular  day.  But  this 
justification,  grounded  on  the  direct  interest  which  others  have 
in  each  individual's  observance  of  the  practice,  does  not  apply 
to  the  self-chosen  occupations  in  which  a  person  may  think  fit 
to  employ  his  leisure ;  nor  does  it  hold  good,  in  the  smallest 
degree,  for  legal  restrictions  on  amusements.  It  is  true  that  the 
amusement  of  some  is  the  day's  work  of  others ;  but  the  pleas- 
ure, not  to  say  the  useful  recreation,  of  many  is  worth  the  labor 
of  a  few,  provided  the  occupation  is  freely  chosen  and  can  be 
freely  resigned.  The  operatives  are  perfectly  right  in  thinking 
that  if  all  worked  on  Sunday,  seven  days'  work  would  have  to  be 
given  for  six  days'  wages ;  but  so  long  as  the  great  mass  of 
employments  are  suspended,  the  small  number  who  for  the  en- 
joyment of  others  must  still  work,  obtain  a  proportional  increase 
of  earnings ;  and  they  are  not  obliged  to  follow  those  occupa- 
tions, if  they  prefer  leisure  to  emolument.  If  a  further  remedy  is 
sought,  it  might  be  found  in  the  establishment  by  custom  of 
a  holiday  on  some  other  day  of  the  week  for  those  particular 
classes  of  persons.  The  only  ground,  therefore,  on  which  re- 
strictions on  Sunday  amusements  can  be  defended  must  be  that 
they  are  religiously  wrong,  —  a  motive  of  legislation  which  never 


806  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL   PROGRESS 

can  be  too  earnestly  protested  against.  Deorum  injuriae  Diis 
curae.  It  remains  to  be  proved  that  society  or  any  of  its  offi- 
cers holds  a  commission  from  on  high  to  avenge  any  supposed 
offense  to  Omnipotence  which  is  not  also  a  wrong  to  our  fellow- 
creatures.  The  notion  that  it  is  one  man's  duty  that  another 
should  be  religious  was  the  foundation  of  all  the  religious  per- 
secutions ever  perpetrated,  and  if  admitted  would  fully  justify 
them.  Though  the  feeling  which  breaks  out  in  the  repeated 
attempts  to  stop  railway  traveling  on  Sunday,  in  the  resistance 
to  the  opening  of  museums,  and  the  like,  has  not  the  cruelty  of 
the  old  persecutors,  the  state  of  mind  indicated  by  it  is  funda- 
mentally the  same.  It  is  a  determination  not  to  tolerate  others 
in  doing  what  is  permitted  by  their  religion  because  it  is  not 
permitted  by  the  persecutor's  religion.  It  is  a  belief  that  God 
not  only  abominates  the  act  of  the  misbeliever  but  will  not  hold 
us  guiltless  if  we  leave  him  unmolested. 

I  cannot  refrain  from  adding  to  these  examples  of  the  little 
account  commonly  made  of  human  liberty,  the  language  of 
downright  persecution  which  breaks  out  from  the  press  of  this 
country,  whenever  it  feels  called  on  to  notice  the  remarkable 
phenomenon  of  Mormonism.  Much  might  be  said  on  the  unex- 
pected and  instructive  fact,  that  an  alleged  new  revelation,  and 
a  religion  founded  on  it,  the  product  of  palpable  imposture,  not 
even  supported  by  the  prestige  of  extraordinary  qualities  in  its 
founder,  is  believed  by  hundreds  of  thousands,  and  has  been 
made  the  foundation  of  a  society,  in  the  age  of  newspapers, 
railways,  and  the  electric  telegraph.  What  here  concerns  us  is, 
that  this  religion,  like  other  and  better  religions,  has  its  martyrs  ; 
that  its  prophet  and  founder  was,  for  his  teaching,  put  to  death 
by  a  mob ;  that  others  of  its  adherents  lost  their  lives  by  the 
same  lawless  violence ;  that  they  were  forcibly  expelled,  in  a 
body,  from  the  country  in  which  they  first  grew  up ;  while,  now 
that  they  have  been  chased  into  a  solitary  recess  in  the  midst 
of  a  desert,  many  in  this  country  openly  declare  that  it  would 
be  right  (only  that  it  is  not  convenient)  to  send  an  expedition 
against  them,  and  compel  them  by  force  to  conform  to  the" 
opinions  of  other  people.  The  article  of  the  Mormonite  doctrine, 


THE  LIMITS  TO  AUTHORITY  OF  SOCIETY         807 

which  is  the  chief  provocative  to  the  antipathy  which  thus 
breaks  through  the  ordinary  restraints  of  religious  tolerance,  is 
its  sanction  of  polygamy,  which,  though  permitted  to  Moham- 
medans, and  Hindus,  and  Chinese,  seems  to  excite  unquench- 
able animosity  when  practiced  by  persons  who  speak  English 
and  profess  to  be  a  kind  of  Christians.  No  one  has  a  deeper 
disapprobation  than  I  have  of  this  Mormon  institution,  both  for 
other  reasons  and  because,  far  from  being  in  any  way  counte- 
nanced by  the  principle  of  liberty,  it  is.  a  direct  infraction  of 
that  principle,  being  a  mere  riveting  of  the  chains  of  one  half 
of  the  community,  and  an  emancipation  of  the  other  from  reci- 
procity of  obligation  towards  them.  Still,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  this  relation  is  as  much  voluntary  on  the  part  of  the 
women  concerned  in  it,  and  who  may  be  deemed  the  sufferers 
by  it,  as  is  the  case  with  any  other  form  of  the  marriage  institu- 
tion ;  and  however  surprising  this  fact  may  appear,  it  has  its 
explanation  in  the  common  ideas  and  customs  of  the  world, 
which,  teaching  women  to  think  marriage  the  one  thing  needful, 
makes  it  intelligible  that  many  a  woman  should  prefer  being  one 
of  several  wives  to  not  being  a  wife  at  all.  Other  countries  are 
not  asked  to  recognize  such  unions,  or  release  any  portion  of 
their  inhabitants  from  their  own  laws  on  the  score  of  Mormon- 
ite  opinions.  But  when  the  dissentients  have  conceded  to  the 
hostile  sentiments  of  others,  far  more  than  could  justly  be  de- 
manded ;  when  they  have  left  the  countries  to  which  their  doc- 
trines were  unacceptable,  and  established  themselves  in  a  remote 
corner  of  the  earth,  which  they  have  been  the  first  to  render 
habitable  to  human  beings, — it  is  difficult  to  see  on  what  prin- 
ciples but  those  of  tyranny  they  can  be  prevented  from  living 
there  under  what  laws  they  please,  provided  they  commit  no 
aggression  on  other  nations,  and  allow  perfect  freedom  of  de- 
parture to  those  who  are  dissatisfied  with  their  ways.  A  recent 
writer,  in  some  respects  of  considerable  merit,  proposes  (to  use 
his  own  words)  not  a  crusade,  but  a  civilizade,  against  this  polyg- 
amous community,  to  put  an  end  to  what  seems  to  him  a  retro- 
grade step  in  civilization.  It  also  appears  so  to  me,  but  I  am 
not  aware  that  any  community  has  a  right  to  force  another  to 


8o8  SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 

be  civilized.  So  long  as  the  sufferers  by  the  bad  law  do  not 
invoke  assistance  from  other  communities,  I  cannot  admit  that 
persons  entirely  unconnected  with  them  ought  to  step  in  and 
require  that  a  condition  of  things  with  which  all  who  are  directly 
interested  appear  to  be  satisfied  should  be  put  an  end  to  because 
it  is  a  scandal  to  persons  some  thousands  of  miles  distant,  who 
have  no  part  or  concern  in  it.  Let  them  send  missionaries,  if 
they  please,  to  preach  against  it ;  and  let  them,  by  any  fair 
means  (of  which  silencing  the  teachers  is  not  one),  oppose  the 
progress  of  similar  doctrines  among  their  own  people.  If  civili- 
zation has  got  the  better  of  barbarism  when  barbarism  had  the 
world  to  itself,  it  is  too  much  to  profess  to  be  afraid  lest  bar- 
barism, after  having  been  fairly  got  under,  should  revive  and 
conquer  civilization.  A  civilization  that  can  thus  succurnb  to 
its  vanquished  enemy  must  first  have  become  so  degenerate  that 
neither  its  appointed  priests  and  teachers,  nor  anybody  else,  has 
the  capacity,  or  will  take  the  trouble,  to  stand  up  for  it.  If  this 
be  so,  the  sooner  such  a  civilization  receives  notice  to  quit,  the 
better.  It  can  only  go  on  from  bad  to  worse,  until  destroyed 
and  regenerated  (like  the  Western  Empire)  by  energetic 
barbarians. 

Additional  References : 

Jeremy  Bentham,  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation,  chaps,  xii- 
xvii.  F.  M.  Taylor,  The  Right  of  the  State  to  Be.  W.  W.  Willoughby, 
Social  Justice,  chaps,  v-ix.  D.  G.  Ritchie,  Principles  of  State  Interfer- 
ence. W.  S.  Jevons,  The  State  in  Relation  to  Labor.  Henry  C.  Adams, 
"  The  Relation  of  the  State  to  Industrial  Action,"  in  Publications  of  the 
American  Economic  Association^  Vol.  I,  No.  6.  "  Henry  Champernowne," 
The  Boss. 


INDEX 


Adaptation,  passive  and  active,  9 
Altruism,  593-630 
Aristotle,  750-763 

Bagehot,  Walter,  501-502,  718-749 
Buckle,  Henry  Thomas,  174-270,  419- 


"  Champernowne,  Henry,"  782—787 
Comte,  Auguste,  15-70,  88-115 
Conservatism,  importance  of,  501-502 
Crime    and   punishment,    evolutionary 
function  of,  654-676 

Darwin,  Charles,  276-391 
Degeneration,     causes     of,     708—715; 

symptoms  of,  697-708 
Discussion,  as  a  conservative  force,  737- 

744;  essential  to  progress,  718-724 
Drummond,  Henry,  593-630 

Family  relations,  evolution  of,  593-630 
Fiske,  John,  121-126,  410-418,  478-480 
Foresight,  478-480 

Galton,  Francis,  631-646 
Genius,  the  relativity  of,  498-500 
Geography,  influence  of,  on  social  de- 

velopment, 174-270 
Godkin,  Edward  Lawrence,  716-717 
Government,   best    form   of,   756-761  ; 

influence  of,  562-576 

Hall,  A.  Cleveland,  654-673 
History,    economic    interpretation    of, 
3-7 

Idealization,  power  of,  1  1 
Ideals  of  beauty,  influence  of,  on  phy- 
sical development,  350-391 


809 


Imitation,  503-521 ;  laws  of,  511-521 
Individual,    relation  of,    to    the   state, 

788-808 
Infancy,    prolongation     of,     410-418; 

social  influence  of,  415-418 
Intellectual  development,  influence  of, 

on  social  progress,  419-471 

'Kidd,  Benjamin,  481-497 

Lapouge,  G.  Vacher  de,  647-653 
Literature,  influence  of,  557-562 

Macaulay,  Thomas  Babington,  498-500 

Machiavelli,  Nicholas,  764-781 

Maternal  instinct,  evolution  of,  593- 
630 

Method,  of  observation,  48-52 ;  of  ex- 
periment, 52-54  ;  of  comparison,  54- 
63 ;  of  analysis,  64 

Method  of  sociology,  positive,  15-64 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  788-808 

Monarch,  resemblance  of,  to  the  boss, 
782-787 

Monarchy,  how  it  is  built  up  and  main- 
tained, 764-781 

Morality,  dependence  of,  upon  social 
necessity,  577-592  ;  influence  of,  on 
social  progress,  419-471  ;  sociologi- 
cal view  of,  577-592 

Nature,  aspects    of,    influence    on  the 

intellect,  244-270 
Nordau,  Max,  697-715 

Pain    economy,   transition    from,   to   a 

pleasure  economy,  127-132 
Patten,  Simon  N.,  127-132 
Pearson,  Karl,  392-409 
Peschel,  Oscar,  271-275 


8io 


SOCIOLOGY  AND  SOCIAL  PROGRESS 


Population,  quality  of,  392-409, 631-646 
Positive  method  of  sociology,  15-64 
Prevision  of  social  phenomena,  22 
Progress,  definition  of,  7-9 ;  stages  of, 
90-115 

Religion,  definition  of,  486;  function 
of,  in  social  progress,  481—497;  influ- 
ence of,  545-557  ;  zone  of  the  found- 
ers of,  271-275 

Ripley,  William  Z.,  676-696 

Robinson,  Edward  Van  Dyke,  133-173 

Selection,  natural  and  social,  647-654 ; 
sexual,  in  relation  to  man,  276-391 ; 
social,  641-646,  647-654 ;  urban,  676- 
696 

Smith,  Adam,  472-477 

Social  dynamics,  theory  of,  88-1 16 

Social  evolution,  121-126;  influence  of 
religion  on,  481-497 

Social  phenomena  modifiable,  42—47 
^JSocial  progress,  defined,  1 16-1 20 ;  direc- 
tion of,  88-173;  factors  of,  174- 
804 ;  physical  and  biological  factors 
of,  174-418;  psychical  factors  of, 
419-521 ;  social  and  economic  factors 


of,  522-7 1 5 ;  political  and  legal  factors 
of,  716-804 

Social  science,  spirit  of,  23-24 
Sociation,  79-87 

-Sociology,  as  a  study  of  social  progress, 
88-173 ;  relation  of,  to  other  sciences, 
65—70;  relation  of,  to  biology,  65-68 ; 
relation  of,  to  physics,  69-70 ;  relation 
of,  to  the  special  social  sciences,  71- 
87 ;  relation  of,  to  political  science, 
72-75;  relation  of,  to  political  econ- 
omy, 75-78 

Spencer,  Herbert,  577-592 
State  interference,  limits  of,  788-808 
State,  relation  of,  to  individual,  788-808 
Statical  and  dynamical  sociology,  dis- 
tinction between,  32-33 
Stuckenberg,  J.  H.  W.,  71-87 
Stupidity,  virtues  of,  501-502 
Surplus  energy  of  society,  12-13 
Sympathy,  472~477 

Talk,  influence  of,  716-717 
Tarde,  Gabriel,  503-521 

War  and  economics,  133-173 
Ward,  Lester  F.,  116-120,  674-675 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


1  0  1931 


APR  1 7  1935 
JUN  6      1935 


UL  10  t935*> 


3  1933 
1  6  1933 

• 
F£B  5      19341 


NOV     6  193« 

JM  2  9  J935 
apR  4     193, 

'  Form  L-9-10i«-2,-31 


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